Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7496568.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      M/M, F/M, Other
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Kishibe_Rohan/Kujo_Jotaro, Higashikata_Josuke/Nijimura_Okuyasu, Hirose
      Koichi/Yamagishi_Yukako, Higashikata_Tomoko/Joseph_Joestar, Higashikata
      Josuke/Kishibe_Rohan, Hirose_Koichi/Kishibe_Rohan, Kishibe_Rohan/Sugimoto
      Reimi
  Character:
      Kishibe_Rohan, Kujo_Jotaro, Joseph_Joestar, Hirose_Koichi, Nijimura
      Okuyasu, Higashikata_Josuke, Yamagishi_Yukako, Higashikata_Tomoko, Kira
      Yoshikage
  Additional Tags:
      Nervousness, Holding_Hands, 30_Day_OTP_Challenge, Accidental_Cuddling,
      Public_Display_of_Affection, Blow_Jobs, Sharing_Clothes, Cosplay, Gift
      Giving, Embarrassment, Skype, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Mutual
      Masturbation, Master/Pet, Cat_Ears, Cheating, Making_Out, Genderbending,
      Murder, Crossdressing, Wall_Sex, Bathroom_Sex, Semi-Public_Sex, Fluff,
      Mornings, Recreational_Drug_Use, Marijuana, Dancing, Baking, Sloppy
      Makeouts, One_Night_Stands, Riding, Scratching, Feelings_of_Inadequacy,
      Jealousy, pocky_day, Marriage, Piercings, Skydiving, Sad, Hot, Sweat,
      Kitchen_Sex, Counter_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-15 Completed: 2017-01-10 Chapters: 30/30 Words: 32667
****** 30 Day Pairing Challenge - Diamond is Unbreakable ******
by LoverlyMadhatter
Summary
     This challenge is taken from here, and will be used with multiple
     pairings throughout the DIU universe.
     Mostly focused on Jotahan, Josuyasu, with a little bit of
     KoichiYukako, and maybe some surprises in there somewhere.
     =====================================================================
     Ratings and tags will change as I update the challenge. Don't worry,
     tho, there will definitely be porn in there.
Notes
     you may be asking... "mady, why are you doing another 30 day
     challenge, you haven't finished the other two?"
     well, i'm also asking myself that and uh i'm just gonna keep going
     with it.
     here u go kids.
***** Holding Hands (Jotaro/Rohan) *****
                In the days that followed Yoshikage Kira’s defeat, there was an
apparent wave of calm that washed over the entire city of Morioh. Every stand
user was at ease, knowing that the looming threat of a serial killer was gone;
on the other hand, the normal residents of Morioh also seemed to be strangely
relaxed. Everybody’s lives were back to normal again… except Kishibe Rohan.
                “Augh!” He frustratedly pulls the shirt over his head, tossing
it toward the corner of his room. It joins the ranks of at least a dozen other
outfits he had tried in the last twenty five minutes, all deemed not worthy
enough for their get together.
                It was just a small get together before Jotaro and Joseph
headed back to the US. It was just the three of them and the three high
schoolers – an outfit should have been the least of his problems, Josuke the
most. Yet, here Rohan was, standing in front of a mirror and looking over his
shoulder at the way his pants just outlined his ass.
                “No!” he shouts, stripping them off and tossing them. They made
his ass look too big, they didn’t rest well on his hips, they were too tight –
none of it actually mattered, except that he wanted Jotaro to like them.
                He finally settles on an outfit – not good enough, but it would
have to do – before he makes his way to the café.
                In the past few weeks, Rohan found himself becoming enamored
with Josuke’s nephew. At first, he thought that Jotaro would be just as bad as
Josuke, and had no desire to even meet him. But when they met, Rohan was sure
it was love at first sight. Josuke’s relative wasn’t anythinglike him – calm
and collected, calculating in his every word and movement. He was huge – taller
than any man Rohan had met – and had shoulders so wide that Rohan was sure his
jacket was custom made. And, Rohan found himself thinking embarrassedly, he was
handsome.
                He couldn’t just come onto Jotaro; he was too intellectual for
that. Besides, Rohan had no experience in coming on to, well, anyone. No,
Jotaro deserved better than that. The problem, though, is that Rohan still
hadn’t figured out how to tell him, and now he was leaving.
                “Rohan,” Jotaro grunts when he pulls out the chair at the café.
Rohan can’t stop the little skip his heart does, tries not to gasp Jotaro’s
name back in greeting. Something about the way he said his name, coupled with
the little nod of his head, made Rohan’s heart leap into his throat.
                He’s not wearing his usual jacket, and it makes Rohan’s fingers
twitch. Black fabric is stretched tightly over his muscles, outlining every
bump and curve of his chest and abdomen, leaving so little to the imagination
that Rohan catches his mind wandering. He forces half of a glass of cold water
down his throat to force himself to focus on something other than Jotaro’s
body. Unfortunately it just lets him focus on the faint smell of saltwater
coming from Jotaro, and then his mind is a muddled mess anyway.
                Jotaro picks the seat next to Rohan. If he weren’t so elated,
he would think it strange, that Jotaro shows up when no one else is here, and
picks the seat next to Rohan, out of five total open seats. But he’s so elated
that it’s not a thought that even crosses his mind.
                It’s just the two of them for a few minutes, and instead of
compliments or pick up lines there’s… absolutely nothing. They sit in awkward
silence, Rohan’s hands fisted in his pants (wrinklingthem, damnit Rohan!) while
they wait for the others to show up. There isn’t even normal conversation, the
very air itself pushing Rohan into a slouch.
                “Sorry we’re late!”
                Rohan feels his jaw set and his teeth clench at the mere voice
of Josuke Higashikata. Of course he would show up, just as Rohan was about to
make a move on Jotaro.
                The other two boys follow right behind him, and Joseph isn’t
far behind. Soon, they’re all seated and chatting, Jotaro striking up a
conversation with Josuke about… something, and Rohan has lost his chance.
                A few minutes pass before anyone addresses him, and it’s not
who he wants. “Rohan, are you alright, man? You seem a little tense.” Josuke’s
voice, permeating his thoughts and embarrassinghim in front of Jotaro.
                “Of course I’m alright, Josuke,” he replies flippantly. He does
notice that his shoulders are tense and his jaw is starting to hurt, though, so
he consciously schools himself into a calm. Unballing his fists, he forces
relaxation into his muscles, which makes them tense even further.
                “Are you planning on coming off of hiatus, Rohan?” asks Koichi,
striking up pleasant conversation. Rohan should be thankful for the
distraction, but he finds himself even more frustrated when he looks up at
Koichi. From beside Koichi, he can see Josuke and Okuyasu chattering like
idiots while Jotaro carries on a conversation with Joseph. Their bodies are so
close together, and if Rohan’s reading their body language correctly, they’re
holding hands underneath the table. He feels his lip curl, his nostrils flare.
They deserve each other.
                “Of course I am,” Rohan snaps. Koichi’s eyebrow shoots up to
his hairline, but he doesn’t seem hurt, just confused. Then Koichi follows
Rohan’s gaze when it flickers to the other two boys, but Rohan is too
preoccupied with sneering at Josuke and Okuyasu to notice the realization that
dawns on Koichi’s face. Koichi drops their conversation immediately, favoring
watching Rohan’s various expressions instead and trying not to laugh.
                “Yare yare,” grumbles Jotaro, unprompted, and Rohan is caught
off guard. Josuke and Okuyasu stop giving each other googly eyes and look over
at where Jotaro is scowling at Joseph.
                The exchange only takes seconds, but they all catch Joseph’s
smile and shrug, before the waitress comes to take their order. After that,
it’s like it never happened. Rohan feels himself truly relax for the first time
in the past half an hour, not forgetting, but pushing Jotaro to the back of his
mind. There’s nothing he can do while they’re at lunch, so it will have to wait
until after.
                Or so he thinks.
                Before their food come, during a lull in conversation,
something strange happens. He doesn’t notice it until they’ve already made
contact, and it makes him jump. He gets strange looks from Okuyasu and Josuke,
while Koichi and Joseph just seem to have permanent smiles plastered on their
faces. Rohan notices all of this before he figures out what’s actually
happening, and when he does he can’t stop the blood from rushing to his face.
                Jotaro’s hand has snaked its way over to his thigh, engulfing
his own bijou appendage. Jotaro’s palm is a little sweaty, but Rohan doesn’t
find himself disgusted. The redness is trickling down his neck and into the
tips of his ears, and something bursts in his chest.
                Jotaro is holding his hand.
                Jotaro Kujo, object of his affections, is holding his hand.
                It’s clumsy, and Rohan would rather thread their fingers
together, but he’s too afraid to move, just in case Jotaro thinks he is
rebuffing him.
                Rohan and Jotaro are both stiff, unmoving creatures, and it
doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the group. Josuke opens his mouth to say
something, but Koichi elbows him in the side. When Okuyasu opens his mouth,
Josuke repeats the movement, and soon the entire table is on the same page.
                The two men eat stiffly, with only one hand, while everyone
else at the table tries to hide their snickers. Rohan knows it’s giving them
away, awkwardly eating with a fork in one hand, but he can’t find it in himself
to care. Something about how Jotaro’s hand swallows Rohan’s feels so right,
like a blanket wrapped around his shoulders in winter.
                He absolutely vibrates when Jotaro asks him back to his hotel
room, giving himself props for choosing his most easily removable outfit.
***** Cuddling (Josuke/Okuyasu and Koichi/Yukako) *****
Chapter Summary
     Josuke and Okuyasu are spying on Koichi and Yukako while they're on a
     date.
                “I can’t believe they’re doing it in public.”
                The restaurant isn’t crowded – in fact, it’s nearly empty. ‘In
public’ was a bit of a stretch.
                “I mean, look at them; I would never do that.”
                At this, Josuke scoffs. “Bullshit.”
                Okuyasu turns to him, eyebrows knitted and mouth twisted. “No
way, man, I would never do that in public. Just look at them.”
                Josuke hums in his throat, incredulous and sassy. He does what
Okuyasu says, and just can’t see it.
                Koichi and Yukako sit in a far booth at one of the local Morioh
restaurants, both on one side of the table, cuddling. Koichi is too small to
put an arm around her shoulder, so he’s just leaning into her ribcage with his
whole upper body, while she wraps an arm around his shoulders. They’re a little
too close for someone to think they’re just friends, but Josuke assumes that’s
the point. And, Josuke will agree, it’s a little too close to be inappropriate
in public, but he can’t agree with Okuyasu’s complaints. For one, they’re
hidden well enough from prying eyes that Josuke and Okuyasu have to sit up in a
tree to see them. For two…
                “If you had someone to do it with in public, you bet your ass
you would do it.”
                Okuyasu thinks for a minute, then turns to Josuke with huge
eyes. “Why you gotta be like that, man?”
                “Just telling the truth. Now shut up.”
                The last time this happened, Josuke and Okuyasu had stumbled
upon them on accident. This time, there was no such excuse. They knewKoichi was
going on a date with Yukako, knew where they were going to be, and knew exactly
what time they were going to be there. The two of them hadn’t planned on spying
together, though – that happened by chance. When Josuke scrambled up the tree
for a better vantage point, he was sure Okuyasu almost pissed his pants.
                When they had climbed the tree, Josuke realized there was
definitely not enough room for both of them, but he wouldn’t back down.
                “I was here first, Josuke,” grunted Okuyasu, scooching over
anyway and letting Josuke lift himself onto the branch.
                “Yeah, well, I’m quieter and I’m not going to cry,” spat back
Josuke.
                After only a few minutes of bickering, they settled into the
tree together, leaning so close that Josuke’s back was in Okuyasu’s chest.
                To be honest, he almost preferred it this way.
                “Josuke, look!” Okuyasu is pointing to their friends in the
restaurant booth, and it takes a moment for Josuke to stop looking at him. But
once he does, he immediately sees what Okuyasu is talking about.
                “Oh shit, man, he’s gonna do it! He’s gonna kiss her!”
                Sure enough, just after Koichi takes a quick glance around the
restaurant to make sure no one’s looking, he leans up with his small body as
quickly as he can, and plants a kiss on Yukako’s cheek.
                Josuke’s stomach begins to churn, remorse twisting in his gut
for spying on his best friend. They really shouldn’t be doing this.
                “Hey, man, I don’t feel so right about this,” he mutters, but
Okuyasu shushes him.
                “No way, man, keep watching.”
                Yukako’s face turns a darker shade of purple than his school
uniform, and then, to Okuyasu, Josuke, andKoichi’s surprise, she just starts
laughing. They can tell from the tree that it’s not just a simple giggle, but
full blown belly-aching laughter. Okuyasu’s already balled his hands into
fists, remembering the last time something weird happened with Yukako, but
Josuke grabs his sleeve.
                “Wait a minute.”
                They keep watching, Josuke’s back pressed into Okuyasu’s
vibrating chest. Yukako keeps laughing, drawing the attention of most of the
staff in the restaurant. It makes Koichi’s face fill with blood and dejection.
Josuke hurts for his friend, too, just as much as Okuyasu is, but he thinks
that might not be all. As much as he thinks she’s insane, Yukako really does
care about Koichi, and she’s calmed down a lot since their first encounter with
Love Deluxe. Josuke, going on a gut instinct, thinks it’s best to wait.
                And he’s right. After a few moments, Yukako’s laughter dies
down and she catches her breath. Koichi, by this time, has scooted far away
from her, almost to the end of the booth. When she sees him finally, there’s a
look on her face that Josuke can’t quite puzzle out from this far away. He’s
trying to hold Okuyasu back, keeping him from leaping out of the tree, while
Yukako moves toward Koichi and leans over him.
                Instead of attacking, or leaving, or laughing more, or doing
whatever Josuke and Okuyasu thinks she’s going to do, she leans toward him. In
sight of the entire staff of the restaurant, she plants a kiss on his lips, and
they watch Koichi’s body go stiff.
                Yukako holds him there for a few moments, what must have felt
like an eternity for Koichi, and then pulls away. They can’t see her face, but
they can see Koichi’s: eyes glazed, cheeks pink, and mouth hanging open.
                Josuke can’t help it: he just starts laughing. All of the
tension held in his chest for his best friend’s safety dissipates, and he can’t
help but love the blissed out look on Koichi’s face. His shoulders shake,
calming Okuyasu’s body where he leans against him.
                “I think Koichi’s ok,” Josuke says, wiping a tear from his eye.
Okuyasu grumbles, and Josuke can feel it through his jacket on his back.
                “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
                They sit there for just a few more silent moments, watching
Koichi and Yukako come back together, leaning against one another like no one
is watching them. Josuke thinks about his position with Okuyasu to his back,
and realizes that they would be far more comfortable if they weren’t up in a
tree. Besides, what were they still doing here?
                “Do you wanna go play video games?” asks Josuke, turning his
head to look at the boy behind him.
                “Why? Do youwanna play video games?”
                Josuke rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s why I asked, Oku.”
                Okuyasu thinks about it, like he already doesn’t know the
answer. Josuke decides to startle him out of thoughts, and cranes his neck
around to plant a kiss on his cheek. He doesn’t see Okuyasu’s face fill up with
blood because Josuke is already scrambling down the tree, prepared to make it
back home in record time. After a few dumbstruck moments, he’s leaping out of
the tree, and giving Josuke a run for his money back to his house.
***** Gaming/Watching a Movie (Josuke/Okuyasu) EXPLICIT *****
Chapter Summary
     Okuyasu is trying to beat Josuke's time trials, but Josuke has other
     ideas.
Chapter Notes
     0-100 FUCKOS. i like how in one chapter update i went from a G rating
     straight to E.
     it's kinda short because i didn't really have a lot of inspiration
     for this one, but i hope y'all like it anyway :) I just couldn't pass
     up on Josuke being a fucking shit head.
                “F-fuck, Josuke. I can’t beat th-this while you’re doing th-
that.”
                Okuyasu’s eyes are focused on the screen, straining and dry,
while he attempts to nail 1st place, but every other nerve ending in his body
is focused elsewhere. ‘Elsewhere’ being where Josuke’s lips are wrapped around
his cock.
                He pulls off of him with a loud pop.
                “What,” Josuke says, mock sympathy dripping from his every
word. “You can’t beat Peach’s time trials? I thought she was just a girl.”
                Okuyasu’s face contorts into a grimace, but flutters between
bliss when Josuke dives back down.
                “Y-you’re cheating – ah!”
                Josuke’s doing his best work, hollowing his cheeks and twisting
as he comes to the top. It makes Okuyasu’s thighs shake where Josuke’s hands
hold them, and as much as Josuke wants (needs) to touch himself, this is more
important. Okuyasu isn’t the best at Mario Kart, but he’s been practicing, and
if he wanted to, he could definitely beat Josuke’s time trials – or so he said.
Josuke wasn’t going to let that happen.
                “Is it cheating if you like it this much?”
                Okuyasu’s face is a deep shade of red, and it’s moving toward
his tank top, splotching his ears, neck, and chest.
                “Y-yes,” he grunts out. Josuke can see his jaw clench, every
muscle shifting when he locks his teeth together.
                Josuke flicks his tongue just underneath the head of Okuyasu’s
cock, then shifts himself to get a better look at the screen. Fuck. The little
ghost of Peach is far enough behind him that Josuke is going to have to go for
desperate measures.
                “Okuyasu,” he breathes, making sure all of the air goes to cool
the saliva on his skin. He watches Okuyasu’s whole body shiver, and bites down
on his own bottom lip to keep from gasping.
                “Wh-what?” Okuyasu’s stuttering, nervous and knowing that
Josuke’s going to pull some trump card out of his pocket. Josuke gives him a
shit eating grin, hoping he can see it out of the corner of his eye – he’s not
wrong.
                “I love you.” And then, as Okuyasu is rounding a corner, Josuke
envelopes his cock in tight heat, taking him all the way to the back of his
throat. Tears prickle in the corners of his eyes while he lets his muscles
relax, fluttering around Okuyasu’s cock. He forces his eyes closed and focuses
on breathing through his nose, the heady scent of Okuyasu mixed with the gentle
scent of his fabric softener burning straight through Josuke. He’s harder than
he wants to admit, and can’t stop his hips from rolling against the floor to
give him something, anything.
                “Fuck!” Okuyasu shouts, and he tosses the controller to the
side. He can’t stop himself from fisting his hands into Josuke’s perfectly
styled hair, fucking his mouth until he’s shouting. Josuke looks up at him as
he comes, the feeling of victory outweighing the gross feeling of cum as it
shoots down his throat. He pulls off with a cough and wipes his nose and eyes,
pumping his fist into the air.
                “Fuck yeah!” he shouts, but the glory is only short-lived.
Okuyasu is pushing him to the floor within moments, driving a knee in between
his thighs, and kissing him hard enough to bruise.
                “You fucking asshole,” breathes Okuyasu, biting down on his
bottom lip. It pulls a whimper from Josuke’s throat, embarrassingly high.
Okuyasu is pinning his hands to the floor, leaving bite marks all down his
neck. “I’m just going to beat it later.”
                Josuke can’t stop the grin from spreading on his face. Sure,
Okuyasu was going to beat his time trial eventually – he was way better at
Mario Kart than Josuke would ever admit. But, honestly, when Okuyasu tears off
his pants and roughly presses two fingers into him, Josuke’s pretty sure he’s
victorious in the end.
***** On a Date (Jotaro/Rohan) *****
Chapter Summary
     Rohan takes Jotaro to the Louvre for a date, because Jotaro's never
     been there.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                The Louvre was so much larger than Jotaro had anticipated. It
definitely lookedbig from the outside, but it couldn’t convey just how much
there actually was. Floors and floors of paintings, sculptures, historical
artifacts, and installations, many more of which were in the basement, which
Jotaro hadn’t realized made up theentirecourtyard above.
                “We’re not going to make it through all of the exhibits today,”
states Rohan at the courtesy desk, turning to talk to Jotaro. He’s been
chatting with the secretary in fluent French for the past few minutes, and
finally turns around to hand Jotaro two tickets. “So we’ll have to come back
another day. These are good for the next week or so.”
                Jotaro takes the two tickets off his hands and shoves one in
his pocket. How he got the tickets, Jotaro doesn’t know. He didn’t knew Rohan
spoke French, either.
                “I was part of a display at the Louvre a few years ago,” he
explains, seemingly reading Jotaro’s mind. As much as Rohan has that ability,
Jotaro was sure he hadn’t used it. But it wasn’t unsettling that Rohan knew
what he was thinking – it actually made their relationship more comfortable.
Jotaro was not a man of many words, which did not help his marriage, but Rohan
didn’t mind. He didn’t need many words to figure things out.
                “You were… part of a display?” Jotaro asks, mouth catching up
to his mind. Rohan nods.
                “Yes, they did an exhibit on mangaka, and asked if I would
produce a short volume for it. It’s on sale in the book shop.” Jotaro wouldn’t
admit it, but he did want a copy. He had read Rohan’s manga before – read it
before he even met Rohan – and would love to add it to his collection. Perhaps
he would wait until Rohan was out of sight for that, though. They did have a
few more days in Paris – he had time.
                                      **
                Rohan is a never ending stream of encyclopedia-like knowledge.
He’s been to the Louvre a few times before, and it definitely shows.
                “Medieval artists weren’t concerned with proportions and
realism,” Rohan explains, rolling his eyes just enough that Jotaro noticed.
“But were more concerned with the production of art of the Virgin as a heavenly
figure. It could be because they were starving and didn’t have the time to
devote to it, or because they thought Roman art was base and lewd.”
                He’s been going on like this for the past twenty five minutes
or so. They had entered the museum in silence, all of the wonder lost on Rohan,
and all of the wonder bottled up inside Jotaro where he could let it out later.
He studied each of the paintings and sculptures they passed, reading as much as
he could of the English translations of the curator’s notes. He knew that there
wasn’t time enough to read every single one, but each one on its own was so
fascinating, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking. Eventually, Rohan
started telling him things about the pieces, keeping him from even glancing at
the plaques.
                Jotaro notices while he talks that his skin is red, blotchy
heat crawling up his neck and into his face, creeping up to the tops of his
ears. There is a small group of Japanese tourists who have started following
them from a safe distance, eavesdropping on what he has to say about the
pieces, but Jotaro is sure talking to a group like that wouldn’t make Rohan
nervous, so why is he stumbling over his words?
                “Uh, and so the church… chopped off all of the penises on all
of the sculptures, which… which is why you don’t, uh, see any.” Jotaro turns to
him, speaking for what he realizes is the first time in the past half an hour.
                “Why haven’t they put them back on?”
                He’s surprised when Rohan relaxes immediately, his whole body
loosening like Jotaro has pulled a knot free from taut string. While Rohan’s
talking, this is the first time he doesn’t really listen, because the blood is
roaring in his ears.
                They’ve been dating for a year now, so he figured Rohan would
understand certain things about him, would be completely comfortable on a date
in a place where he knows so much and Jotaro knows so little. Sometimes in
aquariums he would catch Rohan squirming, because for the first time someone
knew more than he did. Here, though, Jotaro hadn’t expected that. But, even
with as much as Rohan knew about Jotaro, he was still nervous – Jotaro hadn’t
responded for thirty minutes, and he could see the thoughts racing through
Rohan’s mind. Was he listening? Did he care? Did he want him to stop talking?
Was he drawing too much attention to their twosome by giving these little
lectures?
                Perhaps Jotaro would have to give him a little more feedback
than just silently nodding, which seemed an awful lot like he wasn’t listening.
                The little Japanese tour group keeps following them, breaking
off from their hired tour guide in favor of Rohan. They’re still off to the
side, but have gotten bold in incorporating themselves, even finding the guts
to ask Rohan questions themselves. Rohan let out small huffs of exasperation,
but his body language was proper and relaxed, and Jotaro knew he enjoyed
talking about art like this.
                The tour isn’t guided, and Rohan is just taking a loop around
the museum that he hasn’t taken before; which is why, when they get to a huge
staircase, he stops talking completely. When Jotaro turns his head, he sees
why.
                In front of them is a grand staircase, marble steps carved and
glittering in the sunlight from the windows above. It’s widest at its base,
closing in with stone pillars as the stairs move upward. The entire staircase
is lit with sun roofs, the sun in columns upon the staircase, like physical
manifestations. At the top of the staircase, bathed in the same yellow light,
is a winged sculpture without a head or arms, huge and beautiful nonetheless.
Even as far away as they are, Jotaro can see the details in the clothing, and
the way it lays on the body of the statue like it’s real fabric; he can see the
power in her stance, the confidence it must have filled its comrades with, the
fear it must have struck into its enemies. It looks beautiful in this light,
greeting them at the top of the staircase, but the real beauty is the man
beside him.
                Rohan’s face is lit up in a way that Jotaro has never seen it:
his eyes are sparkling, the columns of sunlight bouncing and reflecting off of
them so that they glitter. His mouth is open wide, his breathing has slowed
down. Jotaro has never seen a look of awe and wonderment so stunning. If
Rohan’s exact figure could be captured in this moment, it would belong in this
art museum.
                He doesn’t want to disturb the work of art in front of him, but
at the same time, he can’t stop himself from walking toward him. That open
mouth, that sheer look of wonderment – he can’t keep his hands off of him.
Jotaro wants to share it, wants to know what Rohan feels, and he can’t get it
by just watching him. So, in full view of their small Japanese tour group, he
slides a hand onto Rohan’s cheek and leans his body down to press their lips
together.
                Jotaro tastes all of the wonderment that pours out of Rohan’s
body and into his. It’s like static electricity dancing across his tongue and
through his veins, sparking every nerve ending. There isn’t a hint of the
metallic tang that’s normally there, no bark or bite. It’s just pure reverence
and love when he tightens his lips to kiss Jotaro back, and Jotaro feels fire
burn him from the inside out.
                When they finally part, Jotaro can’t help but let out a quiet
chuckle. Their small tour group has turned around to look at whatever stone
pillar they were nearby, necks pink in embarrassment. Rohan’s blood flow
catches up to his mortification, but it’s not enough to stop him from kissing
Jotaro again.
                “What was that about?” Rohan asks quietly, breaking free of
their second kiss.
                Jotaro tilts his head in the direction of the Winged Victory, a
piece he knows of but knows nothing about. “I want to know more about this
piece.”
Chapter End Notes
     Ok. 3 things about this chapter.
     1) I've been to the Louvre. It's incredible. If you ever get a chance
     to go to Paris, please make it your first priority to go to the
     Louvre. There will never be anything in my life that has impacted me
     like that has.
     2) There actually was an exhibit at the Louvre a little while back
     that featured comic book artists and mangaka, and Araki was one of
     the featured artists. He wrote Rohan au Louvre for it, and it's
     actually pretty good. It's one of Rohan's spinoffs, and in English
     it's just Rohan at the Louvre, and I highly recommend reading it for
     anyone who wants insight into Rohan's past. Though there are some
     weird canon things... that's where the discrepancy over whether he
     was a natural born stand user or an arrow created stand user comes
     from.
     3) If you *do* go to the Louvre, try your very best to see the Winged
     Victory in this way. I accidentally came across it, because I wasn't
     really looking for it? But there are like 3 ways to get into that
     hallway: 2 come from the sides of the sculpture, the other has you
     enter up a staircase that's described in the way I've described it in
     the fic. If you can figure it out, see it that way first. It's made
     the Winged Victory my favorite piece, and experiencing it for the
     first time in any other way is just lackluster.
     I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I liked writing
     it! :)
***** Kissing (Josuke/Okuyasu) NON-EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT *****
Chapter Summary
     Kissing Josuke is like falling asleep.
Chapter Notes
     this is super short, but i wanted to play with style a little bit.
     i hope you like it!
                Okuyasu would never tell Josuke this, but kissing him is like
falling asleep. Not in the way it would sound coming out of his mouth, but in
the way that everything about Josuke relaxes him – Okuyasu can’t explain it in
words, which is why Josuke will never hear it.
                It starts with Josuke’s lips. Okuyasu is sure they’re the
softest lips in the universe, and he could spend hours just touching them
without any other stimulus. When he runs the pad of his thumb across them,
they’re smooth and soft, and he always comes away with just a little leftover
chap stick. When he presses his thumb into the center of Josuke’s bottom lip,
it’s downy, like pressing his head down onto a new pillow after ten years of
sleeping on the ground. And they’re so pliant. There’s no resistance when
they’re like this – Josuke in Okuyasu’s laps, legs resting on his hips, half
clothed and breathing in each other’s air – so when Okuyasu presses on his lip
to open his mouth, Josuke does so with no force, flicking his tongue against
his thumb. And when Okuyasu finally presses their lips together, he can taste
the menthol that’s soaked into Josuke’s lips from years of use, and it makes
his eyes flutter closed.
                What comes next is his skin. Okuyasu kisses it all over, even
though he touches it all the time; there’s something different about how it
feels on his lips. His skin is silky smooth, like million yen sheets, always
cool to his fervent touch. He presses butterfly kisses to the corners of
Josuke’s mouth, down his chin still baby-soft, his neck. Even the hardness of
his Adam’s apple when it bobs in his throat is smooth and slow. Okuyasu cranes
his neck further to press kisses to his collarbone and his chest, and when he
can’t reach any further, he begins his ascent back to Josuke’s lips. They’re
like a cool drink of water in the middle of the night when he reaches them, and
even when Josuke moans into his mouth, it sends cool shivers down his spine.
                “Okuyasu,” he breathes, the sweetest lullaby in his ears. He’s
heard it echo off of Josuke’s walls hundreds of times, and each time it only
gets better, bouncing around in his head and shutting off all of his senses.
                Josuke’s tight heat around him is almost enough to put him to
sleep. It forces the heat in his belly to supercoil, but still the rest of his
body is loose. His daydreams are only Josuke, riding on his lap and pulling
Okuyasu’s bottom lip into his teeth, arms draped over his shoulders and clasped
at the back of his neck. The small of Josuke’s back is where Okuyasu’s hands
land, kneading a familiar rhythm, rocking him to sleep.
                When Josuke cries his name he clamps down around him, forcing
Okuyasu over the edge. He tastes his own name on his tongue, then tastes
Josuke’s tongue, sweeter and more decadent than any strawberry ice cream could
ever hope to match. Okuyasu is teetering on the edge of a cliff, somewhere
between dreams and reality, and when the white explodes behind his eyes he’s
gone. It’s slow, and then it happens all at once, like the drop off into
dreams.
                Afterward is just as perfect, because Okuyasu is still kissing
Josuke, still tasting his menthol chapstick on his tongue, still bruising
Josuke’s lips until they’re bright red against his skin. Josuke is protesting,
pushing his hands weakly into Okuyasu’s bare chest, but he’s laughing, so
Okuyasu doesn’t stop. He lets Josuke wake him back up, lets him talk him back
into the real world, lets him stop kissing him because his lips are too
sensitive and are starting to tingle.
                Okuyasu can’t explain it in words, but kissing Josuke is almost
like falling asleep.
***** Wearing Each Other's Clothes (Jotaro/Rohan) *****
Chapter Summary
     Rohan wears Jotaro's huge sweater during a chill morning after.
Chapter Notes
     wink wonk
                It’s remarkable how comfortable it is to wear something that’s
five sizes too big. It doesn’t look particularly good on him, barely hanging on
his shoulders and dropping well below his thighs. The sweater makes his legs
look too thin, swallows his arms and hands, and makes his neck look like a
pencil. Yet, he feels more at home in it than he has in any of his Gucci.
                Jotaro hasn’t woken up yet, opting to sleep in; after weeks of
staying up into the wee hours of the morning to do research, Rohan couldn’t
blame him. He knew, however, that he wouldn’t sleep in too late, so he brewed a
double pot of coffee.
                The sweater hangs low enough that he can tuck it under his rear
when he sits down in the hard kitchen chair. It’s a chunky knit, softer and
warmer than anything Rohan’s ever worn, and definitely uglier. Somehow, Jotaro
makes it look good underneath that white jacket, but as comfortable as it is,
Rohan wouldn’t be caught dead in it.
                “G’morning,” Jotaro mutters. Behind Rohan, he leans over and
presses a kiss to the side of his neck. He’s already showered, but the faint
scent of saltwater never leaves him. It mixes with the scent of Himalayan
coffee, and Jotaro’s cologne in his sweater, and Rohan feels his heart beat
faster. He forces down his excitement and places a small smile on his face
instead.
                “Good morning,” he replies, simple and short, and takes another
drink of his coffee. “How did you sleep?”
                Jotaro grunts in reply, and Rohan quirks a smile. If he slept
anything like Rohan, it was so thoroughly fucked out that he’s surprised he
even woke up.
                The smell of bacon starts to drift through the kitchen, and
Rohan turns to him to ask if he’ll put on a few eggs. That’s when he notices
it.
                Jotaro is wearing an outfit that he’s never worn before. He
must have left his jacket hanging on the back of Rohan’s door, because it’s not
slung over his shoulders like it usually is. Instead, he’s wearing his white
pants, hung low on his hips, and a new crop top that hugs every curve of his
muscles. It’s a familiar fabric to Rohan, definitely something he would wear,
and it looks just like one hanging in his closet… Gucci, spring collection,
knit fabric, black and gold.
                “Jotaro?” he asks slowly, sipping at the last dregs of his
coffee. His boyfriend turns around, and it lets Rohan get the full frontal view
of just how goodit looks on him. It presses into every nook of his pectorals
and the abdominals below it, leaving little to the imagination. Coupled with
his tousled, unstyled hair, Rohan has to force the lump in his throat down.
                “What?” Jotaro asks after Rohan doesn’t speak for a few
moments. Right. He was asking him a question.
                “Is that my shirt?”
                Rohan’s never seen color in Jotaro’s cheeks outside of the
bedroom before. The only time blood pools in his face like this is when Rohan’s
taking him to the back of his throat and happens to look up at him, catching
him off guard. Here, in the kitchen, it seems out of place, but so, socute.
                “Uh,” he stutters, and forgets the bacon sizzling in the pan
behind him. "I thought that it was mine."
                “Do you wear Gucci?”
                The pink in Jotaro’s face gets deeper, and he finally looks
down to see it on himself. His body is definitely stretching the fabric, but it
hangs loosely enough on Rohan that it seems to fit Jotaro. Jotaro has left
enough of his clothes at Rohan’s house that it makes sense, but still…
                “I didn’t think so,” says Rohan with a wink. He shrugs, and
turns back around to his coffee and the morning paper. “Of course, it isfrom
the spring collection, and I will never be able to purchase another one. So, if
you could take it off and put it back in my room, I could find you something
else to wear.”
                Jotaro grunts again, his only reply, and Rohan can hear him
shifting to take it off in the kitchen. As unnecessary as it was to take it off
right that minute, Rohan finds himself licking his lips at the thought of
Jotaro shirtless.
                Then Rohan hears his breath stop.
                “Rohan?” he asks. It’s meeker than Rohan has ever heard from
Jotaro, and is sure he will ever hear again.
                “What?” He turns around in his chair, and his face blanks in
mortification.
                “It’s stuck.”
***** Cosplaying (Koichi/Yukako) *****
Chapter Summary
     90's cosplay B)
                “Yukako?” Koichi asks quietly against the bathroom door. She’s
been in there for at least 45 minutes, and it’s really coming down to the wire.
He doesn’t care about the convention as much, but he doeshave to use the
bathroom.
                “Just one more second!”
                Koichi sighs and steps back in front of the full length mirror.
                He looks so strange in a tuxedo, especially with the tails in
his back, the top hat, and the goofy mask. Yukako has assured him, time and
time again, that he looks fine and just like Tuxedo Mask, but he still isn’t
comfortable. He’s never been to an anime convention, never even been exposed to
one, and isn’t sure what to expect now that he’s here. Koichi grimaces and
adjusts his bowtie.
                “Ok, I’m done!” Yukako sings, opening the door to the bathroom.
Out comes a cloud of powder, setting spray, and perfume, but Yukako is like a
shining beacon when the cloud dissipates. “How do I look?”
                Koichi would like to answer that question – he really would –
but he’s busy trying to pick his jaw up from the floor. If he was being honest
with himself, he was expecting some campy getup and makeup, like the ones he
had seen in pictures, but Yukako is none of that. She looks like she was born
to wear that costume: she sewed it herself, and its fabric hugs her body in
just the right way, with every single stitch in the right place. Her wig is
flawlessly styled, and her makeup makes her look just enough like an anime
character, but retains just enough of her human features. Yukako as Sailor Moon
is breathtaking, and Koichi isn’t sure where his voice is.
                Her face falls. “Is it that bad?”
                “No no no!” he exclaims, waving his hands in front of his face.
“Sorry! You just look… wow!”
                Yukako’s face does a complete turnaround and lifts back up,
brightening her entire countenance. In the next moment, it’s like she really
sees Koichi for the first time, and gasps deep in her chest.
                “And you!” she exclaims, wrapping him in her arms. She smells
like strawberry body spray, which is somehow exactly Usagi and exactly Yukako
at the same time. Her breasts press against his head and he nearly melts. “You
are the cutest Tuxedo Mask I’ve ever seen.” Her lips press against the side of
his head, and he’s blushing furiously.
                “The cutest?” He tries to hide his disappointment, but can tell
that it seeps through his voice and drips off of every word.
                Yukako straightens back up and puts her hands on her hips,
thinking for a moment. “Not the cutest,” she says with finality. “But the most
handsome, well-done Tuxedo Mask at this convention.”
                He shrugs, but he can’t hide the pink in his cheeks.
                “Really?”
                “No doubt.”
***** Shopping (Jotaro/Rohan) *****
Chapter Summary
     Rohan and Jotaro are both spoiled rich kids. They go shopping in
     Paris.
Chapter Notes
     holy fuck mom this one is like 1.7k words.
     here u go jotahan shippers
     u stay cool out there.
                Money has never been an object for Rohan. Luckily, Rohan finds
out, Jotaro is in the same boat. It’s not that he’s classist or anything – he’s
not – but it’s hard to share expensive tastes when one person can’t have them.
This way, Jotaro at least has an understanding of Paris fashion, and it makes
their trip a lot more exciting.
                It was a mutual decision to visit the City of Lights. Sure, it
was Paris Fashion Week, which was mostly for Rohan, but he convinced Jotaro to
come along.
                In their downtime, they would go on trips through the city,
performing an activity that they both loved: shopping. Outwardly, Rohan loved
shopping, and everyone knew it. He didn’t wear high class fashion for nothing –
it took work to find these clothes, and work to find these accessories. Jotaro,
on the other hand, was far more reserved about his hobby, and tended to keep it
to himself. However, to the trained eye (Rohan’s), it was obvious that Jotaro
had expensive indulgences; his pocketwatch, his obvious designer outfits, his
custom made solid gold buttons.
                When Rohan suggested they go shopping, Jotaro knew it wasn’t
just a suggestion out of the blue.
                “A comic book store, Jotaro?” whines Rohan, trying his best
imitation of a kindergartner.
                “Sure,” he replies, already making his way into the store.
Rohan is still huffing outside, and Jotaro can hear the slap of skin on cloth
as he crosses his arms.
                “We’re in Paris, Jotaro.” Rohan’s voice is huffy. “You can buy
comic books anywhere.”
                “Maybe,” he suggest, still facing into the bookstore. The smell
of paper and ink washes over him, a familiar and comfortable smell. “We can
just split up for a little bit.”
                Rohan huffs, blowing a hair out of his face, but it’s a sound
that lets Jotaro know he’s won.
                “Fine. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”
                Jotaro feigns disinterest, waving his hand behind him.
                “See you then.”
                Rohan huffs, and Jotaro can picture the blood crawling up his
neck. But, Rohan won’t make a scene, so he turns on his heel and disappears
down the brick road.
                Finally.
                Jotaro had been trying to get rid of Rohan for the past 45
minutes, but there was nothing the mangaka was opposed to. He had it planned
since this morning – it wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with Rohan; he
loved spending time with Rohan. Rohan was the ideal boyfriend: he wasn’t
clingy, especially in public, and had no time for mushy bullshit. Jotaro was a
man of very few words, but around Rohan there was no need to explain himself at
all – somehow, the mangaka just understood, and would talk to Jotaro as if he
were reading his mind. What looked to other people like an unhealthy couple,
where one talked on and on while the other was silent, was actually the most
comfortable arrangement Jotaro had ever been a part of. And, while that was
great, it was like Rohan knew just the amount of physical affection he desired
– a held hand here, a peck there – and there was never any discomfort. No,
Rohan was wonderful. His reasoning for wanting to split off was different.
                As soon as Rohan was out of sight down the street, Jotaro
turned on his heel and made a beeline for the jewelry store that had passed
earlier. It wasn’t a chain jewelry store, but one that was family-owned,
renowned in the jewelry world for its beautifully crafted diamonds and gold.
Jotaro had seen the store yesterday, seen the pair of earrings gleaming in the
window, and knew he had to buy them for Rohan. He hadn’t gotten a gift for
Rohan since they started dating, and figured that, even if Rohan didn’t care
about gifts, he wouldn’t turn it down.
                ‘They’ were a pair of black pearl earrings on white gold posts.
They weren’t anything particularly fancy, and it wasn’t their price that
mattered, because Rohan could buy anything in that store if he wanted. No,
Jotaro wanted to buy them for his boyfriend for another reason. The black pearl
was a finicky gem, crafted only by the most prolific grafters. It was simple in
its beauty and incredibly rare in its design. And, in Jotaro’s opinion, one of
the only gems worthy enough of Rohan’s grace. He was similar to a black pearl
in many ways, and they would suit each and every one of his outfits, so Jotaro
knew the instant he saw them that he would make them Rohan’s.
                “Are you trying to impress her?” asks the jeweler once the box
is in Jotaro’s hands. Jotaro looks up at him, finding his face hotter than he
expected.
                “No,” he mutters, and once he realizes he says it in Japanese,
the tips of his ears also go red. “No,” he corrects, this time in English. To
his surprise, the jeweler’s eyes crinkle up in a kind-hearted laugh.
                “Ah,” she breathes, putting her thin hand on top of his.
“You’re in love.”
                Jotaro’s whole body freezes up, and he quickly and quietly
thanks her, bows, and leaves the store. He hears her chuckle as he exits, and
suddenly the street outside is much warmer than it was before.
                                      **
                An hour later, after dipping in and out of stores that wouldn’t
have any interest to Rohan, they meet back outside the comic book store. To
Jotaro’s surprise, there aren’t dozens of bags lining Rohan’s arms like the
thought there would be, and instead, he holds something behind his back, just
far enough so Jotaro can’t see it or tell what it is.
                “Ok, Jotaro, I have a confession to make,” Rohan explains after
they kiss, one quick peck, before making their way to a nearby café. “I didn’t
actually want to split up today. I lied so that I could… well, buy you this.”
                Jotaro’s heart beats faster when Rohan relinquishes the item
behind his back, and presses it into Jotaro’s hand. It’s beautifully wrapped,
and Jotaro can tell by its uncanny perfection that Rohan wrapped it himself.
The lines are crisper than Jotaro thought possible, and if wrapping were an
art, Rohan would have it under his thumb, just like everything else. Instead of
warming his heart, though, it makes it drop into his gut – Rohan put so much
effort into this gift, whatever it was, and Jotaro was just going to present
him with the plain white leather box from the grocery store.
                Rohan starts talking again, running his words a little too
quickly out of his mouth. “I saw it yesterday in the window of that bookstore.
I knew that you were running out of space in your latest journal, and your pens
are in atrocious condition, so I thought maybe it could be something useful
while still being…” Jotaro stops listening to him after a moment, just running
his fingers along the edges of a beautiful leather bound journal. His name is
stamped into the front of it in kanji, and though he doesn’t know much about
paper products, when he slides his fingers along the edge of it, he can tell
the paper is of the highest quality. It comes bound with a fountain pen, one
large enough to fit comfortably in Jotaro’s hand. It doesn’t seem like much,
but Jotaro knows just by looking at it the amount of thought and care that went
into it, and instantly his heart is beating in his throat.
                “Me, too,” Jotaro interrupts suddenly, his voice coming out
louder than intended. He feels the back of his neck heat up, blood roaring in
his ears when the pulls the box out of his pocket. Rohan stutters to a stop,
then his eyes go wide at the box in his hand.
                “You… bought me something?” he asks, so quiet that Jotaro
almost doesn’t hear it. He rubs the back of his neck, then shoves the box into
Rohan’s hands.
                “Yeah. I thought… you’d like it?” Jotaro doesn’t have nearly
the explanatory power that Rohan has, but he hopes that Rohan will understand –
or at least likeit.
                But when Rohan opens the box, his face makes Jotaro’s gut
churn.
                “I-if you don’t like it,” Jotaro mutters. He’s pulling his hat
down over his eyes, and he can’t believe he got it this wrong. “I can… I can
take them back. It’s not… it’s not, uh…”
                “It’s not that,” Rohan says, but Jotaro can’t imagine what else
it is. The corners of Rohan’s face are twisted down into something a little
deeper than his perpetual frown, and his eyes don’t glitter like they do when
Jotaro kisses him. He was hoping for something – anything – but Rohan looks so
unhappy that it’s bordering on discomfort.
                “No, really,” Rohan expands, closing the box. He looks up at
Jotaro, and there’s something different in his eyes that his face isn’t
portraying. “I uh… I can’t wear these.”
                Jotaro quirks an eyebrow.
                “I uh… don’t have my ears pierced.”
                Jotaro’s other eyebrow raises up toward his hairline, and now
he’s knitted them together. He bends over and points to Rohan’s earrings, very
clearly dangling off of his ears. What does he mean he doesn’t –
                Oh.
                Rohan reaches up after looking around him, eyes shifty. He does
it so quickly that the people around him probably don’t notice, but Jotaro sees
exactly what happens. The earring takes one hand to remove, and it just slides
off. Rohan opens his palm to him, showing him the clip on the back.
                And in a moment, Jotaro’s breath leaves him in a gruff laugh.
                “So you… do like them?” he asks after he pulls himself back
together. It only takes a moment, but it’s enough time that Rohan’s face has
gone beet red.
                “Yes,” he replies through gritted teeth. Rohan shoves them in
his pocket, then inconspicuously slips the clip on back into its place.
                “Y’know,” Jotaro says, a rare smile plastered on his face. “It
really doesn’t hurt.” He makes a show of twisting one of his earrings in his
ear.
                Rohan’s still blushing furiously when Jotaro slips an arm
around his shoulders.
                “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
***** Skyping/Webcamming (Jotaro/Rohan) EXPLICIT *****
Chapter Summary
     Jotaro is back in Florida, and Rohan is still in Morioh. They've been
     separated for a few months now, and masturbating just isn't cutting
     it anymore.
Chapter Notes
     WOW HOLY FUCK THERE'S A LOT OF JOTAHAN IN THIS 30 DAY CHALLENGE
     sorry not sorry
                Rohan is thankful every day that he lives in a huge house all
by himself. If he lived with anyone else, or in an apartment with paper-thin
walls, he would never get a chance to do something like this.
                “Fuck, Jotaro,” he grunts through his teeth. The only response
he gets is a wordless groan, but that’s fine with Rohan. The speakers on his
laptop are high enough quality that he hears every little sound and grunt
Jotaro makes while he bites down on his bottom lip.
                “Rohan…” Jotaro whispers, and Rohan feels a shiver wrack his
entire body. It shudders through his chest, then his arms, then down to the
very tips of his toes – he doesn’t get to hear Jotaro sound like this very
often, and it’s so relieving to hear again.
                Skype is full screen on his laptop, and the webcam Rohan bought
for Jotaro is high def enough that he can see every curve and feature on
Jotaro’s face. There’s beads of sweat dripping down his temples, pooling at the
dip in the base of his neck and glimmering like the sweetest glaze. Rohan can’t
help but lick his lips.
                “You look – ah – so good like this, Jotaro,” he breathes.
Instantly he regrets it, afraid he’s said too much, but the look on Jotaro’s
face doesn’t change. It’s… difficult to get Jotaro to let loose like this:
masturbating on camera with Rohan while he sits in his Florida apartment. It’s
hard enough to get him to have phone sex, but on camera? It was nigh
impossible. Yet they had been separated for a little over three months, and it
had begun to affect both of them. Imagining the sound of Jotaro’s husky
baritone wasn’t enough anymore, and if Rohan’s array of toys wasn’t doing
anything for him, then the matching set for Jotaro sure as hell wasn’t doing
anything, either. So, with much pleading and poking and a small amount of
begging, Jotaro agreed to have Skype sex with him.
                “Only my face,” Jotaro had grunted, but it was more than enough
for Rohan. It was Jotaro’s face that really got Rohan off, anyway.
                He pulls and twists at the top of his cock, embarrassed and
enthralled by the sickening squelch it makes. Jotaro must be just as
interested, because Rohan catches the hitch in his breath. He promised Jotaro
he wouldn’t stare, but he can’t help it; his eyes are glued to his computer
screen, watching every little twitch, every drop of sweat, every clench of his
jaw.
                Jotaro looks beautiful like this, with his eyes squeezed shut
and his plump bottom lip tucked into his teeth. Rohan can tell he’s on the very
edge of his control, nearing the point where, were they together, he would
twist his hand into Rohan’s hair and fuck him until he was babbling. Instead,
Rohan gets to watch him ride out the pleasure of his own hand while the pink
spreads on his cheeks – whether from embarrassment or pleasure, he doesn’t
know, but he hopes it’s embarrassment.
                Rohan promised he wouldn’t stare, but he can’t control himself.
Jotaro begins to shake, his whole body shivering with the pleasure concentrated
in his groin, and it’s drawing Rohan in. Even without being there, he feels the
heat emanating from Jotaro’s skin, feels where Jotaro tightly grips his
shoulder. He feels his eyes begin to water from lack of blinking, but he can’t
tear them away from the screen. The skin under Jotaro’s teeth is turning white,
and his little grunts are turning into open mouthed moans. Rohan isn’t drooling
– would never – but something wet drops onto where his hand is fisting his own
cock. It doesn’t draw his eyes away, though, not from the beautiful sight that
is Jotaro.
                It’s not strange, he tells himself, because Jotaro has his eyes
closed, though he can’t help but feel the tight anticipation in his stomach,
hoping Jotaro doesn’t look at him. But then, after moments of only their
breathing, Jotaro’s eyes flutter open. Rohan knows that he looks like a deer
caught in headlights – his eyes are wide open like his mouth, and there are
tears dripping over his bottom lashes from staring too hard and too long. His
whole body shakes with fear and embarrassment, fearing Jotaro’s disappointment
and anger.
                But they never come.
                “Agh!” Jotaro, instead of taking his hand off of his cock,
shutting down his computer, and walking away, comes. His whole body tenses –
the veins running through his arms pulse, and one thick artery in his neck
beats as fast as his heart. Rohan can’t stop from licking his lips again,
working himself quickly to the finish while Jotaro begins to wipe his own cum
off his face.
Rohan forgot how good Jotaro looked with ropes of cum splattered on his face,
and if he hit the print screen button before Jotaro finishes cleaning it, he
never had to know.
***** Animal Ears (Koichi/Yukako) EXPLICIT *****
Chapter Summary
     Koichi comes home after a cold day, and Yukako is nowhere in sight.
Chapter Notes
     I... I never thought I would do this to my precious children.
     I didn't even use the word cock. I just... couldn't do it.
     well, none of you asked for this, but here's porn of Koichi and
     Yukako
                The apartment is warm when he opens the door, a respite amidst
a frozen tundra. It’s January, and Koichi realized far too late that maybe he
didn’t wear enough layers that morning. Either way, the train and walk home
isn’t too bad, and now that he’s finally here, and it doesn’t matter.
                “I’m home!” he calls, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. The
warmth spreads through his body, pushing blood back into his fingers.
                “Yukako?”
                She doesn’t answer, but after a few moments of standing still,
he hears a drawer shut, and knows that she’s in their bedroom. Normally she’s
at the door with a kiss for him, but today must be different – though he would
never tell her, it’s kind of a relief.
                He drapes his jacket across the back of the chair, talking into
the air of the apartment, knowing that she can hear him. He tells her about his
day, about his silly mistake this morning of only going out with his wool
jacket, about classes and Josuke and Okuyasu. Koichi makes himself a sandwich,
then moves back to the bedroom. She hasn’t responded to anything he’s said,
which isn’t that strange, but perhaps it’s good to check on her. After all, she
could be sick, or sleeping, or…
                Sitting in the center of their bed in her school uniform, a
pair of black cat ears perched upon her head.
                “Yu-yukako?” he stutters, gripping his sandwich tightly. His
fingers pierce through the bread, but he doesn’t realize how tightly his hand
is clenched until he feels lettuce. “What… what are you doing?”
                Koichi swallows hard as Yukako makes her way across the bed
toward him. She moves remarkably like a cat, crawling on her hands and knees
with the barest of smiles on her face. Something twists in Koichi’s gut at the
liquid way she crawls, but he forces it down.
                “Yukako?” Her name doesn’t elicit the reaction Koichi’s
expecting – though what he’s expecting he really isn’t sure. Instead, she hums
approvingly deep in her throat, sounding remarkably like a meow. Koichi
swallows, and is surprised by how loud it is in the silence of their bedroom.
                “Yukako, stop it!” he finally exclaims, finding his voice
somewhere beneath the lump in his throat. Her eyes aren’t glazed over, so
there’s no fear of some stand user or some other supernatural force, but Koichi
still doesn’t feel right. His gut twists, and he can’t help the blood rushing
to his cheeks in embarrassment.
                Instead of stopping, Yukako finally makes it across the bed to
him. Koichi is frozen in place, unsure of what to do or what to say, still
gripping the sandwich tightly in his hand. Yukako’s lips curl into a smile when
she hears him swallow, then looks up at him from beneath her thick lashes.
                Without a sound and without taking her eyes off of him, Yukako
reaches down to Koichi’s waistband, undoing the buttons of his pants without so
much as glancing at them. His heart beats in his ears, blood roaring through
his body, and he’s still not sure what to do. It’s not like she hasn’t done
this before – the sight of Yukako on her knees in front of him is familiar –
but something about those cat ears has stopped him in his tracks.
                “Yu… yukako…” he whispers, voice more hoarse than he’s
expecting. The moment he’s free, her mouth is on him. He feels shivers wrack
his entire body like the cold from outside, but coupled by a heat rushing
through his blood that could burn through his skin. She’s working him quick and
hard, pressing little kisses and sucks to every place that drives Koichi crazy.
It’s like she’s studied him, pinpointing exactly what he likes in exactly the
way he likes it.
                The sandwich falls to the floor before Koichi realizes what
he’s doing, and in a moment his fists are in her hair, wrapping it around his
knuckles. She whines down in her throat, and the vibrations run straight into
Koichi’s core. In moments, he’s spilling into her throat with a cry, and she’s
still looking up at him with those doe eyes, violet and shining underneath her
lashes.
                For a moment Koichi is gone, eyes glazed and mouth open – he
doesn’t hear, doesn’t feel, doesn’t see. But, when he comes to, words are
spilling out of Yukako’s mouth at a rate Koichi has to actively catch up with.
                “I’m so sorry, Koichi.” She’s apologizing profusely, and the
confidence etching every feature a moment ago is gone. Yukako is nervous, eyes
avoiding contact with Koichi’s, looking anywhere but where he hangs out of his
pants in front of her. “I didn’t mean to… I mean… I’ve just always wanted to do
it… and I know it’s kind of weird I just… I’m so sorry-“
                Whatever confidence comes over Koichi, he could never
replicate. But, it’s there, and it lets him lean down to capture her lips in
his own. He kisses her long and hard, tasting himself on her, then keeps her
face a hair’s breadth away from his.
                “If I remember correctly,” he breathes, pressing another kiss
to her mouth. “Cats can’t speak.”
***** Kigurumis (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Summary
     Kigurumis.
                “Where… did you get these?”
                Josuke is standing in front of Okuyasu with the widest grin on
his face, and Okuyasu isn’t quite sure he knows what he’s looking at. Josuke is
wearing a set of footie pajamas, looking just as happy (and cute) as he does in
his grade school pictures. The footie pajamas are white, and when he pulls the
the hood over his head, Okuyasu can see they’ve got ears, a bow, and a cute set
of eyes and a nose. Ok… better question.
                “Whatare these?”
                Josuke grins and spreads his arms, spinning around to give
Okyasu the full view, the one that shows him the little tail in the back.
                “It’s a kigurumi!” he exclaims, like Okuyasu is supposed to
know what that is. “My mom bought them for us.”
                Okuyasu is pretty sure his face looks ridiculous right now. He
can feel the air drying his tongue where his mouth is hanging open, observing
the spectacle that is his boyfriend. Josuke’s arms fall and he begins to squirm
with Okuyasu’s eyes on him. His cheeks turn pink, but Okuyasu doesn’t notice,
only keeps studying the young man.
                “If… if you don’t like them,” mutters Josuke, crossing his
arms. “She can send yours back… but I like them.”
                Okuyasu still doesn’t respond, still focused so hard on the
pajamas that it’s making Josuke uncomfortable. He pops out his hip to stand
more comfortably, and looks up and away from Okuyasu’s face.
                “Okuyasu, what?” Josuke finally exclaims. The room is growing
stuffy around him and god damnit if Okuyasu doesn’t talk to him he’s going to
leave the room.
                “Hold on.”
                So, Josuke pouts.
                When Okuyasu finally makes the exclamation he’s been searching
for, it makes Josuke jump a foot off the ground.
                “Hello Kitty!” he shouts, standing up with his finger in the
air.
                After the initial shock, Josuke is… confused. “Wait,” he says,
slowly. “Did you… just figure that out?”
                Okuyasu scoffs. “Well… yeah. I knew it was a cat, but I didn’t
figure out it was Hello Kitty until just now.”
                Josuke’s laugh bubbles out of his throat, and now it’s
Okuyasu’s turn to be embarrassed. His cheeks flush when Josuke hands him the
package that contains his own kigurumi. He pulls it out and holds it in front
of him, but his face betrays him.
                “You don’t like it?” asks Josuke quietly. “Like I said… my mom
can return it.”
                It’s not that Okuyasu doesn’t like it, but even as cute as the
boar tusks are on the hood, it’s not what he wants.
                “If it’s not too much trouble…” he mutters, looking up at
Josuke through his lashes, cheeks pink. “I want a Hello Kitty one, too.”
***** Making Out (Joseph/Tomoko) *****
Chapter Summary
     How the tryst that resulted in Josuke started.
Chapter Notes
     surprise! Joseph and Tomoko! very short but... here u go
     I've been on vacation, so I haven't uploaded for a day or so. It'll
     probably continue for a while. Sorry kids!
     Hope you enjoy :)
                Joseph’s mind is completely free of thoughts, except for one,
wiggling in the back of his mind: I shouldn’t be doing this. But her skin is so
soft and her lips are so sweet… he can’t bring himself to stop.
                “Joseph,” she whispers against his mouth, and the thought is
pushed further to the back of his mind. He has a wife, a child, both of whom he
loves dearly, but… Tomoko is here now.
                “Tomoko,” he grunts, rumbling in his chest and through her
mouth. He can feel her smile through the kiss, and lick his lip with a
mischievous little giggle.
                It wasn’t meant to go this far. He was in the city for some
real estate work – the little town of Morioh was rapidly rising in living
expenses, becoming one of the most western places to live in Japan, and Joestar
Real Estate was getting its hands on it. It was a business trip, so he was
alone, and had been trying out various cafés and restaurants in the area for
each meal. There was one café near the university, very cute and very small.
                The waitress sparked his interest immediately. Unlike
waitresses in the US and the rest of Japan, this waitress didn’t seem to take…
well… anyone’s shit. He had heard her curse more times than once, refusing
extreme substitutions, but what really caught his attention was when she
attacked a customer. The man was shallow, Joseph could tell immediately, so he
kept an eye on him. As soon as she turned away, he reached out and pinched her
bottom, and before Joseph could even stand to call him out, the waitress was
already taking care of it. He watched in awe as she turned around and slammed
the tray on his head. She screeched something that Joseph couldn’t quite catch,
but by the end of the transaction, the man was passed out on the table and the
tray in her hand was bent almost in half.
                “And what are you laughing at?” she spits, and Joseph finds his
face filling with blood when she makes eye contact with him.
                “Nothing,” he says, still laughing, unable to stem the flow.
She looks so angry, but the pink on her face is so cute against her skin, and
he can’t stop chuckling. “You just have an impeccable arm for a young Japanese
woman.”
                She huffs at the half-compliment, then turns away, heading back
into the café. When she came back out, she beamed straight for his table, and
instead of a slap he got a phone number on a napkin, and the view of her
stalking away.
                He wasn’t going to call her – he had a family, a wife and child
that he loved dearly – yet here she was, in his hotel room, lips on his and
hands all over his chest.
                Tomoko rivals the burn of the whiskey down his throat, spitfire
burning a trail where her lips move down his neck, his chest. She lays him back
on the bed like she’s the six foot giant with strange powers, and he feels all
of the blood rush into his gut.
                He shouldn’t be doing this.
***** Eating Ice Cream (Koichi/Yukako and Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Summary
     Koichi and Yukako join Josuke and Okuyasu for their Monday morning
     ice cream run.
Chapter Notes
     fuckin of course this was gonna be josuke and okuyasu duh
     but i also threw some koichi and yukako in there.
     also sorry i kinda switch perspective halfway through it was weird
     writing it and it'll probably be weird reading it.
                “I don’t know, Koichi…” mutters Yukako, looking down at her
feet. There’s a pink blush dusting her face like there usually is, but it seems
to be a deeper shade of red. “Ice cream in the morning just doesn’t seem like
it’s good for my figure.”
                “You’re beautiful no matter what your figure is,” replies
Koichi. “Besides, one ice cream in the morning won’t hurt, right?”
                “You say that now,” she says, and the other boys can hear tears
wavering in her voice. Josuke rolls his eyes and Okuyasu elbows him, trying not
to laugh. He hasn’t gotten his Monday ice cream yet, but just the company of
friends is making it a pretty good morning – even if he has to deal with Koichi
and Yukako’s mushy bullshit.
                Koichi stretches up on his tip toes and presses a kiss to
Yukako’s cheek, prompting mimed vomiting from both of the other boys. Koichi
shoots them a deadly look, and they both stop, but as soon as he’s turned back
around they’re laughing silently again.
                Finally Yukako makes up her mind and gets her ice cream. It’s
not the usual Monday morning ritual, and the ice cream shop owner seems
surprised, but then again, it’s not the usual Monday morning. It’s their last
Monday as first years, and as a treat, Koichi figured he could join Josuke and
Okuyasu.
                “Ice cream is bro time, Koichi,” muttered Okuyasu, but he knew
that his argument didn’t stand a chance. Yukako had helped them find and kill
Kira, and she had been attached to Koichi’s hip since they started dating.
Koichi didn’t seem to mind, and Josuke didn’t really care, and if they wanted
to have ‘bro’ time, Okuyasu knew Yukako was going to be there. It didn’t
reallybother him… but ice cream was he and Josuke’s morning ritual.
                “Fine,” he finally relented, with a (very tiny) push from
Josuke. “Let’s all get ice cream together.”
                And so here they were, leaving the ice cream shop, all with
double scoops in hand.
                “As many times as I’ve watched you get ice cream in the
morning, I didn’t realize how good it actually makes you feel.” Josuke’s
laughing as he takes another lick of his ice cream, walking in step with
Okuyasu in front of Koichi and Yukako. He turns and sees that Okuyasu isn’t
paying attention, so he nudges him with his elbow. “Hey man, you there?”
                “Huh?” Okuyasu turns with wide eyes, and Josuke turns back to
see what he’s looking at. Behind them, Koichi and Yukako are trading ice cream,
trying each other’s and commenting on their flavor. It’s cute in a strange way,
and Josuke can tell that Yukako is walking on cloud nine.
                “Hey Josuke, can I try your ice cream?”
                There’s no hesitation, and Josuke’s not sure Okuyasu did it on
purpose, but he shrugs and hands him his cone. As soon as Josuke tries it, he
can see why Okuyasu gets the strawberry every morning – it’s a burst of sweet
flavor on his tongue, delicious and tart and sweet. Okuyasu doesn’t seem nearly
as enthralled with Josuke’s choice, but he shrugs and hands it back to him
anyway.
                “Pretty good, I guess,” he mutters, making Josuke roll his
eyes.
                “Yeah, well, sorry I don’t know the best flavors for a Monday
morning.”
                They keep up their pace to school, walking like it’s any other
Monday morning, when Josuke realizes there’s an empty silence behind them. He
turns around for the first time in what he realizes is a few blocks, only to
see Yukako and Koichi far enough away that they’re out of earshot. He can’t
hear what they’re saying, only grimacing at the way they hold hands and look at
each other.
                “Hey!” he starts to shout, and then he feels an elbow in his
side. “What the fuck was that for?”
                “They’re far enough away,” whispers Okuyasu, switching his ice
cream to his outside hand, and Josuke gets the drift pretty quickly.
                He mirrors Okuyasu, moving his ice cream to his outside hand,
leaving his inside hand free to dangle at his side. Within moments he feels
Okuyasu’s fingers brushing his, threading through the spaces between them,
locking their hands together. Okuyasu’s palm is a little sweaty, but it always
is, and it’s a feeling Josuke knows well and loves. He takes one last glance
back at Yukako and Koichi, of whom the latter is pressing a kiss to Yukako’s
cheek, then turns back forward with a grin. Josuke leans over and presses a
kiss to Okuyasu’s cheek, feeling the blood heat his face before he even pulls
away.
***** Genderswapped (Kira) GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE *****
Chapter Summary
     Kira finds another victim.
Chapter Notes
     surprise surprise kids
     i wrote gender swapped kira, because i wanted to explore how he would
     explore the world if he were a woman.
     holla holla!
     also someone dies and it's kind of graphic so... be careful.
                It starts at the bank, exchanging her paycheck with the teller.
                “Miss Kira?” he asks, sparkling smile to match sparkling eyes.
She smiles in response, demure and shy – the way she’s supposed to – and
reaches out for her receipt slip.
                “Thank you,” she replies with a small bow, which hides her
tongue slipping out to lick her lips.
                He had absolutely beautifulhands.
                                      **
                Yoshiko didn’t always resent her place in society, but when it
came to dating, it made everything so much more difficult. She idly fantasizes
about the simplicity of possessing a male body, being able to just walk up,
flirt a little, and then ask herself. Instead, she had to flirt just enough to
be noticed, but not too much to seem desperate, and wait agonizing days or even
weeks until they would ask her out. If she happened to choose a shy man, it was
worse, waiting so long and dropping so many hints before he would even ask her
to dinner. Yoshiko grimaces and puts food in her mouth: her fingernails are
getting too long.
                Fortunately enough, her research showed that the young teller
at the bank would be an easier target. He seemed to have a serial dating
history, known as somewhat of a player, which worked in her favor.  What he was
like didn’t matter – his hands were beautifully sculpted. She could imagine
them in her mind even now, perfectly replicating the memory. They were strong,
she could tell, connected to arms that had obvious signs of muscle protruding
underneath skin. His knuckles had been sharp angles, not too knobby, not too
thin, connecting slim bones to one another. The spread of his hands was wide,
like he played piano, with manicured fingernails placed on the ends of each
finger with such delicate care that it made Yoshiko’s heart race. She smiled
just thinking about them, and decided to make her move within the next week.
                                      **
                He was easy to swoon, with only a wink and a crook of her
finger before he was following her outside of the bar. She had followed him
there, making sure he was there by himself, that no one would miss him. When
all of her parameters were set, she put her plan into motion, and led him far
into a back alley where they wouldn’t be seen.
                “You’re the girl from the bank, huh?” he breathed in her ear,
hands pressing against her hips. Yoshiko hid her grimace, schooling her face
into the lustful grin she had taken years to concoct and perfect. She let him
touch her, pressing lips to her neck, slimy as they were. Yoshiko was never one
for physical affection, but if it got her what she wanted, she would deal with
it.
                “Mmm… how could you tell?” she whispers back, pressing against
him just enough that he backs off for a moment. It gives her enough leverage to
reach her arms up around his neck. At first it seems like she’s going to pull
him in for a full kiss, but then he realizes that she’s stronger than she
looks. He’s strong, she can tell, but she’s been prepared for moments like
these since she was aware of her urges. Instead of pulling him in for a kiss,
she wraps her thin fingers around his neck, pressing her thumb to the space
just below his Adam’s apple, and presses hard.
                He starts to fight her like they always do, first reaching his
fingers into hers to pry them off, but she’s too practiced. Once he realizes
that won’t work, he starts to flail, kicking, punching, scratching – whatever
he can to stop her. But none of it works. It never does.
                She’s too strong, too practiced, too well-informed about the
human body and how to shut it down in the way she wants to. Yoshiko can’t stop
the smile from spreading on her face as the light fades from his eyes, the
realization dawning on him that he isn’t going to make it through this.
                She leans in and presses him against the wall, listening to the
last wheeze as he tries to scream. “You have beautiful hands,” she whispers,
breath hot where it comes off of his skin. He’s still choking, still wheezing,
but soon the familiar feeling of a body going still beneath her is back. It
sends shivers all through her spine, vibrating into the skin of her arms and
legs, a joyful tingle all through the tips of her fingers. She shudders when
the body goes limp beneath her, pulling her lip into her teeth, riding out the
relief and pleasure.
                It’s a quick cleanup, and the whole transaction only takes a
few minutes to transpire completely. Killer Queen places the explosion where
Yoshiko knows it will keep the man’s hand intact, and in moments the rest of
the man’s body is gone. The ride home is short, but not short enough, and she’s
positively thrilled at the thought of her date for the next few weeks.
                The bath is warm, his hand is only slightly cold, and Yoshiko
smiles. And so her quiet life continues, uninterrupted and perfect.
***** Different Clothing Style (Josuke/Okuyasu) (EXPLICIT) *****
Chapter Summary
     Okuyasu finally visits the maid cafe in Morioh.
Chapter Notes
     this is filthy filthy filthy smut.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                There was a maid café in Morioh.
                It was small and unassuming, as if it were just a regular old
café in the downtown strip, blending in with St. Gentleman’s and Deux Magots.
It wasn’t a regular maid café either. Outside were always two girls, dressed to
the nines in their cutest outfits, candy-colored and dolled up.
                It was a lolitamaid café.
                Okuyasu had to admit he was a little embarrassed walking in.
                “Enjoy your meal!” sings one of the girls standing outside the
café. He catches it at the last moment, tries to hide the red heat burning in
his face, and waves his hand in response before he hunches over and walks
through the doorway.
                “How are you today?” asks the next girl – the hostess – without
even looking up at him. He can tell she’s just as cute though, dark hair French
braided down her back. But he realizes she’s even cuter when she raises her
head and smiles at him.
                The smile morphs into a curled lip, shock and embarrassment all
rolled up into one expression. Her plump lips are perfectly tinted plum, eyes
lined neat and sharp, face a smoothed piece of porcelain, and then Okuyasu
looks deep into her eyes: they’re bluer than blue, like the color of Morioh’s
bay at high noon, and they make his heartstrings vibrate. He would know those
eyes anywhere.
                “Josuke?” he grunts, surprise making his voice crack. In tandem
to Josuke’s, he feels his cheeks fill with blood.
                “What –“ starts Josuke, teeth gritted to shattering. “Are you
doing here?”
                What the fuck kind of question does Josuke think he’s asking?
                “What are youdoing here?” exclaims Okuyasu, keeping his voice
to a low whisper.
                “Bullshit, I asked you first.”
                “Yeah, well, I’m not the one wearing a frilly purple dress.”
                Josuke’s face turns a deep shade of purple, rivaling the color
of the fabric hugging his body. He realizes after a moment that some of the
chatter nearby has stopped, and many of the other maids’ eyes are on them.
Josuke schools his face to neutral, then picks up the menu.
                “This way, sir,” he says, as if Okuyasu hasn’t slept beside him
for the past year. It makes something in his stomach churn, and the pink in his
face isn’t going away.
                “Bullshit, Josuke, you can’t just pretend I don’t know you.”
                “Oh sure I can, sir,” Josuke says flippantly, laying the menu
down and pulling out the chair. Then he leans in to whispers in Okuyasu’s ear.
“And it’s Junko here.”
                                      **
                Okuyasu lets Josuke – Junko– do his waitressing work without
another mention. The other maids definitely know something is up, because
Okuyasu can see them pointing from the kitchen, but he just smiles and winks,
which sends them blushing furiously away.
                It’s fun to pick on Josuke, but he’s pretty sure it’s better to
watch him instead.
                Josuke’s choice of dress is exactly what Okuyasu expected it
would be: the color of the dress is a deep purple, unremarkable and unnoticed,
but flattering against his skin. Instead, the novelty of the dress is in the
décor – gold lace at the sleeves and high collar, gold buttons down his back,
gold tulle coming out of the bottom. The large appliques (also gold) shine in
the light, heart on one shoulder and peace sign on the other, and it’s a wonder
no one has realized it’s Josuke. The French braid keeps him pretty well hidden
– incognito compared to his usual pompadour – but those eyes and that flair
should give him away. Yet they don’t, features hidden behind excellent
contouring and color control and when did Josuke’s lips get so big?
                He looks so cute in his stockings that, even flirting with a
stranger and bending over in front of them, Okuyasu can’t help but lick his
lips.
                His stomach rumbles.
                “Are you ready to order, sir?” asks Josuke in that sweet, high
voice.
                “Actually,” Okuyasu grunts. “I think one of the toilets is
clogged.”
                Josuke’s obviously practiced his neutral expressions, because
the statement doesn’t phase him. “Of course,” he says, unshaken. “I’ll go ahead
and let the maintenance staff know. Now what would you like to order?”
                “Mmm… I don’t know if maintenance can handle this problem…”
Okuyasu mutters, far enough beneath his breath that the other patrons, unless
they’re listening closely in, can’t hear him. “If you… know what I mean.”
                Josuke’s resolve breaks when Okuyasu adjusts himself justso.
His tongue darts out over his lips, smudging his makeup, but only just.
                “One moment, sir.”
                He all but runs over to his coworker, heels clicking on the
floor, and it only takes him a second before the other maid is nodding and
waving him off. Obviously, whatever he’s dealing with, she’s not interested in.
Okuyasu’s fine with that.
                                      **
                The bathroom stalls are weak, Okuyasu finds out quickly, and
the tile walls are cold.
                “Why didn’t you tell me?” he breathes into Josuke’s neck, hot
breath steaming up the tile. Josuke’s breathing is just as heavy, hitching when
Okuyasu drives his knee up his skirt. He grinds it – hard – knowing that only a
thin layer separates Josuke’s cock and the friction.
                “It’s – ah – embarrassing, ok?”
                “What?” retorts Okuyasu, pressing his teeth into Josuke’s soft
flesh. “The fact that you get off wearing women’s clothing?”
                He feels Josuke’s skin grow hot, and grins into his neck.
There’s no denying it now, and Okuyasu knows he’s got that indignant look on
his face, bottom lip pouted so far like he’s catching rain.
                “And anyway, it’s not embarrassing,” Okuyasu breathes. “It’s
hot.”
                Okuyasu drops to his knees with that phrase, and Josuke’s hands
are already threading through his hair. There’s a wet spot on his lilac panties
when Okuyasu flips his skirt up. He can’t help but grin, running his hands down
the smooth porcelain that are Josuke’s legs, waxed and smooth when they press
against his face because Josuke just wants him to touch. All Okuyasu wants to
do is hike them up on his shoulders and kiss them, but he’ll save that for
home. For now, Josuke wants friction and so does Okuyasu.
                “It’s a shame: these panties are so cute,” Okuyasu growls,
remarking on the lace and bow combo. And then they’re off, shoved down his
thighs, and Okuyasu is taking Josuke to the back of his throat, burning where
the tip touches.
                “F-fuck!” cries Josuke. His fingers tighten in Okuyasu’s hair,
manicured nails digging into his scalp and bringing tears to his eyes. Josuke
is shaking all over, curling his body overtop Okuyasu’s when his throat
flutters, trying to get purchase on the back of his jacket. He stays there,
breathing harshly through his nose while Josuke finds himself again.
                He’s relentless when Josuke straightens again, bobbing down
quick and full, hollowing his cheeks as he reaches the tip. The sounds are
thunder echoing off the tile walls, just lewd enough to tinge Okuyasu’s ears
pink.
                “Okuyasu…” Josuke groans, fists pulling his head back. “Okuyasu
stop… someone… someone will hear us.” He’s barely holding it together, irises a
thin blue line around his pupils, lips wet from where Josuke can’t keep his
mouth closed. He drags Okuyasu up from his knees and presses their lips
together, a wet assault on his person.
                “So?”  Okuyasu presses his body against Josuke’s, laying him
flat against the tile wall.
                “SoI could lose my job.” Josuke is still indignant, the fight
in his eyes still a small spark, but Okuyasu knows his resolve is thin. He
loves it when Josuke can’t keep it together.
                “Then you better try to keep quiet, huh?”
                Okuyasu’s fingers are up to Josuke’s mouth now, pressing down
on his tongue where his mouth had been agape. Josuke reacts immediately,
resolve thinner than first thought, and moans around them. The preparation is
sloppy and quick, and Josuke’s biting down on his lip for the entirety of it.
When Okuyasu presses his mouth back to Josuke’s, opened in a moan, there’s the
metallic twang of blood.
                Without any warning, Okuyasu lifts Josuke by his thighs and
presses his back against the cold tile. He only has time to chirp in surprise
before Okuyasu’s mouth is back, drinking down his moans while Josuke throws his
arms around his neck.
                “Is this ok?” Okuyasu asks. He’s breathing in his ear again,
warm and wet on Josuke’s skin. He waits for a nod, and when he gets it, he
pulls his head back. Josuke’s hair is falling out of his braid, sticking to his
sweat-slicked forehead. His cheeks are pink, lips red and swollen where his
lipstick has smudged. To Okuyasu’s surprise, Josuke’s eyes narrow, thin as his
irises are.
                “Don’t be an asshole.”
                Okuyasu punctuates his grin by pressing the head of his cock
into Josuke’s ass.
                “Ah! F-fuck!” Josuke whimpers and seethes the whole way down,
biting his lip to stifle himself, but doesn’t manage at the end. A guttural
moan rips out of his throat, and the flesh of his neck looks so tantalizing
that Okuyasu can’t keep to himself. The press of his teeth to the milky skin
coincides with a snap of his hips, all the way out and slamming back in.
                “Oku-!” Josuke chokes, but it’s the only coherent sound he
makes. After the first snap, Okuyasu’s hips move on their own, quick and rough
and hot. He looks so cute with his hand over his mouth, saliva mixing with plum
lipstick. Okuyasu could come from just the sight of him with his eyes squeezed
closed, but the way Josuke squeezes around him is so much sweeter.
                Josuke’s moans are thinly veiled now, his hand favoring an
open-palmed press against the wall instead of his mouth. His eyelids are
fluttering, and Okuyasu knows – can feel– how close he is, the fire consuming
his soul. Okuyasu’s grunts are drowned out by Josuke’s open mouthed moans and
he’s there he’s almost there he’s –
                There’s a creak of the door, the swoosh of a body crossing the
threshold, but Okuyasu’s hips only stutter.
                Okuyasu presses his mouth to Josuke’s, breathing hard through
his nose like a hurricane. His whole body is shaking, held together by a thread
that Josuke’s pulling with every heave of his chest. A high moan vibrates in
Josuke’s chest.
                “I can’t stop now, man,” breathes Okuyasu, quiet as he can.
“I’m so close, Josuke, I’m so close.”
                The friction isn’t enough, so Okuyasu lets one hand lift to the
wall, pressing Josuke’s body harder between his own and the tile. Josuke’s
fingers twist in the hair at the nape of his neck, and he mashes their mouths
together, cutting off the scream before it escapes.
                “Okuyasu, Okuyasu,” Josuke breathes, hot and wet on his face.
Their foreheads are hot and sticky where they press together, and his name
becomes a mantra on Josuke’s tongue. “I love you, I love you, ah! Ah! Ahhhh!”
                The peak is an explosion behind his eyelids, and then
everything is black but where his hand presses against the cold tile. Then,
after a moment of floating in the void, the door of the bathroom slamming rips
him back to reality.
                “Fuck, man,” Josuke groans. His body is slowly sliding down the
wall, and Okuyasu lets him down easy, pulling out of him with a squelch.
There’s the splatter on the floor moments later, and Josuke groans one more
time. “That’s so gross.”
                Okuyasu grins and scratches the back of his head. “Uh yeah,
sorry about that… and uh, sorry I messed up your makeup… and hair… and…
everything else.”
                “I still have three hours left on this shift,” Josuke mopes,
starting to pin his hair back into place. He turns and passes Okuyasu, his
steps just slightly awkward in his heels. “But I guess it’s ok.”
Chapter End Notes
     i wrote this while i was very stoned over multiple days because i've
     had a shitload of shit going on in my life, so sorry if it kinda goes
     in and out of proper pov orz
***** Morning Ritual (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Summary
     It's a morning ritual at the Higashikata residence.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
              It’s a morning ritual at the Higashikata residence: Okuyasu wakes
up before the sun like he always does, chuckling down at Josuke who is spread-
eagle across his bed. His mouth is open, his legs are wide open, and his hair
is a tangled knot behind his head.
              Okuyasu’s shower is long and warm, interspersed with moments of
contemplation, sleep, and washing. The sun comes up in his time in the water,
enough that it peeks through Josuke’s blinds and just bothers his eyes enough
to wake him.
              “Okuyasu,” Josuke grumbles outside of the bathroom, just loud
enough for him to hear. He can picture him in his t-shirt and boxers,
scratching one of either his head or his balls. Either way, he’s got his lip
curled and a crease in his brow.
              “Don’t take all the fuckin hot water, asshole,” he finishes, a
little louder this time, accompanied by a bang on the door.
              “I’m gonna take my sweet time,” Okuyasu teases from in the
shower, his voice hoarser than normal from disuse. “And you’re gonna fuckin
like it.”
              There’s another bang on the door, this time a muffled thud.
Okuyasu knows it’s from Josuke’s back slumping against the door, and he can’t
help but grin.
              “Or,” he starts, in his most seductive baritone. “You could just
come in and join me.”
              Within moments, Okuyasu feels the cold air rush in from the open
door, followed by a hard thud when Josuke throws a bar of soap.
              An hour or so later, by the time Josuke’s finally finished his
ablutions, they’re side-by-side in front of the mirror. Same as always, there
are twin cleared spots in the mirror, steam fogging the rest of their vision.
              “Okuyasu, man, you’re too fuckin close to me,” whines Josuke,
huffing and letting his hands fall from his hair. It’s partially up, but the
steam is giving him hell, fly-aways abound where he shapes the pompadour. “It’s
too hot.”
              Okuyasu rolls his eyes, dipping his fingers back into the
product. “You’re a goddamn furnace, Josuke, you can’t blame me for this.”
              Josuke’s lip is in a full pout, but he’s turned back to the
mirror. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘asshole,’ and then
his shoulder bumps Okuyasu’s just as he pastes one of the final hairs into
place.
              It’s enough to set Okuyasu off, and next he’s got a grin
plastered on his face, product in his hands, and his hand streamlined for
Josuke’s partially formed pomp. He catches it at the last second with a high
yelp, leaping onto the toilet, and then they’re giggling and tossing things at
one another and making an absolute mess.
              “Again?” comes a shriek from outside the door, as familiar as if
Okuyasu heard it every morning. “If you boys take any longer in there, I’m
going to take you to the store with me!”
              Same as every morning at the Higashikata house, Okuyasu and
Josuke quickly finish their hair, heat be damned. After all, it’s a morning
ritual at the Higashikata residence.
Chapter End Notes
     it felt really good to write this, guys. it's so cute it makes me
     want to vomit and i liked writing it and i miss writing.
     thank you to everyone who is reading this right now - your comments
     and kudos give me life. for those of you who have already left kudos
     and can't leave anymore, i see you, i hear you, and i love you, too.
     my father just passed away, and i haven't been able to write, but i
     hope to come back to it pretty quickly. <3 thank you, everyone.
***** Spooning (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Notes
     sorry this one's so short! the next one is quite a bit longer... ;)
                In the darkness of their bedroom, sweat still cooling on
Josuke’s skin, is when all of his other senses come alive. Okuyasu has drifted
off, his breathing slow and deep, but Josuke can’t possibly – Okuyasu is too
much to take in, too much to absorb when his senses are this alive.
                Josuke can’t see him, but that doesn’t matter, since he’s
committed every feature to memory. The way his mouth is parted, just a little
bit, and every crease and crevice on his face smooths, his worries a distant
memory. What’s important now are the things Josuke doesn’t notice in the waking
hours.
                Hair gel, moth balls, and a faint twinge of cologne twist about
him like smoke, permeating their sheets and pillows. The hair gel he’s been
using since they were teenagers, a constant in Josuke’s hidden list of favorite
things. Moth balls in all of his clothes from the years at his father’s,
learning from leftover teachings from his mother and his brother. Cologne that
is so potent it’s almost sour, a bottle from his dad’s box of things,
repurchased over and over.
                While he lightly sleeps, Josuke trails his fingers over his
skin in the dark. They’re both still sticky with sweat, but where it’s dry it’s
like silk, shifting and twitching beneath his touch. The moisturizer tucked
away in his sock drawer does wonders on his skin, making scars feel like folds
in satin. Josuke would mention it to him, but he can already imagine Okuyasu’s
stammering response, coupled with his red-cheeked expression. It’s
emasculating, Okuyasu would think; Josuke couldn’t say anything, for fear he
would stop using it. So he was content in these tired hours to just stroke his
fingers across it, letting Okuyasu keep his secret.
                Shallow like the pull still water are Okuyasu’s breaths, and
often Josuke stops to be sure he can feel the rise and fall of his chest. In so
many other ways he knows, skin to skin with Okuyasu’s back all the way against
Josuke’s chest, but he still has to stop and make sure. He tries to move
closer, tries to meld their bodies into one, feeling every intake of air,
feeling the life flow through him, feeling it warm his body and in turn,
Josuke’s. Okuyasu is there, he’s warm, he’s his.
                Exhaustion weighs heavy on his eyelids. It makes him whisper
sweet nothings in Okuyasu’s deafened ears, letting them fall there and permeate
their space before his eyelids slide closed.
***** Doing Something Together (Josuke/Rohan) RECREATIONAL DRUG USE *****
Chapter Summary
     Josuke presents Rohan with an illegal substance, because what
     teenager doesn't do that?
                “Where the fuckdid you get that?” Rohan’s voice is incredulous
and laced with venom, dripping from every syllable. Beneath the venom is
something that Josuke catches – something Rohan definitely does notwant him to
catch, but he does: intrigue.
                Josuke responds with a shrug and tosses the baggie on the
table. “I’m a teenager, dude. You can get anything if you know the right people
to ask… and high school is full of them.” He doesn’t miss Rohan’s eyeroll.
                “Did you get it from Tamami?”
                Shit. Now Josuke’s cheeks are pink, and he rubs the back of his
neck with his hand.
                “Yeah…”
                At this Rohan quirks an eyebrow. He touches the bag on the
table with the barest brush, flipping it over. Its green coloring makes it
obvious whatit is, but the smell confirms it. Of course Rohan has seen it
before, smelled it before – he’s been places – but he’s never triedit.
                “Is it safe?” Rohan asks. He doesn’t take his eyes off of it,
drumming his fingers on the wood beside it.
                Josuke seems taken aback by the question, eyes wide. “Uh, y-
yeah,” he stammers. “I don’t trust the guy, but he doesn’t fuck with Koichi’s
friends, ya know?”
                Rohan picks up the bag and eyes it in the light. He supposes
Josuke is right – if there was anyone to trust, it was Tamami, if only because
of his fear of Koichi. It tended to come in handy when Rohan needed something,
well, illegal.
                “I can’t do this,” Rohan rebuffs. He drops the bag back onto
the table, sliding it back toward its owner. Why Josuke even wanted to do
something like this with him, Rohan had no idea. He supposed it had something
to do with the sheer amount of time he had been spending at the mangaka’s house
lately. Josuke, as much as Rohan told him he wasn’t allowed to come over, kept
coming. Day in, day out, whether Koichi and Okuyasu were part of the entourage
or not, Josuke would show up at his doorstep, push past him into the door, and
plop down on his couch. It had become a familiar routine, penciling away at his
manuscript while Josuke tapped away at his GameBoy, and, though Rohan wouldn’t
admit it, had become comfortable.
                “Bullshit,” Josuke snorts back, leaving the bag on the table.
“It’s just weed, dude.”
                “Well, unlike you, I have a job.”
                Josuke snorts again. “Yeah, that you finished three hours ago.
I’m here every day, Rohan, I know your schedule.”
                Rohan opens his mouth to retort, but Josuke’s already running
his again. The corner of Rohan’s lip twitches.
                “They’re not going to drug test a mangaka andI know for a fact
that you’re like, four months ahead on your manuscript.”
                “Yes, but I need to keep my wits about me Josuke, just in case
–“
                “It would be good research.”
                Rohan’s backed into a wall now. It’s not that he didn’t want to
– in all honesty, he did. It was something he watched students do through high
school, culture brought over from the United States, an interesting
retrospection on himself in an induced state. He had been drunk, but this was
different. It was a nag at the back of his mind, something that people he knew
had tried, but he had never had the resources or direct interest to try
himself. And now it was here, presented by some insolent high school kid.
                “I can’t… I can’t put that I my comic, Josuke.” Rohan curses
himself for stammering. He can tell by the glint in Josuke’s eyes that he’s
caught him on his hook, and all he needs to do is dig it deeper.
                “All the great artists did drugs, Rohan. C’mon. Jackson
Pollock, van Gogh, Warhol...” Josuke’s so close to getting him, so close that
Rohan’s fingers are twitching, and he’s right there, he’s almost got him. “If
you hate it – “ Josuke bites his lip: this is his last ditch effort. “I’ll…
I’ll stop coming over.”
                There’s a silence that hangs in the air, but Josuke already
knows he’s won. Rohan can tell from the shit-eating grin on his face.
                He throws the bag into Josuke’s chest, stalking past him.
“We’re doing it in the bathroom,” Rohan states. “That way I have air vents. I
don’t want my furniture smelling like it.”
                Rohan doesn’t need to see Josuke’s face to know there’s a fat
grin on it.
                                      **
                It only takes Rohan a few minutes of watching Josuke struggle
before he yanks the plate out of his hands.
                “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. It’s not difficult, rolling the
ground leaves inside of the paper, but Josuke’s hands are so large, his
movements so clumsy, that it’s just not rolling correctly. There’s a pink
dusting on Josuke’s cheeks when Rohan takes it, flawlessly rolls it, and hands
it back to him like he’s been a stoner his whole life.
                “Wow,” Josuke breathes, holding it between his fingers. “That’s
better than Okuyasu’s roll.”
                Rohan snorts. “Of course it is. Now let’s do this before I kick
you out of my house.”
                Rolling his eyes and grinning, Josuke puts it to his lips and
lights it. “Yeah yeah yeah,” he says, a mutter through his pinched lips.
                Trying not to make it obvious, Rohan watches every movement:
how he carefully pulls his lips over his teeth and wraps it around the unlit
end, the tense of Josuke’s jaw when he pulls into his mouth, then the fill of
his lungs when he pulls it away. He holds it in, passing it to Rohan, and
stands up on the toilet to blow it out the vent.
                “Thank you,” says Rohan, eyeing it with suspicion. “I don’t
want it to sink into my walls.”
                “This ain’t my first rodeo, Rohan.” His laugh is punctuated
with a cough, and he’s climbing back down from the toilet. “Now hit that before
it goes out.”
                His fingers aren’t shaking, that would be ridiculous. He
watched carefully enough, mimics the pullover of his lips, the pull of his jaw,
the inhale… and then something goes wrong. Ash burns in his throat, through his
esophagus. His lungs fill with poison, his eyes burn with tears, and instead of
the smooth inhale and exhale, he’s coughing violently.
                “Fuck!” he cries, but it’s just a stutter in his cough. He’s
going to vomit, oh god he’s going to vomit and Josuke’s on the toilet and this
is so embarrassing and he’s going to dieand Josuke is… laughing?
                There’s a strong hand on his back, rubbing a soothing pattern
into it, while Josuke’s shoulders shake. He takes the joint with his other hand
and moves to the edge of the bathtub beside Rohan. Taking another easy hit, he
just looks up and exhales, still laughing, still rubbing circles into Rohan’s
back.
                “Here,” says Josuke, easy and calm. Rohan can tell it’s already
working on him, because Josuke’s normally wide and aware eyes are half-lidded,
his jaw slacked in a goofy smile, and he looks more at ease than he ever has.
Rohan warily takes it from him again.
                “Tuck your lips over your teeth.” He’s coaching him. As
embarrassing as it is to have this kidtell him what to do, he supposes the
whole situation is embarrassing and ridiculous. “Yeah, like that.”
                Josuke’s eyes are focused on his mouth, and now his hand comes
up to rest on his chest. “Pull in without inhaling, like you’re drinking from a
straw.”
                Rohan does so, and the sting isn’t there like it was before. He
can taste the smoke in his mouth, an unpleasant taste, but compared to the pain
from before, it’s nothing.
                “Now open your mouth and breathe in.”
                It still hurts, but not nearly as bad as it did before. Coupled
with actual oxygen it goes down much smoother, filling up his lungs, and he
can’t hold it as long as Josuke, but when he breathes out it’s not with a cough
and stars behind his eyes.
                “Yeah, just like that.” The words leave Josuke’s mouth like
liquid, and it makes something in Rohan’s gut churn. His eyelashes are so long
and he’s so close to Rohan. His skin is twitching where it almost touches
Josuke’s bare arms, jacket hanging over the sink, and he has to scooch away
from him. Josuke takes the hint, and moves back to the toilet with a laugh.
                They finish the joint without much more incident, and Rohan
starts to feel it sink into his whole being. His limbs are lead, deadweight on
his body, and he can feel his eyelids drooping and everything around him
clouding. Despite the heaviness, his chest feels light, and his body feels like
he’s floating. He doesn’t have the half grin on his face like Josuke does, but
there isa calm across his face he’s never felt before, each wrinkle and grimace
gone in favor of soft pudding.
                There’s also nothing to stop words from coming out of his
mouth.
                “Josuke,” he says after what feels like hours of silence. “Why
did you want to do this with me?”
                It’s the first time since they’ve started that the grin wipes
from Josuke’s face. “You know,” he begins, and he finally makes eye contact. “I
think it’s because I thought it would be cool.”
                “That’s… that’s not a good enough answer,” replies Rohan,
shaking his head.
                Josuke, to his disappointment, shrugs.
                “I don’t know, man,” he continues, and now he’s looking away.
He’s looking at the walls, at the ceiling, anywhere but Rohan. “I guess like…
you’re always so uptight and you never really get a chance to relax. And I
wanted to see you unwind.”
                It’s a better answer – it’s at least something – but it’s still
not enough.
                “Why do you care?”
                The pink dust on Josuke’s cheeks is back, but this time it’s a
darker shade, deepening as the moments pass.
                “I – you know – I uh… I think you’re pretty cool and I give a
shit about you and I thought maybe… I don’t know, I thought maybe it would be
nice to see you… unwind.”
                Rohan, under no circumstances, would kiss an 18 year old boy.
But, in the heat of the moment, smoke fogging his brain and deadening his
inhibitions, he does anyway.
                Josuke’s lips are soft underneath his, just as soft as they
looked. When he kissed back it was lazy and calm, a relaxed parting of his lips
to let Rohan slide against him. His hand comes lazily up to Rohan’s neck,
resting on it and pulling him impossibly closer.
                “I’m sorry,” Rohan whispers against his mouth, a blatant lie
that Josuke can taste on his lips.
                “’S fine.”
                He pulls back to find blue lipstick smeared across Josuke’s
mouth and on the skin around it. His lips are swollen and spit slicked from
their kiss, the hair on the back of his neck mussed from where Rohan hadn’t
even realized his fingers were tangled.
                “You’re 18,” Rohan mutters in a moment of clarity, fighting
through the haze of the drug. “I’m like 22… I can’t… we can’t…”
                Josuke’s hands are tugging at his shirt, pulling him back down
and onto his lap.
                “Bullshit,” Josuke mutters, and pulls him back into the kiss.
                The druggy fog amplifies every sensation, amplifies the feeling
of Josuke’s soft hands where they explore his skin, amplify the grind of his
hips.
                Just when Rohan can feel it, the burning sensation tenting his
pants and he couldn’t even careabout staining them right now, Josuke pulls
away. He breathes heavy, fists still balled into Rohan’s shirt, and rests his
forehead on his shoulder. There’s a whine that Rohan would be embarrassed about
if he weren’t so close, and Josuke has the nerve to chuckle.
                “Do you wanna…” he says with a breath, and Rohan is already
nodding. But the rest of the sentence isn’t what he’s expecting.
                “Do you wanna get some food?”
***** In Formal Wear (Yukako/Koichi) *****
Chapter Summary
     It's a big day and Yukako is a little low on confidence.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                After months of planning, months of fretting, and months of
Okuyasu and Josuke driving Koichi up a wall, the day is finally here.
                “I can’t believe they’re finallygetting married,” Yukako
breathes. Behind the curtain she’s pulling off her leggings, making sure her
panty line won’t show through her new dress. It’s the same dark blue as
everyone else’s wedding party outfits, but the fear is still there, even with
the nude underwear that shape to her hips.
                “I think I’m more relieved than anything,” Koichi sighs from
the other side of the curtain. He’s getting ready and – even with as close as
they are – they both appreciate the space. “Are you ready yet?”
                Yukako rolls her eyes. “I just got in here. I’m not even close
to ready.”
                There’s a silence between them, not uncomfortable, but laced
with understanding. Koichi knows – better than other men their age do – how
long it takes to look beautiful, and on a day as important as this, he’s extra
understanding. She knows he’s on the other side, finished and styled, but he
won’t huff and he won’t push her. The epitome of a gentleman.
                Or not.
                She feels the curtain whoosh, and in front of her is Echoes Act
I, staring her down and showing Koichi her nearly naked body from the outside.
She’s in her underwear, and Koichi has definitelyseen more of her body, but it
still makes the blood in her body rush to the surface. Her skin turns pink
where she looks at it in the mirror, and she attempts to cover her body with
her hands, at a loss for any other cover.
                “Koichi!” she shouts, blood boiling in her face. “You asshole!”
                Before she knows what she’s doing, her hair is moving of its
own accord, falling out and pushing Echoes back through the curtain.
                Laughter peals from the other side, high and clear, but it only
serves to redden her face more.
                “You look beautiful,” he says suddenly, his voice calm contrast
to his laughter. It does nothing to fix her blush.
                “Thank you,” she spits, then goes back to fixing her hair.
“It’s not too much, right?”
                “Is what too much?”
                “The makeup? I don’t look toobeautiful, right?”
                “You look perfect.”
                “But not too perfect?”
                “Not too perfect.”
                Satisfied, she finishes her hair and slips her dress on, and
steps out from behind the curtain.
                When Koichi’s mouth hangs open, it doesn’t do much to assuage
her anxiety.
                “It’s too much isn’t it?” she asks, her chest blotching red. “I
don’t want this to be about me… this is their day…” He doesn’t respond, still
looking at her with his mouth agape.
                The body of the dress is short and lacy, leaving one shoulder
bare and the other form fitted with a long, lace sleeve. It hugs her figure and
accentuates her every curve, punctuated by the sheer skirt that wraps around
her waist and flows down into a long dress. There’s a cutaway for her left leg,
opened and blowing in the slightest breeze, the dark blue fabric contrasting
her milky skin. It’s too much.
                “Koichi!” she exclaims, and he finally shakes out of his
trance.
                “No, Yukako,” he says quietly, stepping toward her and wrapping
his arms around her. “You look beautiful.”
                “But it’s too much.”
                Now he’s tilting his head up, pressing his lips to her cheek.
The warmth spreads from that spot through her face and down her chest, filling
her whole body.
                “No,” he replies. “No matter what, they’ll make sure this
wedding is about them. They’ve always had a way of doing that, haven’t they?”
                At this she laughs, feeling the tension in her chest start to
dissipate. Koichi is right. That’s how this works.
                “Hopefully they won’t do that at ours,” she sighs, twisting the
band on her finger, and now Koichi is laughing.
                “Really, though, you’re going to give them a run for their
money.”
                She’s blushing again, always blushing at every compliment,
every word out of Koichi’s mouth. He sees her wavering confidence, leans up and
presses a light kiss to her lips, and it’s gone again. His fingers slip through
hers and give a light squeeze. All of his love flows through them, warm into
her hand and up through her arm, and she’s ready.
                “Ok,” she says with a sense of finality and confidence. “Let’s
go watch those two idiots get married.”
Chapter End Notes
     shit sorry this chapter is kind of all over the place. i just kinda
     started writing and ran with it... i'm getting into nanowrimo mode
     and that's not too good for this fic.
***** Dancing (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Notes
     I've actually finished ALL of the 30 day prompts! I'm just working on
     revising them and posting them now :) so look forward to some
     updates!
     this is just a quick drabble, but the next chapter is slightly
     longer? there are a few that are longer later, too!
“Bro, you seem tense,” mutters Josuke, leaning in close to his ear. Strange
gesture, since it’s just the two of them in an empty room. “You ok?”
Okuyasu’s stomach does another flip, but instead replies, “Yeah, dude, why
wouldn’t I be ok?”
There were many reasons Okuyasu wouldn’t be ok, and not having a shred of dance
experience while learning a dancewas one of them. Especially when it was for
his –
“ – wedding. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but my mom insisted,”
Josuke’s talking a mile a minute, and Okuyasu has missed most of what he said.
“Wait, no, stop,” Okuyasu interrupts, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath;
if anyone would understand, it was Josuke. They were getting married for a
reason, right? “I… I want to do it. I just… don’t know how, ok?”
Josuke quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t know how to what?”
“Y’know,” Okuyasu mutters, opening his palms at the room. Josuke doesn’t seem
to catch on. “Dance.”
The look on Josuke’s face has the blood rushing to Okuyasu’s: a grin spreads on
it, eyes glinting with mischief, like a child with his hand in the cookie jar.
Okuyasu’s heart breaks.
“Look man.” Okuyasu pushes away from him, running his fingers through his hair.
“I’m not refined like you and my dad never really had any time to teach us, and
then my mom died before she could – and Josuke, man, I don’t even know if they
knew how to dance.”
He doesn’t notice Josuke’s face getting closer until it touches his. Seawater
eyes wash over him and then plump lips catch his in a gentle kiss.
“I don’t care, dude.” Josuke opens his arms, his body pressed wholly against
Okuyasu’s. One hand is gentle on his waist, the other threading itself between
his fingers. “We’ll just have to take it slow.”
“You step like this first,” Josuke continues, soft and patient.
***** Baking (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Notes
     lemme tell you i wish i had written more on this one because i think
     it's cute and one day i'm gonna draw it.
                “Are you even reading the measurements right?” snaps Josuke,
straightening his back from bending over the mixing bowl, scowl on his face.
“That seems like way too much salt.”
                “No, dude, don’t fuck with me – it’s right here: 1 tablespoon…
wait. Teaspoon of salt.” Okuyasu’s eyebrows furrow with frustration, but he
never looks up.
                Josuke lets out a frustrated groan, barely keeping himself from
fisting his hands in his hair. Their ‘date’ wasn’t going nearly as well as he
had hoped.
                They were just baking – this should have been easy. It was
supposed to be a quiet night at Josuke’s house, baking Okuyasu’s father a cake
for his upcoming birthday, and the recipe seemed foolproof. Okuyasu was an
excellent cook due to years of independence, and Josuke wasn’t a complete
idiot. There was no way they could fuck up a cake.
                Yet here they were, covered in cake flour and cocoa powder,
cake a gelatinous, hideous, un-cake-like mess in its bowl.
                “How about we switch? I don’t see how I could have any more of
a problem reading the directions than you,” Josuke suggests nonchalantly. It’s
a low blow, even if the words themselves sound calm and meaningless. Josuke’s
looking off into the other direction, reaching into the cabinet for an
ingredient he’s not even sure they need, waiting for Okuyasu to give in.
                “How about,” mutters Okuyasu, and his tone says Josuke has
gotten under his skin. “Youswitch.”
                “What?” Josuke responds with a snort and turns around. He opens
his mouth again before he sees his boyfriend, standing a foot away with a
handful of flour. In a flash, his vision is blinded by white, an avalanche of
tasteless powder slamming into his face and clothes.
                “You fuckin’ – “ Josuke starts, but then he opens his eyes and
sees the grin plastered on Okuyasu’s face. His boyfriend is already covered in
flour, the air currents dragging half of the powder back onto his body, but
Josuke determines it’s not enough. The anger and frustration inside of him
disappear, replaced with coursing adrenaline as he leaps over the counter to
grab an egg.
                “Fuck!” Okuyasu shouts, trying to dodge, but Josuke is already
there, smashing the egg into his chest with a cheeky laugh.
                There’s the telltale sound of space being erased, and Okuyasu
is on the other side of him, cake batter staining his clothes where it drips
onto him from his hand.
                “No way, dude, that’ll actuallystain,” cries Josuke, hoping for
some semblance of mercy. But there’s no mercy in his eyes, Josuke realizes;
instead, there’s a mischievous glint, framed by a smile covered in flour, egg,
and chocolate. Josuke looks around himself frantically, trying to find a way to
escape, but the kitchen is too small and too cramped and there’s too much shit
on the floor. Hopeless.
                So he does the one thing he knows will distract Okuyasu, if
only for a moment: he lunges forward, pressing their flour-coated lips
together.
Okuyasu presses into the kiss, and for a moment Josuke thinks he’s safe. But
then he feels Okuyasu’s lips curl into a smile – it’s not enough to distract
him, and milliseconds later, the hand covered in cake batter is between them,
smashing into his chest with a cold plop.
                Josuke doesn’t stop kissing him, just runs his egg-covered
fingers deliberately though Okuyasu’s hair. Then Okuyasu’s hand is on his face,
cold batter smearing into his skin. They’re both so focused on destroying one
another that they don’t hear the front door close.
                “Boys!” Tomoko shouts, slight warning for the shoe that slams
into Josuke’s body a moment later.
                Oops.
***** Random Song (Josuke/Rohan) EXPLICIT *****
Chapter Summary
     Rohan has feelings and wants Josuke to stay the night, but can't tell
     him because he's a big dumb.
Chapter Notes
     The song used was: Light of the Morning by Band of Skulls
How Rohan ended up here – Josuke bouncing on his lap, head thrown back and
gasping in pleasure – Rohan wasn’t sure. It had started with Josuke visiting
every day, long after Koichi moved away, long after Okuyasu moved to the city,
long after Jotaro and Joseph had left Morioh. It left just the two of them, and
as much as Rohan loathed Josuke, he was the only other person in Morioh who
really understood what happened all those years ago. Whether he wanted it or
not, they were drawn to one another, first just as enemies, next as reluctant
friends, and third as… whatever this was.
Josuke always made the first move, pressing Rohan against a wall and throwing
his knee between his legs, forcing Rohan into a melted pile of goo. Then they
would have the most incrediblesex, the leftover loathing biting into every
kiss, every fevered touch, every scratch up Rohan’s back while he fucked
Josuke. Then, sometime early in the morning, Josuke would leave and Rohan would
wake up to his blissfully empty – if too warm and musky – bed.
Three times a week they had been doing this.
Three times a week for a year.
Watching that punk kid bounce up and down on his cock, feeling his teeth break
the skin of Rohan’s shoulder, listening to him breathe and whine into his ear –
those things made Rohan ravenous, but for the past few months, something else
had weaseled its way into Rohan’s heart. He tried to ignore it, over and over,
but it always came back: that terrible, compressed feeling in his chest when he
looked at Josuke sleeping soundly beside him.
That compressing feeling, that uncomfortable fist clenching around his heart –
he realized what it was too late. By that time it had already taken him over.
Watching Josuke lie beside him, his mouth just open enough to breathe, his hair
falling in loose, long strands around his head – Rohan shakes his head mid
thrust, throwing himself back into reality.
He wanted to see that face he hated so much when he woke up in the morning,
flick his nose and make him breakfast, but by the time the sun rose, Josuke was
always gone.
“Augh, fuck!” shouts Josuke, splitting himself onto Rohan with all the force in
his body. Rohan’s ability to see disappears completely for a moment, lost in
the lightning pleasure of Josuke’s ass.
“Josuke, fuck fuck, Josuke,” Rohan pants, his body folding up into Josuke, arms
lacing around his back. Rohan’s fingernails dig into his milky skin, fierce and
angry. The burn must be good for Josuke, because in the next moment he’s
folding over, pressing Rohan back down into the bed, mouth open and breathing
in his air.
Rohan’s name tears out of Josuke’s throat when Rohan’s fingers scrabble to grip
his hips, sure to leave bruises by morning. The tight heat of Josuke’s ass is
too much and not enough all at once, driving him over an edge that doesn’t
exist, sending him over a cliff that he didn’t know he was standing on. Rohan’s
whole body is shaking with effort and pleasure, and his vision spots white.
“Rohan,” Josuke groans, hoarse and raw. “Can I – augh fuck – can I stay?”
Rohan’s hips stutter to a stop, but Josuke is relentless, pounding down on him
with no signs of stopping.
“What?” Rohan splutters, teeth grinding. His chest is tight, so tight, and he
can’t breathe – there’s no air left in his lungs.
Josuke, as breathless, presses their foreheads together, long hair falling
around him and all he can smell is Josuke’s product, fruity and in this moment
everything Rohan needs. That smell that he sleeps next to three times a week,
that he used to hate, that he could name anywhere. That smell that he craves.
“Can I – ah – stay the night?”
Rohan’s heart flutters, jumping up into his throat. Josuke doesn’t wait for an
answer, just tilts his hips so his mouth falls open, body springing back up and
arching, a scream of pleasure tearing out of his throat. He’s grinding down at
a different angle now, clenching erratically but just right so that it’s
consuming Rohan in fire.
“Yes, oh my god, yes! Josuke, yes!” he shouts, fingers gripping even tighter.
Rohan climbs so rapidly that he almost passes out, feeling so much at once and
losing himself to every gyration of Josuke’s hips. His jaw clenches hard and
he’s spilling into Josuke, a growl burning his throat raw. It is, without a
doubt, the hardest he’s ever come in his life, and his chest is twisted so
tight he thinks he may never breathe again.
Sure enough, he does. After moments that feel like hours, Rohan comes back
down, lands himself back on Earth. His fingers are sore when he pries them off
of Josuke’s hips, angry red welts left in their place. The air comes rushing
back into his lungs like a gale, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that
Josuke is just as wrecked as he is. His fingernails still burn into Rohan’s
chest as his body begins to relax, one muscle at a time. Josuke’s eyes are
still closed, mouth still open, but his breathing is becoming regular.
“Holy shit,” Josuke gasps finally, opening his eyes. Rohan has to look away
he’s staring so intensely, a blush rising to his cheeks. Josuke is the first to
pull himself off of Rohan, grimacing with the loud squelch of Rohan’s cock
slipping out of him. He moves quickly to the bathroom and Rohan hears the
faucet running.
Had Rohan heard him correctly, or was he just imagining things?
“Here you go, asshole,” Josuke says, tossing a warm, damp washcloth his way.
Rohan’s face contorts into its regular snarl, and he quirks an eyebrow up to
his hairline.
“What a brat,” he mutters, yet he can’t stop the blood from spreading across
his chest and up his neck.
After a few moments of silence and clean up, Josuke walks back over to the bed
and makes himself at home beside Rohan. They’re both still naked, but Josuke
curls up beside him anyway, face pressing into his chest before Rohan has a
chance to object or move.
“You meant what you said, right?” he mutters, breathing slow into Rohan’s
chest. Rohan feels Josuke’s body tense up, feels him shake ever so slightly;
but Rohan’s body is loose and the tightness in his chest is expanding into
relaxation, melting into his whole body.
“Of course I did,” he answers, snootiness weaseling its way into his voice. It
really is just for show, though, because he’s light and airy and Josuke is
staying the night with him.
“I hope you like eggs, dick,” Josuke mutters, before Rohan is wrapping his arms
around him and drifting off into sleep.
***** Arguing (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Summary
     Josuke gets a girlfriend. Okuyasu gets jealous.
After years of speculation, bated breath, and love letters at his feet, it
finally happened: Higashikata Josuke got a girlfriend.
He mentions it casually at Deux Magots during lunch, like a passing comment on
the weather. It doesn’t sink in right away, just floats on the surface of the
conversation, until three sets of incredulous eyes slowly turn to him. Koichi’s
mouth is open, Yukako’s eyebrow is arched to her hairline, and those definitely
aren’t tears in Okuyasu’s eyes.
Josuke looks like he just ate the last piece of cake, clearly labeled ‘Mom;’
there’s a little smile on his face, curling just one corner of his mouth up as
he takes a sip of tea. Okuyasu feels his gut churn, but before he or Koichi can
say anything, Yukako is the first to speak.
“Who?” she says simply. She’s not close with Josuke really, only friends by
Koichi’s proxy, but she isthe one most likely to know the lucky girl. Okuyasu
tries his best not to look like a deer caught in headlights, looking from
Yukako to Josuke and back a little too quickly.
Josuke mentions a name that Okuyasu isn’t familiar with, hasn’t even heard, and
when Yukako gives them the dig, he realizes she’s not in their class.
“A first year?” he says with an unexpected bite to his voice. Koichi spares him
a look, glances at him out of the corner of his eye, but says nothing.
“Yup,” Josuke replies. He leans far back in his chair, slick and smug, and
Okuyasu feels tears stinging his eyes again.
There’s a silence while Okuyasu’s throat closes up.
“This is bullshit.”
                                      **
“Do you like her?”
“Whatever, man.”
“Isn’t she cute?”
“I guess.”
“There’s no need to cry, man.”
“Fuck off.”
It’s been two weeks since Josuke got a girlfriend, and the pit in Okuyasu’s gut
just seems to keep growing.
She’s pretty cute: short black hair, big brown eyes, and, Okuyasu realizes, she
looks strangely like Josuke’s mom. It kind of weirds him out at first, but when
she stands beside him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he realizes that
they fit.
 “You know, you don’t have to be so shitty to her,” Josuke mentions after
school. They’re walking home, having left Josuke’s new girlfriend at the corner
where they split paths. It was awkward, walking with the two of them hand in
hand like some third, unnecessary wheel.
“I’m not being shitty, dude,” Okuyasu replies, a blatant lie. At least, he
doesn’t mean to be shitty to her, he just can’t help it: the pit in his gut
eats all of his positive emotions, leaving him with only bitterness.
 “Bullshit.” He says it with a roll of his eyes. “If you don’t like her, man,
you gotta tell me.”
It’s not that. The words are there, but Okuyasu doesn’t say them – isn’t quite
sure what they mean to him.
“She’s fine.”
“Doesn’t seem fine.”
“It’s fine.”
It’s not.
                                      **
The pit in Okuyasu’s gut continues to grow and widen, until he’s sure it’s
going to consume his whole body.
“Have you talked to Josuke?” asks Yukako, ever the one with love advice. She’s
sitting as close to Koichi as she can without being in his lap, like she always
is. It used to make Okuyasu uncomfortable, watching them together like that,
but after Josuke and his girlfriend… well, he can deal with it.
“What would I even talk to him about?” he retorts, harsh and biting. “Sorry.”
He takes a drink of his coffee while Koichi analyzes him quietly. Yukako and he
share a silent look, but it’s pregnant with conversation. He’s missing
something, something that they’ve been discussing and not telling him.
“What?” Okuyasu pressures, hoping they’ll let him in their secret discussion.
He’s been left out of so much lately, it’s too much to be left out of this,
too.
Yukako turns to him after another silent moment of deliberation. Then, with no
inflection, she says, “You could tell him you’re in love with him.”
She’s right.
“No.”
                                      **
A month in to his relationship, Josuke finally confronts Okuyasu. They’re at
Josuke’s house, mid Mario Kart, when he brings it up like it’s nothing.
“So…” he starts, dropping a banana behind him. “Do you hate me now?”
The question comes out of nowhere, and Okuyasu isn’t exactly sure how to
answer. It definitely isn’t hatethat Okuyasu feels.
“What’re you talking about, dude?” He doesn’t look at him, doesn’t pause in his
quest for first place, just drops a red shell headed straight for Josuke’s
back.
“Seriously?” Now Josuke pauses the game, and Okuyasu feels blood rush into his
face. He doesn’t have the escape of looking at the game screen anymore. He
presses the start button rapidly, futile as it is.
Josuke’s eyes are burning, and now that Okuyasu looks at his face, he can see
he’s almost shaking with anger. Just under the surface, that rage is boiling
that Okuyasu knows all too well.
“Dead serious,” Okuyasu replies. The pit is opening, releasing a month’s worth
of quashed feelings and thoughts and hatefor this girl he barely knows. Josuke
with his arm around her, kissing her forehead, holding her hand, walking side
by side on their way home. Where Okuyasu should be – where Okuyasu has been for
the past two years. Part of him wants Josuke to pick him up and throw him up
against a wall, destroying and rebuilding him with those fists over and over
again. Part of him wants to throw Josuke up against the wall, erasing chunks of
him until he can get rid of him entirely.
The pit begins to engulf him when Josuke’s fists ball into the front of his
school uniform. Their game is forgotten while he slams him into the wall.
“I told you to tell me if you don’t fucking like her,” Josuke growls, but
Okuyasu isn’t phased. He’s dealt with this before – Josuke’s anger is the easy
part.
“I told you she’s fine,” he replies, calm betraying the black hole tearing
through him. It pisses Josuke off even further, so he lifts him off the wall
and slams him hard back into it.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Okuyasu.”
“I’m not.”
He is.
“Fucking stop lying to me!” Josuke is shouting now, slams him against the wall
one more time, and Okuyasu is losing it.
“She’s fine,” he says again, and his whole being is swallowed by the pit. His
face breaks open, blood rushing into his cheeks. Josuke’s eyes are burning into
him and he can’t meet them, not like this, not while he lets the pit swallow
their friendship.
Josuke’s arms tense like he’s going to slam him again, and Okuyasu wishes he
just would. He wouldn’t have to live with these feelings if he could just die.
He tenses in anticipation of a punch, or another slam, or something else
entirely.
To his surprise, however, Josuke begins to laugh instead. It’s deep in his
throat at first, setting Okuyasu gently down on the ground and untangling his
fists from his jacket, then evolves into an open mouthed, honest-to-goodness
laugh. It’s a complete 180 as he throws his head back, and it’s got Okuyasu’s
whole body shaking.
“It’s not her at all, is it?”
Okuyasu still can’t look at him – all the blood is in his face now and he’s
sure he’s going to pass out. He hopes Josuke will get the hint, will just tell
him to leave and not make him say it out loud. But, as much as Okuyasu enjoys
poking the wound, Josuke enjoys it a thousand times more.
Josuke forces his head back to the front so he can look at him. “Say it.”
His eyes are piercing, staring down into his very soul, and Okuyasu feels the
pit finally swallow him.
“Just…” Okuyasu begins, averting his eyes, searching for words. “If you’re
gonna hit me just get it over with.” He deserves this. He deserves this for
ruining their friendship with feelings, for pushing Josuke into a corner he
never needed to be in.
Josuke reaches his hand up, and Okuyasu goes rigid. But, for the second time,
Josuke surprises him: instead of his fist, Josuke’s lips connect with his
mouth, molding softly to him like they’re meant to be there.
Okuyasu’s breath rushes out of his body, but it doesn’t matter because he could
die in this moment breathing Josuke’s air and be fine. Josuke pulls back after
seconds that feel like hours and presses his forehead to Okuyasu’s. His
pompadour is messed up, but he doesn’t seem to care, face plastered with a
toothy grin and unfocused eyes.
“You know,” Josuke says, leaning in to press another kiss to his mouth. “I
don’t think I like her very much anyway.”
This time, Josuke doesn’t tell him not to cry.
***** A Holiday (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Summary
     Josuke receives a Pocky Day gift.
It happened again. At this point, Okuyasu’s lost count of how manytimes it’s
happened.
“It’s alright dude, it’ll just be a second,” Josuke says, following the girl
who is all but dragging him away. He shoots him a look that reads Sorry, man, I
don’t wanna be a dick, but Okuyasu just shrugs. Like he said, he’s lost count
of how many times it’s happened – it’s not like it’s new or anything.
Okuyasu watches awkwardly from 20 or so feet away, shifting uncomfortably from
one foot to the other. He watches the same thing he always does: the girl’s
face turns red as an apple, she looks away and hands him a wrapped gift, and
then he awkwardly shakes his head and hands it back to her. Sometimes the girl
will cry, sometimes she’ll just turn and walk away, stiff as a board. Today it
looks like a crier.
She’s gorgeous, Okuyasu notices. There’s a look on her like Yukako – long legs
and long hair, well-shaped face and beautiful figure – but without the
underlying viciousness. His gut begins to roil like it usually does, a mixture
of jealousy and guilt all steaming through his veins. They’re all so cute, and
Josuke gets at least one confession a week. No girl has ever looked at Okuyasu
that way, much less a girl that looked like that.
Then comes the guilt, settling in on top of the jealousy: maybe he’sthe reason
that Josuke doesn’t go out with those girls. Maybe Okuyasu is the only thing
holding Josuke back from dating someone who’s actually in his league.
Josuke comes back with a smile that melts away most of his tension, clapping
him on the back and reaching in his pocket for something.
“Do you want this?” Josuke asks, handing him a box of strawberry Pocky. He
doesn’t usually take the gifts, but these sweets are obviously from the girl, a
pink bow wrapped carefully around it.
He does want them, but it feels wrong to take the sweets from him. After all,
they were given to Josuke as a gift, and he should be the one eating them,
whether he accepted the girl’s confession or not.
“C’mon,” Josuke urges, shoving them into his chest. “It’s Pocky day.”
“I don’t know, man. It doesn’t feel right.”
Josuke rolls his eyes, shoving the box back into his pocket.
“I should’ve known,” he says with a sigh. “If I keep eating them, though, I’m
gonna get fat.”
Josuke shoves him, pressing a hand roughly into his shoulder, and it makes
Okuyasu stumble to the side. He retaliates with a bump of his own shoulder,
pushing Josuke off balance into the grass. But when Josuke comes back, it’s not
with force, but with fingers lacing through his own.
“We’re in public, man,” Okuyasu mutters beneath his breath, but Josuke just
laughs and grips his hand tighter.
                                      **
He shoves the Pocky at him again later, this time with a different motive.
“C’mon, man, just one picture.”
“No way, dude,” Okuyasu refuses, blush rising on his cheeks. “That’s so
embarrassing. Plus, like, you didn’t even buy it.”
Josuke falls back into the couch with an exasperated sigh. “Yeah but I was
gonna.”
It does sound like a cute idea, though Okuyasu wouldn’t admit it out loud. It’s
embarrassing, sure, but who will see the pictures anyway? And Josuke looks so
pathetic there, lying on the couch with one arm draped over his eyes, box of
Pocky lying still in his open palm.
“Ok,” Okuyasu says, and before the word is even completely out of his mouth,
Josuke is up and grasping Okuyasu’s wrist. The camera is already in his hand
and the box of Pocky ripped open; Okuyasu shouldn’t be surprised, but he’s
always in awe at Josuke’s sheer speed.
He positions them so they’re sitting face to face, close enough that Okuyasu
can taste Josuke’s breath between them.
“Do you want the chocolate end?” Josuke asks, and Okuyasu feels his heart
flutter a little.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Because why would he pass that up?
So, Josuke pulls out a stick of Pocky and hands it, chocolate-end, to Okuyasu.
They both wrap their lips around either end of the stick, and Okuyasu feels the
blush in his cheeks spreading to his whole face and the tips of his ears.
Luckily, Josuke is quick about snapping the picture, and pulls the camera back
down only moments later. He snaps the Pocky in half with his mouth and begins
to chew his piece, Okuyasu mimicking the movement and finishing his, strawberry
flavor bursting over his tongue.
“This is hella gay, dude,” Josuke chuckles, looking at the picture. He turns it
to Okuyasu, but even with the screen as small as it is, the sight of it makes
that roiling boil start up in his gut again.
It is pretty gay, the two of them, but Okuyasu’s seen Pocky day pictures
before. Normally it’s a cute girl and her boyfriend, and they usually set
Okuyasu’s heart aflutter. This one, though, feels off. Josuke looks good, looks
like he belongs in these cute couple photos: his face is made for publication,
skin smooth and perfect, plump lips wrapped seductively around the stick.
There’s a smile just perking up the corners of his lips that lights up the
whole frame. But, on the other side, that’s where the picture gets screwed up.
Okuyasu doesn’t look nearly as comfortable as Josuke, his whole face beet red.
His scars stick out even worse when he blushes, and he just looks…
uncomfortable. If anyone saw it, it would stain Josuke’s reputation for the
rest of his life.
That girl, the one who gave Josuke the pocky, would look much better in this
photograph.
“Delete that picture,” Okuyasu demands, and there’s more force in his voice
than he means for there to be. Josuke’s eyes are wide with fear, but only for a
split second, and then his face is melting back down into that easy grin.
“Nah, man,” he replies, taking the camera back. “It’s cute.”
“I look like garbage,” Okuyasu spits, trying to get Josuke to give him the
camera, but Josuke is having none of it. He turns the camera off and shoves it
into his pocket, a place where he knows Okuyasu can’t get to it without going
past him.
“I think you look cute,” Josuke quips back.
“I don’t look cute. And –“ Okuyasu splutters, trying not to give everything
away but failing miserably. “And it just makes you look worse. It would look
great if I wasn’t in it and I just… if anyone saw it…”
“They would think it was cute.”
“Only if someone cute was in the picture with you.”
“But you’re cute.”
The banter drives Okuyasu up a wall. Why can’t Josuke see what he’s trying to
tell him? What does Josuke even seein him? He could have any girl in Morioh –
any girl in the country – yet he’s with Okuyasu, taking pictures that make him
look terrible because Okuyasulooks terrible.
“No, I’m not!” He’s standing up now, hands curled into fists, and he’s yelling.
“That girl was cute. You’re cute. But I’m not! You… you deserve someone so much
better than me… to eat that Pocky with… someone who will make those pictures
look good. But not me.”
Okuyasu doesn’t know what he expects after his outburst, but it isn’t Josuke’s
soft lips pressing against his. Maybe a quiet realization or a “You’re right,”
uttered from his mouth, but not the pliant press of their bodies together while
Josuke steals his breath away.
He keeps kissing him, even when Okuyasu lifts his fists to slam weakly into his
back, Josuke’s soft hands cupping his face and thumb stroking along his
cheekbone.
“I love you,” Josuke whispers, pulling away just enough that Okuyasu can see
his blue eyes sparkling. The guilt in his gut is still there, and it’s bubbling
up his throat, and he’s choking on it.
“You feel sorry for me,” he mutters, looking anywhere but Josuke’s eyes.
They’re too intense, too searching, too beautiful.
“Nope,” Josuke replies simply, and he presses a kiss to his cheek, just to the
side of where his thumb rests. “Those girls are cute, sure… but they’re not
you.”
 “But… why? I’m not even an attractive dude…”
Josuke shrugs this time, never letting go of Okuyasu’s face, never taking his
eyes off him. “We saved Morioh together.” He’s tracing Okuyasu’s scar with his
thumb now, moving it down to his bottom lip and scraping across it. “You’re
selfless and kind and you actually careabout stuff and… I don’t know. I just… I
just know that I love you.” Josuke looks a little worried, like he’s not
reaching Okuyasu. His hands tense on his face. “I know this sounds stupid but
like… I think I just love everything about you.”
There aren’t tears on Okuyasu’s cheeks because Josuke is kissing them away.
And, if they prick his eyes every time he looks at their Pocky day picture in
his wallet, he knows Josuke will still be there to kiss them away.
***** Gazing Into Each Other's Eyes (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Chapter Notes
     i'm getting so close to the end i'm frothing at the mouth
At this point in his life, Koichi shouldn’t be surprised: he’s been their
friend for years, and, honestly this is probably the least strange thing
they’ve done. Yet, here he was, judging a staring contest.
“Why,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you guys like this?”
“Shut up, Koichi,” slurs Okuyasu, finger pressing into his chest. Koichi pushes
it away with an exasperated sigh.
“Yeah,” joins Josuke, leering at him from the other side of the table. “Shut
up.”
It’s like being surrounded by children. At all times. And there are only two of
them.
Koichi’s a little tipsy himself, but nowhere near the level of Josuke and
Okuyasu. For some reason, whenever they go out to do karaoke, it turns into
this: a couple of drunk boyfriends getting into some bullshit competition, and
Koichi being forced into judging. He doesn’t really mind, just wonders what
choices in his life he’s made to get to this point. All he wants to do is go
home and snuggle with Yukako, yet, he’s here. Judging a staring contest.
“Ok, Koichi, are you ready?” asks Josuke, beer sloshing up the sides of the
bottle. His fingers are wrapped around the neck in a death grip, and he’s
staring at Koichi with the hardest look he can muster.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Koichi mutters, waving his hand in the air
dismissively. He takes a swig of his own beer – he’s too sober for this – and
waits for their pissing contest to start.
“Ok, Josuke, I’m ready.” Okuyasu blinks his eyes a bunch of time in a hilarious
display, setting his bottle on the table with a loud thunk.
They both look ridiculous, knees wide apart, leaning as far over the table as
they can. There’s about two feet of space in between them, and Koichi can
already see the veins starting to pop up in their necks.
“Ok,” mutters Koichi, crossing his legs and downing the rest of his beer.
“Start.”
Immediately, Josuke blinks.
“No, shit!” he shouts. “No, that doesn’t count! I wasn’t ready!”
“Oh my god, you said you were ready,” groans Koichi, covering his face with his
hands. He opens his fingers just enough to see Josuke and Okuyasu both staring
at him, cheeks pink and faces expectant. “Augh! Ok! Are you ready now?”
This time he waits for the go ahead from both parties. They’re so exhausting.
Thirty seconds pass before they say anything, and Koichi has to admit he’s
already a little impressed at their dedication. There’s not a tear drop in
either of their eyes, nor do they look at all like they’re struggling.
“Ooooh you look like you really wanna blink, Josuke,” Okuyasu teases, wiggling
his finger into Josuke’s face.
“Hey, Koichi,” Josuke mutters, never taking his eyes off of Okuyasu. “Isn’t
that cheating?”
With a sigh and an exaggerated eyeroll, “Okuyasu, get your finger out of his
face.”
He follows the rule immediately. At least when it comes to being the judge,
Okuyasu and Josuke tend to actually listen to him. Until the result isn’t in
their favor. Or really any other time, really.
Another thirty seconds pass without incident, then it’s Josuke’s turn to say
something. He takes the low road, as Koichi knew he would, and blows a kiss at
Okuyasu.
“You know,” he purrs, eyebrow quirked. “You have beautiful eyes, Okuyasu.”
He’s not falling for it, but Koichi can see blood begin to fill his cheeks.
“Nah,” he replies, eyes still unblinking. “You do.”
“Do I?” Josuke asks, blowing him another kiss. Koichi knows he would wink if he
could, but that would mean disqualification, and Josuke’s nothing if not a sore
loser.
“Yeah, man. They’re like… the ocean.”
“How poetic,” Josuke murmurs, laced with sarcasm, but Okuyasu is blushing
anyway. Not surprising, as even Koichi can hear the truth lacing his sarcasm.
There have been enough drunk conversations between the two of them that Koichi
knows; knows the inside and out of their relationship, knows that every bit of
sarcasm is laced completely with love and care and truth. It’s poetic in his
own way, and Josuke loves that about him more than anything else. Koichi is
sure he could vomit just thinking about it.
Thirty more seconds pass while they just stare at each other, fingers gripped
around their beer bottles until their knuckles are turning white. Koichi is
lazily watching them, legs crossed and beer finished in his hand, waiting for
this shit show to be over so he can go home. He loves them, but he knows where
it’s going to end up.
“Your lips are pretty, too,” Josuke whispers. It’s under his breath, low enough
that Koichi nearly misses it. He blushes a little, even if it’s all stuff he’s
heard before.
“Stop it, Josuke,” Okuyasu whines, his whole face beet red. He’s looking away
from Josuke, and it looks just about like his eyelids are going to blink, but
he catches himself at the last second. “Cheater.”
“I would never,” Josuke cries, hand on his heart. He’s got that sly grin on his
lips, eyes half lidded and tongue resting just behind his teeth. It swipes out
over his bottom lip, and Koichi swears he sees Okuyasu jump.
After another few seconds, Koichi notices that they’ve gotten closer from
across the table. Instead of the two feet apart they were earlier, now barely
any space exists between them. It happened gradually, so much that Koichi
didn’t notice, but now they’re in a completely different position. Their
postures have relaxed, turning instead from white knuckled beer holding to a
gentle press into the table: Josuke’s arms folded in front of him to give him
better reach across the table, Okuyasu leaning with his head in both of his
hands.
“I love you,” Okuyasu mutters, and now it’s Josuke that’s turning pink. His
eyes flit away, but only for a moment, and then he’s looking back into
Okuyasu’s, lips slightly parted.
“What were we doing again?” he asks, and Koichi is beside himself.
“You wanted to know who would win in a staring contest,” he interrupts through
gritted teeth. He could be at home, staring into Yukako’s eyes, but he’s here,
watching these two clowns do it instead.
“I love you, too,” Josuke mumbles with a sly grin. He moves his face closer to
Okuyasu and, letting his eyes slide closed, presses their lips together.
“Okuyasu is the winner!” Koichi exclaims, standing up from his seat, much too
excited for the event transpiring before him.
“Yeah yeah,” Okuyasu says, waving his hand dismissively. Instead of paying
Koichi any attention, he presses forward again and Eskimo kisses Josuke,
causing a giggle to slip out of his throat.
They’re one step away from fucking on the table, from the way Josuke’s fingers
are twitching, and Koichi will be damned if he stays here to watch that happen.
“If you guys are just gonna get all kissy, I’m gonna head home.” He doesn’t
mean to jump down their throats, but watching them only makes him miss Yukako
more. It makes his heart ache, and he’s ready to get on the train.
It snaps Josuke and Okuyasu out of whatever weird trance they were in. They
both immediately back away from one another, flush rising higher in their
cheeks, a mixture of alcohol, lust, and now embarrassment. The blood rushes up
their necks and the tips of Josuke’s ears, and Koichi smirks.
“Sorry, Koichi…” mutters Josuke, rubbing the back of his head. It makes Koichi
laugh once, deep in his chest, and then he’s leaving his money on the table and
gathering his things. In a moment, they’re doing the same, realization dawning
on them that whatever is happening in Okuyasu’s pants isn’tgoing to happen
here.
Koichi leaves with them, splitting off at the train station, grinning as he
watches Josuke’s hand drunkenly slide down to Okuyasu’s ass and squeeze.
Okuyasu jumps, punches Josuke in the arm, then does the same.
Koichi can’t wait to see them again next week.
***** Getting Married (Josuke/Okuyasu, Koichi/Yukako, Jotaro/Rohan) *****
Chapter Notes
     fuck it i wrote all fuckin 3 of the couples getting married all 3 OF
     THEM I NEEDED THIS
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                    Yukako
She hasn’t seen him since yesterday – that’s how it’s supposed to be. Even
though she knows that, even though everything in this wedding has been so
traditional, following every Western rule… her heart aches. It’s only been 24
hours.
That’s how she knows this is the right decision.
Cold feet never even touched her. She’s never been so sure of anything in her
life – honsestly, marrying Koichi is the only thing she’s ever truly been sure
of.
Now she’s standing here, waiting at the doorway to the aisle, where she knows
he’s waiting on the other side. 24 hours is all she’s had to wait, and her
heart is nearly beating out of her chest with excitement. Or maybe it’s
anxiety. Or both of those and many other things all at once.
Her father laces his arm through hers, gives her one last look of reassurance,
but she doesn’t need it. She’s so sure of what she’s doing, heart hammering out
of her chest. Koichi’s there on the other side, and whatever image she creates
of him in her mind isn’t enough compared to the real thing.
The door’s open and she’s sure she’s going to faint. Fortunately enough she
doesn’t, because if she had, she wouldn’t be able to see what she sees right
now.
Koichi stands at the altar, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He doesn’t see
her right away, just looks nervous and red-faced; when he does look up,
thought, Yukako’s sure she’s never seen a more beautiful sight in her life. His
entire face lights up, eyes going bright and watery, and she can see him
physically biting his lip and holding back tears. He promised her he wouldn’t
cry because then shewould cry, and he’s trying so hard it makes her heart hurt.
She cries anyway, of course, and barely restrains herself from running up the
aisle to gather him in her arms.
                                    Koichi
Koichi’s fingers are twitching as he waits behind the double doors. The entire
wedding has been traditionally planned, right down to the 24 hours in which he
can’t see his bride. His bride. Just thinking about it makes his heart hammer
in his chest, and instead of his fingers twitching, his hands are downright
shaking. The nerves, he’s sure, wouldn’t be nearly as bad if he had seen her a
few hours ago.
He hasn’t seen any part of her attire for the wedding. She’s kept it a very
closely guarded secret, instead taking Rohan with her to go dress shopping. Why
Rohan had agreed, Koichi was never sure, but he was sure that it was the right
choice. Either way, he’s sure no matter what she’s wearing she’ll look
gorgeous. She always does. Her wedding dress could be a trash bag and Koichi
would still love everything about it.
It’s not a trash bag he sees, though, when she finally pushes the door open.
She’s standing with her harm in her father’s, and the first thing he notices is
that she doesn’t have a veil over her face. On one hand he wishes she did,
because then he wouldn’t be as overwhelmed with emotion as he is now. On the
other hand, it lets him actually see her. The dress wraps around her body with
such grace that it looks like it’s a part of her body. The sweetheart neckline
accentuates her sharp collarbones, which elongate her neck, and the dress
shapes her body until her waist, where it becomes loose and flows around her
legs. It’s all white silk, shimmering in the sunlight as it pours in through
the windows. Her makeup is simple, done just so to accentuate her lips and her
eyes as usual, but with something so much purer and brighter. Koichi isn’t sure
if it’s just the way the light hits her face or if it’s done on purpose, but
she looks like she’s shining.
Koichi’s heart stops when he meets her eyes.
Damnit. He promised he wouldn’t cry.
                                     Rohan
Babies were not something everon Rohan’s mind. Yet, here he was, watching one
walk up the aisle with her little flower basket, grinning at him like he was
the best thing since sliced bread. Even worse, in just a few moments, that baby
would belong to him: he was going to be a father, and the thought absolutely
terrified him.
He didn’t want to get married in the first place. He said this multiple times
while he adjusted his tie and jacket. Each and every time, Yukako and Koichi
berated him.
“Then why did you say yes?” Koichi asked him, rolling his eyes back into his
skull.
“I wasn’t going to say ‘no,’ was I?”
No, he definitely wasn’t going to say no. Not when Jotaro had looked so
handsome in the restaurant, hair combed back and into place, ring shining
beautifully in the palm of his hand. Not when he pressed him up against the
wall and wreckedhim when they got home. He couldn’t say no to that man, whether
he wanted to or not.
But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Now, here he was, watching Jolyne walk up the aisle with her eyes all alight.
She’s scooped up by her great grandfather who snuggles her in his arms, making
her sit still as much as she doesn’t want to, Suzy holding Shizuka beside him.
They’re all grinning at Rohan once they get Jolyne settled in, and for a moment
he feels like he might burst into flame.
The Joestar smiles are sobright. Holly is crying, of course, and Suzy seems
like she’s close to it. Joseph’s grin is bright and white, Jolyne’s so
remarkably like his. Shizuka is even grinning, body clear and visible. Maybe…
maybe it wasn’t all bad.
Babies were awful, but Jolyne was... perfect. No, it wasn’t all bad.
Then, Jotaro walks through the door, eyes shining and rare grin spread across
his face. When they lock eyes, it’s like the entire world melts around him, and
he’s sure he’ll melt with it. He’s not sure whether time actually stops or not,
but it sure feels like it does.
Jotaro’s hair is combed back, his white suit is striking, and that smile lights
up the entire room.
Babies and all, Rohan is ecstatic that he’s at the altar, waiting for Jotaro
Kujo to walk up and kiss him breathless.
                                    Jotaro
“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Jotaro?” Joseph’s voice is full
of concern, understanding lacing every word. He knows what it’s like to lose
someone… and what it’s like to fall in love again.
“Yes,” he replies with finality. It doesn’t stop his heart from hammering in
his chest, no matter how many times he tells himself he’s ready. Every time he
thinks about it, violet eyes float back into his vision, red hair tickling his
face… but he’s sure. He’s so sure. He wouldn’t have planned this whole thing if
he wasn’t.
“Congratulations,” mutters Joseph through thinly veiled tears, wrapping his
arms tightly around his grandson. Jotaro wraps his arms around the old man,
feeling him shake, and then steels himself for the next few hours.
“Daddy!” In comes his daughter, absolutely bouncing. Jolyne’s dressed to the
nines, hair in cute buns and braids, white dress styled and chosen just for
her. Rohan picked it out, took her dress shopping himself, and just looking at
her he can see Rohan’s stylistic flair.
“Jolyne,” he replies, surprised by how shaky his voice is.
“You look pretty, daddy!” she exclaims with a grin. Her basket is kept
carefully in her hand – she’s taken her charge with care, protects the flower
petals like the world will end if she doesn’t. But that doesn’t stop her from
bouncing with excitement, tugging on her father’s pant leg.
“Thank you, Jolyne. So do you.”
She’s a ray of sunshine when she smiles. “I bet Rohan looks just as pretty as
you do.”
And then Jotaro is laughing, all of the shivering and shaking gone from his
body as he looks down at her shining face. “I bet he does, too.”
She leaves him only moments later when the music starts, and his heart is back
to beating triple time. He’s so sure of everything, yet, when the door opens,
the first thing he does is stop time. It’s a reflex, and at first he did it to
calm himself, but once he gets a chance to look around, he’s glad he did it.
While time is stopped, he can look at Rohan and catch his breath, because
there’s no way he could keep breathing if he had to walk down the aisle right
now. Rohan looks incredible – always looks incredible. His suit is tailored
perfectly to his body, stylish and new age, but traditional enough that he
looks like an actual groom. The gaudy earrings are still there, glinting in the
sunlight, and while time is stopped Jotaro has a chance to laugh. A full-
bodied, deep laugh all the way down in his chest. Of course he’s marrying this
flamboyant asshole.
When time resumes, Jotaro doesn’t miss the light that passes across Rohan’s
face. For a moment, he looks all at once like he might cry or laugh or scream,
and then it’s schooled into a shitty smirk.
Just like when he said yes to their first date. Just like when Jotaro presses
him into the mattress. Just like when he put the engagement ring on his finger.
Jolyne grins at him widely from Joseph’s arms, and Jotaro sees the questioning
quirk of an eyebrow. Silently, he confirms to Joseph that he’s ready, because
he is.
Red hair and violet eyes have another place in his life. But shitty smirks and
designer clothing are here and now.
                                    Josuke
As much as everyone told him that he was going to be nervous, Josuke doesn’t
feel an ounce of it. Cold feet, fidgeting, fear of the unknown; it isn’t there
for Josuke. There are many reasons, all of which he has thought through and
counted off on his fingers.
First off, he’s a man who knows what he wants. And he knows, completely and
without a doubt, that he wants this. Second, it’s just marriage. Everyone makes
a big deal out of it, but it’s just a piece of paper that proves something he
already knows. That something is the third thing: he loves Okuyasu with his
full heart, knows Okuyasu loves him because he knows him better than anyone
else. He could never be nervous, could never have cold feet, because this is
exactlywhat he wants, exactly how he wants to spend the rest of his life.
He hasn’t seen Okuyasu for the past few hours. Josuke doesn’t care about
tradition – not when they had incredible, mind-melting sex the night before –
none of that 24 hours bullshit. So, when Okuyasu busts into his room 20 minutes
before the ceremony, it’s no real thing. Except that Okuyasu is a sobbing mess.
“Josuke,” he blubbers, pounding on the door. It seems like Yukako tried
everything she could to restrain him, because he can hear her faintly shouting
in the background. She sounds far enough away, though, that Josuke opens the
door quickly and ushers his fiancée in.
“Okuyasu,” Josuke says with some surprise. “There’s no need to cry, man.”
He looks so broken when he looks up at Josuke from the couch, eyes puffy and
red, lip quivering. Okuyasu looks so pathetic, and Josuke can’t help that his
chest swells: he’s just toocute. Even when tears are staining his white tuxedo
and his hair is falling out of place.
“I know, man,” Okuyasu mutters, still struggling to speak through his choked
tears. He doesn’t say anything more, just sits on the couch and lets Josuke
hold him while he cries.
“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to,” Josuke says finally, once
Okuyasu’s sobbing has dulled itself down to a quiet shake. Immediately, Okuyasu
shoots up out of his hunched state, staring straight into Josuke’s eyes. The
skin around his eyes is still red and raw, but there’s a fire in them that
tells Josuke immediately that it’s not what he wants.
“No,” Okuyasu states with finality. “I want to do this.”
His face looks so focused and indignant, Josuke can’t help but laugh.
Yukako finally breaks down the door a few moments later, dragging Okuyasu out
with one last kiss. The ceremony starts in five minutes, and they’re nowhere
near where they need to be, and Okuyasu is a sobbing mess, and this is all
Josuke could’ve ever hoped for out of a wedding.
He readies himself, touching up his hair one last time, then makes his way out
to where the altar is.
Okuyasu is already standing there, still looking as pathetic as ever. He’s got
his bottom lip tucked into his teeth, but Josuke can see it quivering. His eyes
are focused but still puffy, tears dripping down his face and onto his tuxedo.
How did Josuke deserve such a perfect man?
He makes his way up the aisle without any real finesse, realizing he’s almost
running to get there. It’s not something he controls, just something his body
does. Like a magnet pulling them together, he’s rushing up the aisle to get as
close to Okuyasu’s skin as he can.
“No need to cry, man,” Okuyasu mutters when he reaches the altar. Jotaro,
officiating, quirks an eyebrow, but Josuke pays him no mind. He reaches up to
his cheeks and his fingertips come away wet, to his own surprise.
“Asshole,” he whispers, loud enough that Jotaro hears and, most likely, the
entire first row. His mother must be scandalized, Joseph chuckling behind his
hand, but Josuke doesn’t notice them. Instead, he curls his fists into the
lapels of Okuyasu’s tuxedo and pulls him close, capturing his lips in his own.
The band stops playing, and everyone in the crowd goes completely silent.
Josuke doesn’t register any of this, just breathes hard through his nose onto
Okuyasu’s face, tasting his tears and nervousness and love and warmth. When
they finally pull apart, Jotaro looks like he’s tasted something particularly
sour, and it brings a chuckle bubbling out of Josuke’s throat.
There isn’t an ounce of nervousness in his body when he holds Okuyasu, not when
he says his vows, not when he kisses him at the actual scripted time. This is
exactly what he wants, and Okuyasu, blubbering his way through his vows and
their kiss, is exactly who he wants to spend the rest of his life with.
Chapter End Notes
     ok so there was supposed to be a super cute Okuyasu part also, one
     that went really well with Josuke's as a companion piece, but i seem
     to have lost it. the night i wrote it was an all-nighter and i know i
     put them side by side to write and i just... must have done something
     else with it.
     so... i'm sorry everyone. no Okuyasu part. maybe i'll write it again
     one day but today is not that day
     just imagine a cute Okuyasu scene where as nervous as he seems with
     Josuke is actually as nervous as he is, and he cries a lot.
***** On One of Their Birthdays (Koichi/Rohan) *****
Chapter Summary
     Did you know that Rohan's earrings are clip-ons?
Chapter Notes
     i know i know this is a weird pairing but like... i really wanted to
     write this fic and uh i just did it as part of this because it fit.
     so like... i made it a little shippy, but it's not too overt.
     sorry if you're really into koichi/rohan, there's not a lot of it
     here
“Koichi, where on Earth are you taking me?” Rohan whines, hand limp inside of
Koichi’s. He’s been dragged along for half the city, in search of some supposed
birthday surprise. He trusts Koichi, so it’s probablyreal, but he’s still a
little worried.
“I told you,” Koichi states, firm and final. “It’s a surprise.”
Rohan’s been asking every minute for the past 20 minutes and he can tell it’s
starting to drive Koichi up a wall. Either way, he tolerates Rohan’s are-we-
there-yets, just gritting his teeth until they make it to their destination. It
is his birthday, afterall.
Finally, after a few more minutes of bitching and moaning, they wind up outside
of a parlor that says “Tattoos and Piercings” in neat script on the door.
Rohan’s confused, and it doesn’t clear anything up when Koichi stands in front
of the door and opens his arms with grandiose.
Rohan feels the panic rise in his chest before he ever voices it. His fingers
begin to twitch, and then his arms are shaking, and then before he knows it,
he’s starting to run away.
“3 Freeze!” shouts Koichi, and Rohan is landing on the ground. Hard.
He looks up when the weight lifts, and Koichi is standing over him, hands on
his hips.
“Look, Rohan,” he begins matter-of-factly. “Your clip-ons are a disgrace.”
Without knowing, his hands fly up to his ears where his precious clip-ons
dangle from each lobe.
“How dare you.”
Koichi rolls his eyes.
“If you’re going to wear earrings all the time, you’ve got to get your ears
pierced.”
A grimace spreads over Rohan’s face when he thinks about it. Pain is not
something he enjoys, nor is it something he’s even willing to tolerate. But
earrings looked so good on him, completed very outfit, and clip-ons were the
least painful way to be that fashionable. It was the perfect solution. Until,
of course, Koichi bought him a pair of beautiful – real – earrings for
Christmas.
“Koichi, no,” Rohan demands, but there’s fear lacing his voice. He tries to
sound in charge, but in reality, he knows that somehow Koichi’s going to get
him to do it.
“It doesn’t even hurt that bad.” Koichi is flippant; he’s not even looking at
Rohan now, turned around and making his way into the store, just expectingRohan
to follow him.
Rohan Kishibe does not plead. He does not beg. And he certainly does not whine.
“Koichi,” he calls after him. Not a plead. Not a beg. Not a whine.
“Rohan.”
He’s walking into the store now, and Rohan looks like an idiot, still sitting
on the ground, calling after him. Koichi waits in the doorway, watching him,
then rolls his eyes and walks back over.
“What do I have to do to get you to do this, Rohan?” he calls, hands back on
his hips. After a few moments of Rohan’s silence, Koichi huffs and heads back
over to him.
“There isn’t anything you can do,” Rohan finally replies, reaching out for a
hand to help him up. Koichi just looks at it, making no move to help. Cold.
Koichi hums in his throat, searching for something. “I’ll let you take pages
out of me.”
It does sound enticing, Rohan has to admit. “But what would the point of that
be when I can read you anytime?”
Koichi shrugs, but the gears in his mind are turning again. Finally, after a
moment of thought, he leans down into Rohan’s ear, making sure only he can hear
him. As he whispers, the blood in Rohan’s body all moves into his neck, then
into his face, and finally to the tips of his ears. He’s sure he’s red from
head to toe when Koichi pulls away with a wink.
“Ok,” Rohan concedes, no fight left. After making an offer like that, a little
pain doesn’t sound sobad.
The inside of the building actually looks clean and comfortable. It’s like a
doctor’s office with more art and half-naked bodies on the walls. There’s a
woman sitting at a glass case where a display of jewelry is held, head in her
hand and book in the other.
“Good afternoon,” greets Koichi, walking right up to her with confidence. He’s
so adult – it’s kind of cute to watch him talk to her in his school uniform,
lifted onto his toes to see over the case. “I have an appointment.”
She quirks an eyebrow. When Rohan takes a closer look, safe near the front of
the store (and escape), he sees that there’s a glinting ring on the end of her
eyebrow when she raises it. All along her ears are piercings, two in her nose,
one on her bottom lip, and one on her top that makes it look like her mouth is
sealed shut. None of them are noticeable at first, but it’s like the more Rohan
looks, the more he finds. A shiver runs up his spine.
“Are you Koichi?” she asks. Her voice is calm and pleasant, not at all what
Rohan was expecting to come out of her.
They speak with one another for a moment, Koichi pointing back at Rohan once or
twice, and then she’s making her way over to look him up and down.
“Never had a piercing, huh? Well, we’ll make sure to take good –“
Before she can finish her sentence, and before Rohan even really realizes what
he’s doing, he’s already called out Heaven’s Door and has the woman opened like
a book.
“Rohan!” exclaims Koichi.
“Sorry!” he apologizes, quietly and through his teeth. He’s not reallysorry, so
he continues to read her unbidden.
If he reads about one botched piercing… he’s leaving. There’s no way that
Koichi can make him stay in a place like this, right? What if she hurts him?
How many people has she hurt before? He’s disappointed to find out that the
answer is none. No memory of any botched piercings, though she has witnessed
some. She likes pain, likes watching others in pain, which makes Rohan grimace…
but other than that, she checks out.
“Thinks the new client Rohan is cute,” Koichi reads from behind him, and Rohan
goes red to the tips of his ears.
“Of course she does,” he mutters.
“She’s not wrong, I guess.”
Rohan finally releases his hold on her, and she comes to with a hard blink.
“What was I doing just now?” she asks, eyes wide with confusion. She’s still
trying to get her bearings, but Koichi sets her straight.
“We were just getting my friend’s ears pierced,” he replies matter-of-factly.
“I had an appointment.”
It seems to check out in her mind, and she immediately leads them to a back
room covered by only a curtain. This room is even more brightly lit, even more
sterile-looking, and it’s starting to make Rohan a little more comfortable, if
nervous. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
The studs are ones that Koichi has already picked out and paid for, simple
silver balls on the end of a very sharp looking post. They are elegant in their
simplicity, and Rohan has to admire Koichi for his gift. He won’t tell him now,
not when he’s this frustrated, but Koichi knows Rohan’s style even better than
Rohan does most of the time.
“You probably won’t feel anything,” the piercer says, and then she’s casually
brandishing a gunin her hand. She loads the studs into it, and it makes them
look all the more menacing, and all the less gift-like.
“Bullshit,” Rohan whispers, more to himself than anyone. She doesn’t seem to
hear, but Koichi sure does, sitting beside him and shaking with veiled
laughter.
“You’ll be fine,” Koichi reassures, a giggle bubbling up out of his throat. He
forces Rohan to pry up one of his hands from where it death grips the chair.
Once he gets it released, he threads his fingers through it, giving his hand a
tight squeeze of reassurance.
The piercer marks spots on his ears with permanent marker, then takes a step
back to look at him. She stares at his face but not into his eyes, making his
cheeks burn, but then she’s turning away, picking up that awful gun again.
“Now, I’m going to need you to hold absolutelystill.” It scares Rohan into a
rigid posture, afraid that if he moves… well… let’s say he doesn’t trust the
trajectory of a gun beside his head.
He sucks in a deep breath and clenches his hand tightly around Koichi’s. She
lines up the shot on his ear, and he can only imagine the burning pain that
will be radiating through it soon.
“1… 2…” Before she ever reaches 3, there’s a loud click, and Rohan’s eyes
squeeze shut.
He waits for a pinch, a poke, a burning sensation, but there’s nothing. She
must have missed… or something. There’s no pain, no anything in his earlobe.
Yet, she’s turning away, loading another stud into the gun.
“Wait,” Rohan says. “What happened?”
 “I pierced your ear,” she replies, handing him a mirror. “We have to do the
second one before you can leave, though.”
He’s incredulous, but when he looks in the mirror there’s a new glint of silver
on his ear. The pain starts to radiate only as it swells red, but it’s a pain
less than most sunburns he’s had. It was like she didn’t even do anything.
Koichi quirks an eyebrow at him, a silent “I told you so,” but Rohan only has
enough fight in him to turn away and scowl.
The next piercing in his ear goes in without pain or feeling. It begins to
swell just as quickly as the other one, puffing up red and angry around where
the stud has embedded itself in his skin, but other than that, it’s fine.
The piercer makes him sign some paperwork, then gives him a baggie and an
explanation on piercing care. He catches parts of what she says, too busy
looking at himself in the mirror. The studs are simple, but he has to admit
that they look good.They do something for his face, makes him look less
exhausted and more natural. The glint attracts light to his face, soft enough
that it doesn’t wash him out, bright enough that his skin nearly sparkles.
They’re a simple addition, but they do so muchfor him. No wonder everyone else
had their ears pierced.
“I assume,” Rohan begins as they leave the shop. He can’t stop playing with the
studs in his ears, twisting them like she said to. “You’re taking me out to
lunch, now that you’ve tortured me enough?”
He watches Koichi roll his eyes, but gets confirmation that those were his
plans. “I figured I could take you to lunch. You deserve it for being so good
in public.”
Humiliation and indignation flash red across Rohan’s face, and he crosses his
arms over his chest. He opens his mouth to argue, but Koichi shuts him up by
speaking again.
“Once we’re done with lunch, I figured we could head back to your house.
Y’know. To hangout.”
Koichi’s promise from earlier comes flooding back to him, and in milliseconds,
Rohan’s whole face is as red as his earlobes.
***** Doing Something Ridiculous (Josuke/Okuyasu) *****
Josuke never knew, and not because Okuyasu was good at hiding things, but
because it had just never come up. In fact, Okuyasu wasn’t even sure if he was
afraid of heights because he never had a reason to find out: Super Fly had seen
Mikitaka and Josuke swing from it, but never Okuyasu, and he had never had any
other reason to be above ground level really. But, where he questioned before,
he was absolutely sure now.
Okuyasu Nijimura, standing at the edge of a plane 13,000 feet in the air,
realized that he was absolutelyafraid of heights.
“Okuyasu!” shouts Josuke from beside him. He turns to find his shining blue
eyes staring deep into his, settled above a wide grin that splits his whole
face. “Okuyasu, are you ok?”
He’s decidedly not ok, but he doesn’t want to tell Josuke that. It’s enough
that he can’t even look at Josuke most of the time without blushing, he doesn’t
need something else for his boyfriend to pick on him about. “Y-yeah, dude.
Everything’s good.”
Okuyasu’s knees are shaking, and the more he stares out the window at the
ground below, the more he regrets this decision. It had been Josuke’s idea to
go skydiving – out of nowhere, he mentioned simply, “Koichi’s done it. He said
it was awesome. You wanna?” And, without another thought as to what he was
actually agreeing to, Okuyasu just shrugged and said, “Sure.”
Then Josuke brought him the tickets, drove them out to the skydiving site, and
now they were in a plane, about to jump out of it.
Yup. Okuyasu was definitely afraid of heights.
“Are you boys ready?” shouts one of their skydiving partners.
“Sure thing!” replies Josuke with a thumbs up. He looks at Okuyasu with that
sparkling grin, then reaches down to grip his hand tightly in his own. The
warmth flows through from his skin, filling him with a slight moment of
confidence.
Josuke makes eye contact with him, eyebrow quirked and grin stopping Okuyasu’s
heart for only a moment. He’s haloed by the sunlight behind him, and Okuyasu
takes the moment for all it’s worth.
“Ready!” he shouts, putting his thumb in the air.
They’re opening the door, the clouds rushing past them. Okuyasu immediately
begins to feel sick, his stomach jumping up to his throat, but then Josuke’s
hand is squeezing tighter.
His eyes are still shining, lips wet from where he’s been licking them.
“I love you,” he mouths, and even though he can’t hear him, Okuyasu knows
exactly what he said. Gripping Josuke’s hand like it’s his only life line,
Okuyasu steps out of the plane.
***** Doing Something Sweet (Rohan/Reimi) *****
Chapter Notes
     <3
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Rohan wakes up before the sun rises, taking his time in the morning. It’s the
one day of the year he refuses to work, no matter what deadlines press on his
back, and it makes his routine blissfully calm and slow. No phone, no work, no
stands.
The sun rises slowly in the trees, pouring light into his house one beam at a
time. He steps out of the shower into it, warmimg him as it does the wooden
floors. The radio clicks on when he enters the kitchen, lights flickering on at
the first sense of motion. The ritual is the same every year, no different this
time as he pulls out a pan from the cupboard, cracks two eggs in it, and goes
about setting the table: two glasses of orange juice, two steaming cups of tea,
two breakfasts.
“It will be cold today, well below freezing. Please take care when you leave
the house, all scarves and warm clothes this morning!”
Rohan sighs into his tea, flips to another page of the paper, continues eating
slowly while the plate across from him cools. When he finishes his breakfast
and downs the last dregs of his tea, he clears the table. He scrapes the food
on the other plate into the garbage disposal, then places his dishes in the
dishwasher. He would have to run it a little early this week, more space being
taken up by the extra dishes than he really had accounted for.
He has to account for cold when choosing an outfit. He only owns so many black
pieces of clothing, but after doing this for so many years, he has enough
outfits that he can piece one together. More modest than usual, he settles on
leggings lined with fleece, long sleeve shirt, and a long jacket. No crop tops,
no skirts – modest for Rohan Kishibe. And it’s a good sign that it’s got him
sweating before he leaves the house.
The streets of Morioh are busy for the holiday season, but his knowledge of the
city still gets him places faster than the out-of-town shoppers can move. He
takes the bus with the least amount of people on it, but that will still get
him to his first stop in reasonable time.
“Rohan!” calls a cheerful voice when he enters the flower shop. Immediately the
smell of holly assaults him, warm and earthy, but that’s not the kind of flower
he’s looking for today. “Wonderful to see you again.”
With just a nod of his head, there’s a smile forming on his face. The florist
has always been kind, indulging Rohan’s particular floral request in record
time, but whether that was because he was actually kind or because Rohan paid
him heftily, he wasn’t sure. Nor did he care. As long as he got his flowers, he
was fine – but on this day of the year, he would take the extra initiative and
at least flash him a smile.
The florist brings out his display from the back, and it looks just as
beautiful as it does every year. They’re pink orchids, like the softest baby
pink of sunrise, dusting on the edges and turning deeper and darker into the
center of the petals. The florist had given him a purple color one year, but
Rohan had insisted they be pink – it was her color, belonged to her, just like
the sunrise. He accepts them with grace and a hefty tip, then makes his second
bus trip of the day.
The flowers make his trip awkward, large as they are, but no one bothers him.
Black clothing and flowers are a combination people tend to recognize and
ignore, especially as common as it is during the holidays. So, he makes his
trip in peace, watching as the buildings rush past him.
He pulls the cord for the stop a block or so away from his destination.
Luckily, the wind hasn’t picked up yet, and the cold isn’t harsh enough to seep
into his clothing. Hopefully he can keep warm enough to stay all day – as long
as he can keep his fingers from freezing.
Snow dusts the graves lined up in the graveyard, beautiful and bleak all at
once. They’ve been well taken care of, none broken or fallen, all in pristine
polished condition. The shrine he heads for is no different, if not better
taken care of than the rest of the monuments.
“Rohan,” comes the voice of the keeper. He gives Rohan a warm smile. “Are you
here for Reimi?”
“It’s her birthday today, you know,” Rohan replies, moving his floral burden to
his other arm.
“I did not.”
Without another word, Rohan bows his head and excuses himself, making his way
toward the Sugimoto family shrine, snow crunching beneath his tall black boots.
He is silent when he reaches the shrine, laying the flowers on one of the
ledges. He places them carefully, so they just shine in the sunlight, then
lights the incense beside it. His knees are cold, soaked through and wet from
the snow when he kneels, holding his hands together in front of his face while
he sorts through all of his memories. Reimi smiles the color of sunrise,
blooming pink in her face and eyes and hair. He feels warmth flow through him,
and, cold as it is, he knows he will be able to stay for the whole day.
When he finishes his silent prayer, he turns to take a seat in front of the
shrine. His fingers are warm and comfortable in his thin gloves, pencil resting
carefully in his hand. Her face appears in front of him, if only for a moment,
and his pencil touches the paper.
“Happy Birthday, Reimi.”
Chapter End Notes
     the next one's the last one, kiddos, and one of my faves.
     thanks for sticking around for so long!
***** Doing Something Hot (Josuke/Okuyasu) EXPLICIT ;) *****
Chapter Summary
     Hot sweaty sex on the hottest day Morioh's seen in 15 years.
Chapter Notes
     wink wonk this is porn
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“It’s a hot one in Morioh today, as you all likely know! Today would be the day
to stick to public places with air conditioning, and pull out all of those
frozen water bottles from the freezer. Stay hydrated and stay cool, folks!” The
radio is blaring, but only because he and Okuyasu wouldn’t be able to hear it
otherwise. Every fan they own – every fan in Japan– is running at full power
right now, pushing as much air through their small apartment as possible.
“Thanks, asshole,” Okuyasu grunts, shooting a death glare at the radio. He’s
lying on the kitchen floor, the coolest tile in the apartment, covered in a
thick sheen of sweat.
“It’s not his fault,” Josuke says weakly. He’s on the floor, also, but far
enough away that he can’t feel the heat radiating off of Okuyasu’s body. The
tile isn’t cool, per se, but it isn’t carpet and it isn’t their couch and it
isn’t absorbing and returning all of his body heat back to him.
“I don’t care.” Okuyasu is whining now, sounding so near to tears that Josuke
wants to laugh. He wants to, but it takes too much energy and will make him too
much hotter than he already is.
It’s the worst heat wave that’s swept through Morioh in fifteen years, the
radio said. It wouldn’t be so bad, except that the breeze itself is hot, and
the air isn’t dry, but sticky. Josuke can feel his skin sticking to the tile
floor, where the mixture of sweat and oil from his body are seeping out and
fusing him with the granite. He’s been nearly naked all day, not even bothering
to put on pants or a shirt after his shower, forgoing even styling his hair.
He’s got it in a humiliating bun on the back of his head – the only thing that
will keep it off of his shoulders and from sticking to him. A piece of it blows
into his face from the fan, and he grimaces, picking it off gingerly with his
fingers.
“What time is it?” he asks, sort of to Okuyasu, sort of to the general void. He
does get an answer, though.
“Noonish,” Okuyasu replies.
A groan tears out of Josuke’s throat. “It’s only noon?”
“It’s only noon.”
Josuke considers throwing a tantrum, but again, the energy just isn’t there.
So, he tries to put his frustration to use.
“We need to think of something, Okuyasu,” Josuke says matter of factly.
“We could go to your mom’s,” he replies without hesitation, like it had been
waiting on his tongue, but Josuke’s mouth screws up in a grimace.
“Out of the question.”
“Ugh, but she has air conditioning.” Okuyasu is whining, but Josuke will have
none of it.
“She’ll put us to work,” Josuke explains, dissuading his friend as quickly as
possible. “Our entire day will be ruined.”
There’s a silence that pierces their conversation. Josuke is confused for a
moment, turns his head to find Okuyasu staring at him incredulously, sweat
shining on his face.
“And you’re telling me our day isn’t already ruined, Josuke?” he grunts, face
curled into a sour frown.
“Augh, just…” Josuke sighs with exasperation, throwing his arm back over his
forehead. “Think of something else.”
There isn’t anything else, really, not that doesn’t require money or a long bus
ride on a hot, stuffy bus.
“How about we take a shower?” Josuke finally suggests. He can’t believe he
didn’t think of it sooner; it’s the perfect plan. A cool shower will be
everything they need: it will cool the bathroom off, rinse their bodies of the
sweat they’ve layered on, cool their own bodies off, and even if they get hot
again, all they have to do is hop back in. It’s like having a pool, but much
cheaper and much less fun.
“I took a shower less than an hour ago.” Okuyasu’s voice is hanging on by a
thin thread, and Josuke knows he’s just as desperate as Josuke is.
“So? You’re definitely sweaty enough that you could use another one.”
He just whines in reply. But Josuke is determined to get that shower.
Summoning energy from the deepest pits of his soul, Josuke finds it in himself
to lift up off of the floor. There’s a sickening shhlickas the skin on his back
separates from the tile, and already he can feel the hot air permeating his
back, wishing for the cool floor again. Okuyasu doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem
to notice Josuke is even moving.
Until he feels the press of Josuke’s ass settling into his hips.
“J-Josuke!” Okuyasu grunts. He looks up at him with frustration and annoyance,
eyes shining with anger. “It’s too hot. Get off!”
Josuke just shakes his head, and what was supposed to be a cheap tactic to get
Okuyasu into the shower turns into a playful smirk tugging at the corners of
his lips.
“It’s too hot to do anythingwithout getting gross,” Josuke breathes on top of
him. He’s got his hands pressed down onto Okuyasu’s chest, fingers idly
twitching where they lie just outside the sensitive skin of his nipples. “And I
know you just took a shower… so why don’t we get really dirty, and thenhop in?”
Okuyasu is still indignant, trying to keep the ferocity in his eyes, but the
rest of his body tells Josuke otherwise. They’re both in their underwear, so he
knows he doesn’t mistake the twitch of Okuyasu’s cock against his ass, thin
fabric the only barrier between them. Plus, his face flushes deep red, blood
blotching all over his chest and up his neck, confirming what Josuke already
knows.
“What do you say?” Josuke asks, the smirk on his face sinful. “Do you wanna get
sweaty and sticky with me?”
Okuyasu doesn’t answer with words, but the hard grind up into Josuke’s ass is
as much of a yes as he needs.
As awesomeas this sex was going to be, they still were going to be hot and
sweaty during it, and he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.
Apparently, Okuyasu has the same idea, because he’s the one wrapping his hand
around the back of Josuke’s neck and pulling him down into a lip crushing kiss.
It’s clumsy and hard, everything that Josuke has found that Okuyasu is, a bite
of desperation in the way his teeth scrape against Josuke’s bottom lip. The
grind up into his ass isn’t half bad either.
Josuke lets his eyelids slide closed, fighting to take control of the war
raging in their mouths. He can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead,
feel it roll and drip down onto Okuyasu’s face.
The moment the droplet touches his skin, Okuyasu is pulling away sharply. “Aw
shit, no,” he grumbles, wiping it off of his cheek. It is kind of gross, but
Josuke planned on it being this bad – he wasn’t sure how Okuyasu wasn’t
expecting this. Whatever – he could compensate.
“No more kissing?” Josuke suggests, leaning back and off of his boyfriend’s
face.
“No more kissing.”
Instead, Okuyasu squeezes his hands on Josuke’s hips with bruising force and
grinds up into him again. It draws a gasp from Josuke’s throat, harsh and loud
in his own ears, even with blood rushing through them.
He can’t tear off his underwear quickly enough, but they get stuck when he
tries to slide them off, instead rolling into a twist where they’re drenched in
sweat. Josuke makes a frustrated whine in the back of his throat, cock already
pressing against the thin cloth, and decides to stand up instead. It’s much
easier to remove them this way, kicking them across the floor with a grunt of
frustration, realizing in that moment and simultaneously not caring how
absolutely gross it is.
Before he can seat himself back on his boyfriend’s lap, Okuyasu gets a
surprising burst of energy and in a moment is standing beside Josuke. Josuke
opens his mouth to tell him to get back on the floor, but then Okuyasu’s hands
are all over him, pushing him backward. His bare ass smacks the edge of the
countertop, and Josuke feels the blood rushing to his tailbone, sure to bruise.
“If we’re gonna get nasty,” Okuyasu all but growls in his throat. “We may as
well go the whole nine yards.”
With a yelp, Josuke is lifted onto the counter, sweat immediately bonding his
skin to the granite countertop. It’s disgusting and cool all at the same time,
but the heat wrapped around his cock is so much better than being cool right
now. It’s just Okuyasu’s hand, slick from sweat and the precome leaking out of
Josuke’s tip, but it’s so hotcompared to the rest of his body.
Okuyasu is attacking him from so many different directions that Josuke isn’t
sure where to focus first. His hand grips his cock tightly, twisting and
pulling in all the right places, knowing exactly what Josuke likes and what
will drive him insane. There are teeth biting into his shoulder, hot breath
moist against his skin, and then there’s his other hand, rubbing hard circles
into his hipbone. Everywhere Okuyasu’s skin touches him is on fire, sweat
making their skin stick together, but Josuke just wants more of that heat.
“Okuyasu,” Josuke breathes, fisting into the baby hairs at the base of
Okuyasu’s neck. It rips a feral growl out of Okuyasu’s throat, and Josuke feels
the blood leave his body and rush straight into his cock.
“What, Josuke?” he replies, less of a question, more of a statement. As quickly
as they wanted to get this over with, Okuyasu wasn’t going to let him off easy
– there always had to be a challenge.
“Okuyasu,” he groans, feeling the humiliation rise to color his cheeks. That’s
not important right now. Forget the challenge: he was so hot. “Please fuck me.”
He puts on a good show, biting down on his lower lip, and it seems to be enough
to get Okuyasu into motion. His hand releases Josuke’s cock, and he hisses
through his teeth at the loss of contact. Then Okuyasu is gone with just a
blink of the eye.
Faster than should be humanly possible, and with what Josuke is sure is a swipe
from The Hand, Okuyasu arrives back in the kitchen with a small bottle stuffed
into his fist. He’s not even waiting until he gets to Josuke before he opens
it, pouring a generous amount onto his palm. The look on his face – the way his
jaw goes slack and his eyes roll back into his head just a little bit – tells
Josuke that it’s probably the coolest thing in the house.
When Okuyasu’s fingers press against his entrance, half scooted off the counter
as he is, his suspicions are confirmed. The cold of the lubricant sends shivers
through his whole body, goosebumps raising on his arms and legs. It feels
incredible, like a cold drink of water on a day like today, but it’s gone so
quickly that he barely gets to appreciate it. In almost an instant it’s heated
to his body temperature, and, replacing the refreshing sensation is the hot
stretch of his ass.
“Oh, fuck,” Josuke chokes, one hand anchoring to the counter, the other moving
up to squeeze a bruise into Okuyasu’s shoulder. Okuyasu takes no time, starting
with two fingers and scissoring roughly until Josuke has to rest his head on
Okuyasu’s shoulder, unable to hold the weight of it.
He slips in a third finger without warning, and Josuke’s head shoots back up.
“Holy fuck!” he cries. It’s only a tease for what’s coming, he knows, but it’s
so hotalready. His hand on the counter slides out from under him, sweat pooling
between his skin and the stone, his other hand gripping into Okuyasu’s shoulder
harder.
Okuyasu’s breath is hot and wet when he surges forward, capturing Josuke’s lips
in his own. It’s a sloppy kiss, Okuyasu’s focus on wriggling his incredible
fingers, but all of the sticky sentiment is there.
“I thought you said no kissing,” Josuke pants into his mouth, wincing as he
removes his fingers. There’s an empty space inside of him, one that twitches
when he watches Okuyasu toss down his underwear, cock head swollen and purple
like it’s been waiting for him.
“The dirtier the better, right?”
Josuke notices he doesn’t wipe of his hand, just pours more lube onto it and
slicks up his own cock. It’s got Josuke licking his lips, tasting the salt as
the sweat pours down his face.
The burn is harsher than his fingers, but so much more incredible. Josuke can
feel the heat of Okuyasu’s whole body in his cock, lighting the very core of
his being on fire. The pain quickly subsides into only heat, harsh and burning,
as Okuyasu makes quick work of him.
His body is folded on the kitchen counter, arms wrapped around Okuyasu’s neck
as the force of his thrusts threatens to push Josuke back. Even with all the
sweat pooling around his ass, he still doesn’t slide backward, rooted in place
as he is by Okuyasu’s body.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Josuke cries, feeling the burn course through him. The hair
in his bun must be falling out, because strands begin to land on his face,
sticking there uncomfortably, but he’s too absorbed in pleasure to do anything
about it. He tastes his conditioner in his mouth when Okuyasu kisses him again,
hair caught between them, but they’re both too far to care.
Okuyasu thrusts at as many different angles as he can, Josuke trying to curl
his body to match, until they both finally find it. It sends a scream tearing
from Josuke’s throat, his vision dotted with stars. He tastes the salt on
Okuyasu’s skin when he bites down on his shoulder, muffling his scream when he
finally comes. Okuyasu is only moments behind him, coating Josukes insides in
what feels like absolute lava.
“It’s a hot one out there today.” The radio host is repeating himself. Neither
of them are sure how much time has passed, but he doesn’t make the rest of the
PSA, only complaining about how hot it is for the moment that Josuke and
Okuyasu feel their heart rates slow down. Josuke finds it in him to glance at
the oven clock, and then he’s groaning again for an entirely different reason.
“It’s only half past,” Josuke wails, letting his hand fall from the angry red
marks on Okuyasu’s shoulder. He covers his face weakly, hands disgusting and
moist, and prays for quick death.
“At least we get to take a shower now,” Okuyasu points out, finally letting his
cock slide out of Josuke’s ass. He’s still hot, even with the cum cooling on
his stomach, but now he’s just gross.
Well, at least he gets to take a shower. A cold, coldshower.
Chapter End Notes
     AFTER SO LONG AFTER SO MANY CHAPTERS I'M FINALLY FINALLY DONE. The
     first 30 day I've actually finished sweet god orz
     Thank you all so much for sticking around and reading all of my weird
     little blurbs! It really has been a pleasure, and your comments and
     kudos mean so much to me! You keep me going!
     <3 Look forward to more works after this. I've still got a lot from
     NaNoWriMo to post! :D
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