«Oh my god…What have I done?»
Yukine widened his eyes, the young teenager rubbing a hand through his short, and messy golden-blond hair. His eyes a yellow-amber, he stepped backwards from the skateboard he’d stolen from the store. An orange-yellow sunset was all around, threatening to take day’s might away. The park’s trees trembled in the wind, shops’ streets sending off the smells of grilled meat, noodle-water, sweets and mixing voices. The sounds of steps were everywhere, the breaks between them getting longer.
Wearing a white T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a green knee-length jacket with a fur-trimmed hood, the boy kept his hands in the own pockets and walked back and forth in front of the wooden bench, using his shoe to move away tine stones or to kick a coke-can down the road. Humans couldn’t see him, not really, everybody who’s focus he’d be thrown into was sure to forget him a second after parting. As if life after death hadn’t been game changing enough… All this conflict, the religions, the studies, the endless debates at universities and on the battle field… and here he was, as simple and complicated as anything or anyone could be. Though stuck to Yato, a wannabe king and beggar, more child than his Shinki... And… Yukine trembled ever so slightly and gulped. In the distance he heard vegetables being cut, a car would drive by, commercials on huge screens in all their cinema-sound and with every of the rainbow’s colors. He’d stolen it, something different than the skateboard, even more… His lips shook, too, were every so close to forming his nervousness into a smile. He bit his lip and threw the jacket onto the bench.
He gulped and felt something moving down there. Thing had been confusing ever since he’d been given form again. Yato was mysterious and frustrating for many reasons, most of which Yukine wasn’t eager to think about. One thing had stuck with him, though… Once, when sleeping at the old guy’s temple, with Yato laying on his side, his back to the boy… the dark outfit had been pushed upward a bit, showing off the loser’s naked back and the waistband… Spotting it, Yukine had blushed and widened his eyes, reaching out with a trembling hand, parting and bending his fingers without a rational thought - until Yato’s snoring broke the moment’s spell. Ashamed, confused and angry, Yukine had moved away, closed his eyes and tried to will all this away for good. And yet it stuck with him. How often had he already wandered the city’s streets with Yato? Was there a single place in Japan left where the fool hadn’t sprayed his contact ads into eternity? The wind was the boy’s enemy, lifting T-Shirts and the uniform’s jackets… Yukine’s heartbeat would become a race-car every time, making him wonder how it could exist in the first place after all? There sure were a lot of… Yukine sighed, sat down on the park-bench and reached into his pants’ pocket, pulling out a pair of plain white briefs.
Once more he’d been conquered by a blush, the underwear flipping back and forth in the evening’s soft winds. Cherry blossoms were nearby – and yet he could only look at the “Monday” imprinted on the waistband. This was all Yato’s fault! If that guy weren’t such a fool, Yukine would have never taken for so many solo-walks. Why was he so drawn to school grounds? And why did his time, ever so often, match the end of day’s classes? He might not have been a genius, though it hadn’t taken the boy long to find his way into the schools, entering in the same breath as others leaving. The end of the day was especially interesting, Yukine would walk through the halls, almost in trance, wandering the stairs, the corridors, sleeping on locker-rooms’ benches, pressing his face against such locker’s cool material… staring at and following whatever boys he felt attracted to. Attracted? In what way? Such questions hovered through his mind quite often, though he hadn’t dared to answer them so far, not even to himself. It was frightenedly usual for groups of kids or teens to gang up on a classmate – such motherfuckers had perfected their methods, too, safely avoiding attention and punishment alike. One time one of said punks had lost a pocket-knife. And, wandering the school-ground in the exact moment, ghost-boy had spotted the black, skull-covered hilt, the blade so sharp and shiny… Could anyone have blamed him for picking the damn thing up? Surely it was less morally questionable to steal from a bully? That ass didn’t deserve such a fine thing, especially if you considered what he used it for… But then, on another day… Yukine hadn’t felt so good about himself after he’d attacked an innocent boy who’d fallen asleep beneath a tree – he’d pushed the cute but weak boy against a gray wall, putting dents into the neat black uniform and pressing the blade close to the nerd’s throat. Face ever so close, nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed, Yukine had pushed the other boy, the damn well living kid, even harder, growling and demanding the boy to strip into his underpants. Grabbing his victim’s neck, he’d led him back into the building, eager to do exactly what he’d seen on tv the night prior. Nothing was wasted. Yukine remembered smacking the boy’s naked ass – the slaps’ echo being returned from the locker-room’s white walls, the flesh gaining some shade. He’d forced the dork to press both hands against the lockers, to stick his butt out and stay silent. He’d done it all; grabbing the ass cheeks, kneading them, spreading them, moving the own hips… Yukine would swirly the boy until he begged for it to stop. He’d grabbed his nipples, put wet fingers into his ears. And, eventually, he’d give the boy a wedgie, pulling briefs’ fabric against his balls and up his crack. Smelling the sweat, the fear, his own muscles tensed. The amount of reaction that mere undie-pulling could enlist! Yukine had even kissed the boy, with force, rubbing his back against the wall. Letting him go, he’d demanded the nerd to leave his underpants behind. It had only gotten worse since then, turning into obsession, until Yukine did it almost every night – soon he’d grab their junks, too, or offer them nice treatment if they’d fuck… This was wrong, it was unjustifiable and childish. Not to mention that giving so many wedgies… Before he knew it, Yukine had stripped out of his pants and put on the last victim’s briefs. What was he even doing here? He lowered his head and pressed both hands onto his face. This had to stop. Victimizing others was wrong. Getting a sex life in exchange for no swirly or wedgie… what was wrong with him? Why DID he enjoy wedgies so much? Why had his crush on Hiyori vanished so fast, only to be replaced with (more or less) every boy he’d see?
“This is wrong, so wrong,” Yukine murmured into his fingers.
Taking his hands away, he grinned and sneaked to a nearby collection of dark green bushes around a tree’s brown bark. Inside a hole, right below the tree’s roots, he’d hidden a blue gym-bag. Pulling it out, surrounded by bright green grass and sand-castles, Yukine unzipped the damn thing and moved his hands through layers and layers of underwear; stretched out – and sometimes even ripped – briefs in white, baby-blue, green, orange, gray and red. The perpetrator closed his eyes, leaned in and sniffed. The lower regions, the assholes and balls, every victim had left behind their very own and unique smell, thanks to, among other things, their sweat. Placing a hand in the “own” underwear, Yukine began rubbing his junk, his hips moving as the sniffing and moaning gained traction. He panted, his butt sticking out. Then… “Huh?”
Yukine looked up and widened his eyes. Color caught his cheeks. Was he dreaming? Had he lost his mind or fallen into wishful thinking? Good god, what was that last thing?
“Wha-?”
Yukine’s Shirt was being pulled upward, bare knuckles kissing the skin right above his ass-crack. Ghost-boy blushed, gulped and, finally, dared to look across his shoulder.
No. No. No. No!
This guy appeared to be a young man in his late teens to early twenties. Nothing ever changed: He had messy, dark black hair and light blue eyes with small, round pupils that tended to narrow when he’d get serious or angry, resembling that of a cat's. Yato could often be seen wearing a navy tracksuit with a small golden crown on the right side and a pair of brown boots. He’d wear a faded blue scarf with tears around his neck. The older’s stare was fixed on his Shinki, one eyebrow going up. Yukine, so far as he was concerned, was frozen in place. Turning his head, he stared ahead and gulped, doing all he could to stop a single emotion or thought from forming. Oh no. Oh no. This couldn’t be real. He’d become a victim to a fucking nightmare – the worst one of them all, no doubt. Yukine would have rather been paraded through the entire continent, naked and with an ass spanked red, than accept that Yato, that cute but stupid embarrassment, was holding his briefs. Well, no exactly his, but… Ghosty truly closed his eyes, so much so that pain raced across his skull. Oh god, what if Hiyori was here?
“And what, exactly, Sekki, are you up to?”
Yukine winced. Did he feel himself shrinking? How did Yato, that out of touch jokester, manage to make him feel like a naughty bitch in the principle’s office? And on such a regular basis, too! Not a hint of humor was in Yato’s voice now as the city’s buildings and crickets’ chirping surrounded them.
“Dude!”
Yukine blushed and covered his front, using both hands. Pouting, he attempted to sound authoritative and cold in his complaints, only sounding like a stupid kid in reality. The touch of Yato… Yukine was dead, for heaven’s sake! How could his skin feel anything? He shivered – but it wasn’t unpleasant. The wind moved a swing around, making it squeak. And Yukine would have hung himself on the red monkey bars, had that allowed him to escape this shitshow of an experience. Yato was cute, admittedly, if stupid and incompetent. But he was also too old and their relationship confusing as frustrating! Yukine wiped a pearl of sweat off his forehead, moving his head around, panic fastening his every act. Was Yato alone? Surely, Daikoku wouldn’t alone him to hurt the own Shinki? Kofuku, though… He growled and pushed himself free. Stumbling, Yukine grabbed a dark-red metal bench and took a deep breath. How often and how fast could one shake the own head without losing the damn thing? Narrowing his eyes, he glared towards Yato, his brain on fire as liters of sweat made his face glisten. Were his cheeks really that hot? Surely he hadn’t contracted a case of fever, right? Well, in a way, Yukine would have preferred to lose his mind rather than… this being real. Speaking of… Yato stood there, with that very strange expression on his face, the kind of look that made him look so… different. Hadn’t he known Yato for being childish, impulsive and overly simplistic? As weird as Yato could be, he was harmless – most of the time, at least. But then there were these other moments… Suddenly Yato’s face would turn into an overly smooth mask, his blue eyes arctic ocean. These were the times when he truly resembled a god, something beyond the natural order, beyond the comprehension of science and mere philosophy. It was breath-taking, the power which he could unleash in this state, worthy of a god, a force of nature. And it was terrifying. Indeed, Yato was looking that way. Right now. Even the god’s smile had turned terrifying. Lowering his gaze, the Yato he’d become raised a hand and studied its spread fingers. The older one started walking, approaching the trembling Shinki, his steps’ echo surrounding them.
“Hey, stay the fuck away from me!”
The teenager widened his eyes and walked backwards, one hand racing behind himself, searching for some kind of weapon or life-line, stupid as that could be. And he moved the other hand, too, attempting to build the shield he needed. His mind was chaos, fire everywhere, smoke stinking of sour milk and cigarettes. Every bit of focus he could have brought about was undone. How could Yato, that freak and clown, bring about such a reaction? Air tickled his legs’ bare skin. The boy shivered. Almost lost his stance when one foot landed on a green chew-toy. No! What was he doing here? Yukine had spent his entire life running, hiding, begging for a life and place to stay. No longer would he allow himself to be bullied. With that Yukine raised his chin, made his eyes thin and growled. Bending his knees and raising a pair of fists, rebellion rested on his face. This would have felt so much better hadn’t he been standing in a mere pair of underwear. Despite his attempt to be strong and independent, Yukine trembled from head to toe. He gulped several times.
“Turn around,” Yato whispered.
“Huh?”
He hadn’t actually said that, had he? Yukine stared straight into his master’s eyes, trying to will about a better reality. Still, the blue eyes glowed in the face’s shadows. Hugging a block of ice would have felt like bathing in sunshine by comparison. Yato repeated his command and went on.
“You’ve done a lot of damage, horrible stuff. It’s our job to hear and grant wishes, to aid humanity on their daily journey. If we kill, then we kill evil’s spirits – and we most certainly don’t bully or harass the living. You’ve done too much and over way too long a period. Should I get stung any more… You’ve putting us both at risk, not to mention what you might turn into…”
Grabbing Yukine’s neck, Yato pulled the boy onto the tips of his toes. Their faces couldn’t get much closer. Eyes, should they be any wider, would cover the young one’s entire face. All color had jumped from his face. Yukine did all he could to reject the memories. Memories in which he’d been in the dominant position, warm power rushing and splashing through his veins, looking very much like Yato did now. How could the tables have been turned so fast?
“And here… we… go!”
Yato’s fingers found Yukine’s hips and swung him around. Raising and holding the boy with one hand, the god’s free hand found the briefs’ waistband. The material went upward, holding slow-motion’s ice-fingers. This caused the boy to grimace. Didn’t feel any pain yet, though it was fucking weird and (almost) random. Soft and sweaty fabric kissed the realm between the boy’s legs. Soon he found himself pushed upward even more. The pressure on his junk wasn’t terrible as of yet, though every second made it worse. He gulped and sent a nervous gaze across his shoulder. Nothing he could do… Yukine made his entire appearance one giant ask for mercy. But Yato wasn’t having it – instead he pushed the boy towards the monkey bars, made him raise his arms and tied both hands with a piece of rope. Standing on spread legs, Yukine stared across the park, into the city’s angles and shadows. He closed his eyes and whimpered. Would this trembling never stop? Yato was so close, opening his mouth to a grin with sharp teeth.
“Let’s make this count, Sekki!”
He gave him a wedgie! The first, yet most certainly not the last. Yukine widened his eyes and screamed – until an orange sock got pushed into his mouth. More wedgies came, each one harder than the one before it. One of them possessed enough power to pull his feet off the ground and make him kick through the air. Enough sweat glistened on the sole of his feet to almost fall. A thin strip of fabric was in between his ass cheeks. Pain’s fire was all around him. He felt it crawl through his stomach, into his chest, bathing his brain in light and heat. Balls and dick were in an invisible fist, closing in, nails! Claws! horns! He screamed and murmured, desperate to regain any semblance of control or logic. Not a single thought was possible in his condition. Tears raced across his face. He screamed, over and over again. His damn lungs were in a horrific condition! He was helpless, heated wire lengthening his ass crack. Did he taste blood in the back of his throat? Hear the hissing and smell the smoke of the very fire which made his crack longer? He gasped and blinked, against sweat as much as in resistance towards his pain and victimhood. At least some nails must have been stuck in his ears – why else would they hurt like that? Right now the only upside was that his mouth’s sock, at the very damn least, wasn’t sweaty or dirty. “good, good…”
The hint of a smile had rented Yato’s lips. With narrowed eyes, Yato gazed arctic snow into his victim’s face. A dog barked in the distance. A car drove by around the corner, drunken party-guys screaming amidst their girlfriends’ giggling. Yukine pressed his eyes shut and murmured his own soothing. The own waistband rested below his upper back. Holding a wooden staff, Yato stared at the boy, pointing that weapon of sorts towards the kid, nudging him here and there. This caused wedgie-boy to gulp and follow the other’s movement. Stopping in front of the kid, Yato placed the stick on the own left shoulder, moving it up and down, thinking, a bit of a frown to be seen. The fuck should happen now? Yukine grimaced and shook his head. Focusing on Yato that much, he’d be sent into a trance of sorts. He groaned and started pulling at his hands’ shackles, his face getting redder while he pulled and pushed with all power he had. And yet… Yato tilted his head, never had his smile been this cruel, one black brow reaching for the stars.
“Can you feel it?”
The tormentor’s voice was a whisper. Leaning in, the god granted himself a wink.
“Do you know what I’m all about?”
Oh. Yukine leaned back his head and widened his eyes, his continued struggling making complicated signs and seals glowing up for a second, no matter how fast they vanished.
“You won’t get out of this mess, my friend? Cause isn’t this the question? Will we be friends when this is over?”
Oh, hadn’t this fucking sock been a thing, Yukine would have barked out any mean and angry thing he could have done. What he wouldn’t have done to hurt this motherfucker! Who did that guy even think he was? A loser who kept himself above water by doing dirty work, only to be forgotten soon after. A monster who kept Yukine as his slave and who’d already killed a Shinki in the past! What right did he have to torture him? If only he’d get his hands free…
“What was that?”
Yato chuckled.
“Seems like there’s a wall of sorts when it comes to our damn conversation!”
Pulling out the sock, he threw it into a gray bin. Tipping Yukine’s chin with a bent finger, Yato moved his head around, continuing his silent brainwashing, the wide blue eyes and “snakey” smile betraying a mad man. Clouds surrounded Yukine’s brain. Mouth hanging open, he slowly but surely approached drooling, upper body leaning back and arms hanging down. He was in the hug of too many blankets… movement going back and forth… Grimacing was the only knife Yukine had left to throw through mist. And Yato bent his fingers, could have easily been mistaken for leering when he looked at the boy’s front-waistband. He reached downward, found the underpants and pulled! Yukine was back in reality. He screamed so hard that bushes bent away from him, a can of soda rolling in running-resembling fashion. His most treasured parts jumped against him, set on fire and shaking. Almost would he have vomited, almost. He stumbled sideways, only for Yato to catch him with a hand, pushing victim-man back onto his feet. The frontal wedgies continued, each one filled with more power and going on longer than the ones before it. How much longer could Yukine’s balls and dick be pressed against him without popping? He gasped and smacked himself, gaining some control again and… wait, what? He was free! Yukine raised both hands, soon rubbing what wrists he had. Anger on his face, Yukine walked backwards, staring daggers into the older guy. But when he tried to pick his wedgie, the god’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Should you pick it, I’ll hang you from every fence across the city!”
Wedgie-boy winced. And he stumbled onto his butt, wincing and hissing. Yukine moved around. Got back onto his feet. Soon the boy found back to his favorite stance, bent knees and fists the only aid he’d gotten. He gulped and kept walking backwards, with Yato approaching at the same pace until the younger one’s back connected with a wooden wall full of flyers, adverts and write-in lists.
“Get onto your hands and knees and point your butt in my direction,” Yato said.
Why did the guy’s voice make Yukine shudder so much? He couldn’t let himself be played like that. He HAD TO resists and…
“Sekki!”
Yato moved the wooden staff forward, pointing, stopping so close to the boy that Yukine shrieked and jumped away. Yato’s eyes glowed blue, were rocks and armor. “This ain’t a suggestion. Obey or I’ll make you!”
He raised his chin.
“And I won’t be as nice any longer – now get going!”
The boy winced. And, yes, he sunk onto his knees and, eventually, his hands. Lowering his head, the kiddo struggled with feelings of shame, fear and… something elsewhere, elusive… A different kind of shivering went down his back. He gulped and stared at the ground, doing his best not to wince while hearing Yato’s steps. The smell of flowers came from the shop across the street. Were those roses? Yato stopped, threw the staff away and kneeled down. Yukine didn’t want to think about feeling Yato’s balls on his neck. Considering that his master had allowed his head enough space to look ahead, Yukine considering rushing that very head upward, willing to get Yato where it hurt. But… did he really want to get on this Yato’s bad side? Good god, Yukine thought and would have laughed about it, hadn’t this situation been one huge pile of shit. He sighed and broke all thoughts apart. Contemplation was useless, he admitted in final fashion, all left was to grin and bear it. Get it over with. If only Yato grabbing his underpants had been an unfamiliar experience! Pulling in softer fashion Yato contemplated how strained the boy’s underwear actually was. “Do you understand why this is happening?”
The god’s voice was almost a whisper. Looking away, this blush sent waves of heat onto Yukine’s face.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
Staring at the dented and stretched out fabric in his grip, at the leg holes, Yato found sadness’ rain rushing onto his face and waves of anger burned his chest and heart. “And why is that?”
Yukine wished he could have risked a sigh. Thought he wouldn’t have admitted it, Yato frightened the kid enough to make him resist so much as an eyeroll.
“I’m being punished…”
His stomach was warm and tickled. Saw himself in a field of bright yellow flowers; a bed beneath him and shaking in the wind, a smell like washing powder everywhere. Yukine’s “imagination” carried the same grin he found on himself as fear and nervousness exploded around his brain.
“Exactly,” Yato whispered.
He narrowed his eyes.
“So you get that you deserve that?”
Forehead pressing against the ground, Yukine murmured ever more.
“Yes.”
He tried to blink tears from his eyes. He hated this. What he wouldn’t have given for a switch up of their roles! Helpless anger caused his every bone to tremble. A tear escaped Yukine’s left eye while he looked ahead. His butt and privates trembled, realizing that Yato’s ass cheeks were right above him. He wanted to kiss and chew – wanted to stab a knife into them. Chest thin and heated, Yukine bit his lip and sucked in breath.
“Yato, I’m sorry.”
He sniffed and his voice broke. He heard a soft gasp coming from his master. A long moment passed. Until, finally, Yato stood and started walking, gesturing with a hand. “Follow me.”
Standing back up, Yukine moved and got back into his pants, used a hand’s back and cleaned his tears away. He stared at the ground a little longer, gulped and did what he'd been told. The wind’s fingers made trees sound like whisper. Had Yukine heard another dog barking? Groups of boys and girls walked by without spotting him, chatting and laughing. Standing at a little cube of a building, its walls white as the roof orange, Yato remained as icy as he’d been for a while now. Opening one of the crème-colored doors with a hand and using the other one to gesture inside, the down-on-his-luck god said:
“Get in there and kneel.”
Yukine doubted that fighting back would help by now. So he got inside, traveled across the bright-blue tile-floor and was about to kneel in front of a toilet-bowl until he heard the next words.
“Make sure you wear nothing BUT your underpants.”
Yukine winced. Then he sighed and forced himself to obey. Continuing, the ground iced his knees, traveling all the way up to his head. Looking ahead, the boy did what he could to keep his lips from trembling even more. Eyes sad, he raised trembling hands and grabbed the toilet’s white material. Already he'd lowered his head, barely. Yato’s steps sent an echo through the heigh-ceilinged room. Relatively far away, they heard water dripping. A hint of lemon-cleaner took their noses. Stopping, Yato remained at the completion of his height, opening and closing a fist. Even the wooden staff had returned – holding it in a hand, Yato placed it on his neck and waited, not uttering a single word. Yukine gulped and looked across his shoulder. Sadness and regret were a string around his throat, getting harder – and tighter, too.
“Yato,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Sniffed.
“Really.”
“So you think you’ve learned your lesson?”
Seeing his own reflection in the toilet-water, Yukine was surprised by just HOW sad and regretful he looked.
“Yes.”
Speaking again after prolonged silence, Yato grabbed the middle-string of Yukine’s underwear:
“Get your head in that toilet!”
He’d sounded a little friendlier – that was a start, at least… or had Yukine heard what he’d wanted to hear? His briefs got pulled ever so little, rubbing the top of his asshole and, somehow, tickling him. He gulped, looked at his reflection and hesitated one last time. Then he did it. Cold and shiny water splashed around Yukine, drops of it dancing from one tile to the other. He’d managed to close his eyes and mouth, miniature-teeth appeared to dig into his skin, cackling and pressing against his eyelids and lips. It wasn’t great, nothing he would have ever wanted to experience. Knowing what was happening to him, he felt a true sense of shame and confusion. And yet, overall, he was doing decent, at least – until he received another wedgie up his ass! Gasping, widening his eyes, this damn water went, well, everywhere – cold as his asshole hot. Trying to speak, Yukine gurgled more so than anything else. Water splashed everywhere and he’d barely noticed the flushing until he got thrown onto the ground, back first. Gasping, unable to open his eyes for a moment, Yukine coughed and pressed both hands onto his stomach. The echo of his panting and coughs surrounded and enveloped him. Despite being (almost) naked, he almost didn’t feel the cold floor. All that heat on his face and in his crack compensated for it, anyway.
“Get up.”
Yukine winced. He stood up. Oh, was he nervous. He gulped and begged for an end to this, using his eyes. Yato’s response came in a couple melvins. Eyes closed, Yukine gritted his teeth and clenched both fists, pressing the soles of his feet onto the tiles and tried to stay where he was, desperate to avoid slipping or any sound. Oh, but they heard the stretching underpants. The boy grunted and his knees trembled. Had his briefs cut permanent marks into his skin? He’d almost believed so and didn’t dare to check. He was finally pushed backwards and stumbled against a wall, almost slipping. And Yato was there, grabbing Yukine’s hip and swinging him around. The briefs central string got yanked up Yukine’s ass time and time again. He grunted. Whimpered. Surely Yato wouldn’t compress his dick and balls even more… right? Even with all that, his asshole couldn’t get much longer at this point. He hadn’t smelled smoke coming from there, had he? A lightsaber seemed to burn its way, making the crack longer, having it tremble upwards step for step.
“YATO!”
This was it. Yukine cried and sobbed. Holding his junk, he looked back, across his shoulder and stammered, fighting a hiccup.
“Please stop, please! It hurts so bad! I’ll never misbehave again. I’ve learned my lesson, really. It’s so painful. I… I’ll make up for it! I will!”
“Oh, you think you will?”
Yato tilted his head and frowned, rubbing his chin. Back on his knees, bent forward and holding his lower regions, Yukine sniffed and couldn’t keep the tears away anymore. His hair felt heavy and pressed onto his head. A couple of elephants could have fitted through the leg holes. If this DIDN’T classify as an anal-string…
“OUW!”
Yukine screeched when Yato gave him a purple nurple, twisting and pulling: the boy slipped and trembled backwards, rubbing his assaulted body part. His face’s cheeks felt even hotter now. He backed away. And Yato followed. Rence and repeat until a wall made out with the kiddo’s back. Grabbing the young one’s neck, Yato leaned in until their faces almost touched. Staring into the boy’s widened and scared eyes, he made the own ones thin and growled.
“You’re putting us all in danger if you allow so much negative energy to fester and consume you. I know how much you’ve suffered from that little girl’s death – do you want to be the Ayakashi who kills the next one?”
Yukine gulped and shook his head, looking both younger and shy.
“Do you?”
Yato almost screamed. Wincing, Yukine shrieked and said “no” several times.
“Then you’ll understand why this’ going to happen for a while!”
He pressed Yukine’s stomach against a wall and gave him additional wedgies. Clawing at the smooth material, the boy shouted and cried. He didn’t even hear it across the stretchy material. Fabric-Strings got strained or ripped. The waistband seemed destined to travel its long way. Oh, by now the taste of his briefs was definitely stuck on baby boy’s tongue. He panted and saw his own reflection, scared shitless, as well as… as…
“Wait, holy crap – NO!”
The realization came only one second before Yato gave him an atomic wedgie. He heard the stretching fabric once again. He groaned as the material finalized a position high up, deep inside of him, keeping him on the tip of his toes. Hearing voices from the outside, Yato grinned and considered his options. He pulled Yukine into a headlock, gave him a noogie and pulled on the briefs’ string here and there. At this rate sheer force wanted to keep Yukine’s head at an angle, his “gaze” directed at the ceiling. Knees having no choice but to press against each other below the crotch, the kido fingers were bent and shook.
