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xxlady-lunaxx · 1 year ago

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Christmas with the Uppermoons 🌲 (Chaos with the Uppermoons)

Theme: SILLYNESS

Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS OR WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE IN DECEMBER (or like happy random normal day of the week if nothing-)!!!

Anyways, here's the ships!: DouKaza, NakiDaki, KokuZan, KaiGyu (we'll pretend they're both alive at the same time), Gyokko x the christmas lights, Hantengu x ...air?? (idk I never write either of Gyokko or Hantengu LMAO.....)

Ages brought closer together for KaiGyu and NakiDaki for obv reasons

Alright, let's see if I can finish this before the day of christmas <33

Started: November 6th

Finished: (with a lot of procrastination) Dec. 24 (help)

Every year, on December 25th, the Uppermoons had a Christmas party. Which was ironic because, of all people, Muzan was the one that made them do it. Yes, Muzan.

For some reason that none of the Uppermoons knew, Muzan had taken a liking into this human, Christian (i'm not even christian but i do christmas bc yes..) holiday and.. made his demons celebrate it.

So now, like the past 500 years, they were readying for the holiday once again.

This was the one day that they never went out on missions to kill. And the one day the Demon Slayers had a break.

All of the Uppermoon's food would be stored up from a week before till now simply so they didn't need to go out and get their food on Christmas. This was, again, Muzan's idea.

Now this year was different, somehow. Different because, well, Muzan had a boyfriend. And he'd been rather keen on being a good one back, given that none of his relationships had been... successful. So, he had bought... a large amount of the most random gifts ever just to please Kokushibo (and if it wasn't obvious, Kokushibo is his boyfriend).

And Muzan was attempting to be the matchmaker for his Uppermoons because they were so fucking oblivious!! (Like he wasn't as well.. It took him so long to realize Kokushibo liked him back and he could literally read his mind).

Muzan was pissed, though. Because a certain Uppermoon was trying to be the one to make all of the decorations and that certain Uppermoon was excedingly annoying.

Gyokko, pleading, was showing Muzan a box full of vases which were supposedly his art and that he should be the one to make the decoration for the tree.

"No!!" Muzan had shouted, and quite literally kicked the box of vases across the Infinity Fortress, breaking them to pieces.

Gyokko cried for hours after that, and only because Kokushibo soothed him did Muzan stop himself from killing Upper 5.

Later, Muzan called an Uppermoon meeting and..

"Gyokko," he said.

The Uppermoon, still in tears, looked up. "What?"

"You must dress up as the grinch and then stay in the corner of the room all of Christmas and.. cry. Okay?" Muzan decided, crossing his arms.

"What?!" Gyokko cried, "why??"

"Because I hate you!"

"I..."

Daki covered her mouth, trying not to laugh, and said, her words muffled by her hand, "I can get him a costume."

"Perfect," Muzan said. "Alright, now I hope all of you have been buying things for each other—if you got anything for Gyokko give it to him the day after Christmas because the Grinch doesn't deserve anything. Okay? We have only a few days to decorate the Infinity Castle so I hope you all know what to do!!"

They all nodded simutaneously, Gyokko sniffing indignantly as he did.

"Right. Now hurry up. Kokushibo, meet me in my office in a minute." Muzan turned and left, leaving the Uppermoons to prepare—and Gyokko to suffer in silence.

(Ehm. You might know by now that I don't particularily favor Gyokko 😇)

×××

"Kokushibo. I need your help," Muzan said, his voice lowering on the word 'help.' He'd never asked for help before in his whole life—honestly.

Kokushibo cocked his head. "Do you, now? What for?" he asked curiously.

"The Uppermoons are so stupid!—Not you, of course," Muzan quickly corrected.

"Hm. Why so?" the six-eyed demon asked.

"Because Akaza like Douma but he pretends he hates Douma and Douma—the stupid motherfucker—likes Akaza but thinks it's just that Akaza smells nice so he likes to be with him more, Daki likes Nakime but is too afraid to say anything, Nakime likes Daki but had bad experiences with past relationships so doesn't want to say anything, Kaigaku likes Gyutaro and knows which Uppermoon likes which and is rather loud-mouthed and a gossip but he never can tell Gyutaro how he feels, Gyutaro likes Kaigaku but doesn't know how to do relationships, Gyokko is, for some weird reason, madly in love with art, and Hantengu is scared of everything including air," Muzan said in one breath, sighing at the end. "So you see, they're stupid. And I'm trying to get the Uppermoons together—in relationships, but not Gyokko and Hantengu for obvious reasons—and I've not been able to!!"

"Ehm.." Kokushibo stared at him for a minute, trying to process everything. Then he said, hesitantly, "I guess I could help? I'm no expert in this place but I can try.."

"Thank you!" Muzan said, relieved. "It was starting to get annoying trying to read their minds to see what they thought of my announcement and finding them only longing to be kissing some other Uppermoon. It's irritating."

"Right..."

The demon king put a hand on his desk and leaned on it, looking Kokushibo up and down. "So, why don't we go do something together now that we're by ourself? A little freedom before we have to put ourselves to dealing with the Uppermoons?" he suggested, grinning.

Kokushibo laughed. "Alright, then."

×××

And hence began the matchmaking service of Muzan Kibutsuji. Oh, and Kokushibo of course.

First patients, were Uppermoon's 2 and 3. Or, the lemon and the strawberry as Muzan and Kokushibo called them when there weren't alone.

Muzan proposed that they would first try to get Akaza to admit his feelings because... because Akaza was really stubborn. Well, so was Douma but they eventually agreed that Akaza would take a bit more convincing since Douma usually ended up agreeing pretty easily since he had no sort of handle on his own emotions.

Muzan told Nakime to teleport both of the Uppermoons to one room in which they couldn't escape, then he would care for the rest.

After that, Muzan watched the two through Nakime's eye, seeing them confused at first.

"Hi," he said unceremoniously, his voice echoing into the room they'd been teleported to.

Akaza and Douma looked up simultaneously.

"Master?" Akaza asked, confused.

Muzan nodded then realized they couldn't see him. "Ah, right. You two must confess until you both understand. And then I'll let you out," he explained.

"Oh," Akaza said. His mind raced. Could it be that Muzan knew who he loved..?

Douma stared down at the ground and his hands fidgeted. "I...I confess that once, when all my cult members went to a festival, I was tired and hungry. And I... didn't want to go look for humans to eat... so I ate a chicken."

Akaza raised an eyebrow. "You what?"

"Ate a chicken..."

The shorter of the two bit back laughter and Muzan's voice rang around them. "You idiot! That's not what I meant when I said 'confess.'"

"It wasn't?" the blond asked, confused.

"No, you dumbass," Muzan said, exasperated. Why'd he chosen this person to be in the Upper ranks again? "Akaza, you go first."

Akaza's laughed stopped almost immediately and he averted his eyes, turning away from Douma.

Completely clueless, the rainbow-eyed demon tilted his head in confusion. "Are you okay, Akaza-dono?"

"Shut up," Akaza snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at the floor.

"Akaza," Muzan said sternly, as if scolding a little child. "Tell him."

Akaza looked away and was silent for a moment before—"Fine." He turned back to Douma, his eyes narrowed. He looked very stern. Serious.

Douma swallowed, fearing the worst.

But then Akaza said, "I fucking like you."

And then the world melted away and Douma was blinking and staring up at Akaza with his eyes wide. "You do?"

"Bitch, didn't I just say that?"

"You aren't lying?" Douma asked hopefully.

"If I were lying Master would kill me!!!" Akaza snapped, getting irritated.

"I probably would," Muzan agreed.

Kokushibo, who was standing next to Muzan and being given the ability to see and hear everything that was happening, stifled a laugh. Muzan rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and shushed him before turning back to the two Uppermoons.

"Now, Douma, what do you want to say about what Akaza told you," he said, as if a parent trying to get his child to understand.

Douma thought for a moment—actually thought—and then said, "Thank you?"

Akaza sighed. "Why do I like you again?"

Muzan was having similar thoughts and, deciding that Douma was very much like a child, said, "Listen, if you don't figure it out I'm going to have you be punished!"

Douma pouted. "Okay..." He turned to Akaza. "So, do you know what I'm supposed to say?"

"You're supposed to say about how you feel of what I said," Akaza said, cringing at his own words. He didn't really want to know.

"Hmm..." The blond demon appeared to be deep in thought as he started pacing around the room. Then he stopped, quite suddenly, and said, "Akaza-dono!"

"What?" Akaza said, his tone bored now.

"I like you too!" he said decidedly, making Akaza's eyes widen.

Definitely unexpected.

"What?" he repeated, though more intrigued now.

"I like you too, Akaza-dono! You said you like me, and I like you too," Douma explained.

"Like... like-like, or just like?" Akaza asked slowly.

"Wut." Douma blinked. (I wrote duoma-)

"Like-like or friend-like?" Akaza tried.

"What's like-like?"

"Like... love? Sorta? Or, like, more than friendship?" he said, confusing himself.

"Uhm... Like-like!" Douma exclaimed, poising his hands on his hips triumphantly for figuring it out.

"Oh."

A silence quite deafening spread through the room, making Douma fidget uncomfortably.

"Is that bad?" Douma asked after another moment.

"No, no it's not," Muzan said, answering for Akaza. "Now you two can go off and fuck now I don't care. Nakime?"

The biwa demon complied, strumming her instrument and teleporting the two Uppermoons to Douma's cult room.

×××

"Two down, four to go!" Muzan said, apparently very proud of himself.

Kokushibo agreed, sitting down on the chair in front of Muzan's desk. "Now what?" he asked.

Muzan hesitated and his previous triumph seemed to simmer down. "I... don't really know."

His boyfriend laughed, making him snap his head up indignantly. "Hey!! It's not like you're giving me any ideas," he protested.

"Okay, okay, fine," Kokushibo said, sighing. "Do we have a sort of deadline?"

Muzan tapped his chin. "Christmas?"

"But that's in, like, 3 days..." he whined.

"Yeah and we only have two more 'couples' to go through," Muzan said. "We just need some plan. What do Daki and Nakime like?"

Kokushibo shrugged. "Shopping? At least Daki does. Oh! We could tell them to go shopping for the gifts and then we'll make sure they grow closer through that?" he suggested.

"Yes! We can set them up to go to one of the stores that I pretend to be human in as a worker," Muzan decided. "I'll ask them if they're dating or something."

Kokushibo nodded. "Alright. And Gyutaro and Kaigaku...?"

"Ughh, I don't know," Muzan whined. "We'll think of that tomorrow."

He stood and clapped his hands, projecting his voice to make sure Nakime would hear him now. "Nakime! You and Daki must go shop for presents now. Understood?"

Nakime, confused, said, "Yes, Master."

There was the sound of the biwa echoing around them then Kokushibo and Muzan found themselves on a street. Muzan grinned, "Alright, you go think of something for Kaigaku and Gyutaro or whatever, I'll go do my shift now."

"Fun," Kokushibo sighed, walking off.

×××

Nakime walked silently beside Daki, wondering why the hell she had to do this. Like, it wasn't completely out of the blue since Christmas was coming up, but it really was random. Especially since he'd said for her to go. Daki would be more reasonable but Nakime usually just put up the decorations.

Why this this year?

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Muzan had been trying to get Douma and Akaza together...?

She sighed, raking her hand through her hair which was pulled up in a ponytail, her eyes disguised as human ones—two human ones. Distorting but she couldn't cause confusion.

"You alright?" Daki asked, turning to her as they walked, their feet marking footprints in the snow.

"Mhm, just wondering why I have to go," Nakime grumbled.

Daki laughed. "You'll live. Or are you cold? I can hug you," she said, grinning. She was wearing clothes more appropriate for winter—Gyutaro had insisted—and she looked absolutely... adorable in them.

The biwa demon shook her head as they approached the first shop. "We can't walk like that," she remarked.

"You can carry meee!!!" Daki teased.

"How are you to help me shop then?" Nakime pointed out, stepping through the door.

"Finee..."

They looked around, finding themselves in a clothing store.

"Hmm, I should buy that grinch costume for Gyokko now," Daki said, looking around. "I'll meet you at the front, no? We can meet up when we're done so we can pay and go on, alright?"

Nakime nodded and the two split up, going each their own way.

×××

Muzan waited, drumming his fingers mindlessly on the counter. It took a while and he was starting to regret having decided to take on this job as he knew Daki took a long time to shop, but then they finally walked up to him and he stood up, making sure he kept down his aura to a less menacing one, more fragile and human-like so they wouldn't notice.

"Hello! Having a nice christmas, I suppose?" he said, his tone cheery, matching his smile.

Daki nodded and placed her things on the counter—taking up half of the space. Nakime placed her things there as well which ended up only being half of the amount Daki had gotten.

"Yep, you?" she said, fixing her ponytail.

"I'm doing alright, myself," Muzan said, picking up the first item. "Are you two dating? You seem very close," he commented, careful to not look too curious.

He looked up and gave them a tentative smile.

It took them a second to realize what he meant and they flushed simutaneously, instantly shaking their heads in denial.

"No?" Muzan asked, counting the payment. "Such a pity. Close friends, then?" he decided.

"Ehm..." Nakime mumbled, her usually pale-white palor practically glowing with pink. "I suppose."

Daki nodded her agreement quickly. "Yeah... Close friends..!" she said, pushing what she was buying closer to Muzan, urging him to continue.

"Right, right. Nice to go shopping together, hm?" he said.

"Yep!!"

"You sure you aren't dating?" Muzan pushed, laughing. "Your 'friend' here is quite pink."

"I'm just cold," Nakime said quickly—too quickly.

Daki glanced at her, almost surprised, then nodded as well. "See, I told you you should carry me!" she said.

Nakime sighed. "How would we carry this?" she asked, motioning to their things.

"Uhhhh, with you hair," Daki joked.

"Alright, here's the charge," Muzan said, jotting it down quickly. "Anything else?" he asked.

Daki shook her head. "That'll be it."

"Mhm, have a merry Christmas!!" he called out to them as they walked out the door.

Once they were out of sight, he quickly placed the money in the cash register (idk what they used if it was smth diff so we'll just do it as it's done here now<33) and called out, "Kokushibo!! Go follow them!!"

Kokushibo, at Muzan's command, followed the two girls as they walked to the next store.

They walked in silence, their hands full with their things and their thoughts elsewhere. Both appeared to be flushed and most definitely not from the cold—especially since demons aren't affected in visible ways by cold.

Kokushibo followed them until they entered the store then he paused and went back to Muzan.

"So?" the demon lord asked, his eyebrows cocked in curiousity.

"I think that you've at least sparked something other. They didn't talk or anything but they were... definitely thinking about it," Kokushibo said, smiling.

Muzan leaned over to him and gave him a quick kiss. "Good."

×××

"Okay! For Kaigaku and Gyutaro, we're going to need Daki. But since she's... developing her relationship with Nakime, we can have you talk to Kaigaku first," Muzan said, leaning back on his chair.

"Why me?" Kokushibo huffed.

"Because he sees you as a father," he said, rolling his eyes. "And you can just pretend you want to see him for training or shit, I don't care."

"...alright. What do I say? Or do?" the Uppermoon asked, confused as to where this was going.

"Just talk to him about random shit then drop big ass hints that he likes Gyutaro and that he should ask him out. Kaigaku catches on with that sort of shit really easily, don't worry." Muzan sat up. "Shouldn't be too hard."

"You say it so vaguely, though..." Kokushibo complained.

"You'll do great, Kokushibo," Muzan assured him. "Want a good luck kiss?" he teased.

"Yes."

Muzan slipped around his desk and went to kiss him but arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him onto the desk.

"Hmm, don't go too far Kokushibo," he warned, though he gave him a tender smirk.

×××

Kaigaku stood in Kokushibo's house—a small human one with a lot of curtains and boarded up windows to make it look as if an abandoned one though it was far from that inside.

"Soo, what am I doing here? Training again?" Kaigaku asked, his arms poised on his hips in a relaxed posture.

"No, just talking," Kokushibo said, sitting down on a chair he'd placed across from the one he's put down for Kaigaku—who wasn't even using it.

"Hmm, what about?" the training-to-be-an-Uppermoon-demon asked, his eyebrows perked in curiousity.

"Stuff."

"Elaborate."

"Sit down, Kaigaku," Kokushibo sighed.

He sat. (totally a sentence)

"Start the conversation, then. I've got to finish wrapping the presents," Kaigaku huffed.

"Alright. Hmm, so your place as an Uppermoon? You'll be taking as... Uppermoon six if there were to be any vacancies," Kokushibo said awkwardly, after a moment of silence. He honestly didn't know what he was supposed to say. He'd had a vague idea but then he'd gotten all caught up with Muzan and... shit, so it'd slipped his mind.

"And...?" Kaigaku prompted. "I already know that, you know-"

"Right, right. Gyutaro and Daki are Upper six at the moment," the Uppermoon said, thinking quickly. He had to bring Gyutaro into the conversation.

"Mhm?"

"Maybe you should train with them? Like, Gyutaro, say! You seem to be around him a lot recently. Have you befriended him well?" he asked, mentally approving himself.

"Oh, uh..." Kaigaku paused. "Yeah, sure. I've... befriended him, all right.

"Very well," Kokushibo said, noting the emphasis on friend.

"Why do you ask?"

"I want to make sure you have closer sight on what it's like to be an Uppermoon. You should really talk to Gyutaro more. Ask him out if you want to go and talk to him somewhere more... private?" Kokushibo suggested, a glint in his eyes proving he meant other than what he was saying.

Kaigaku, obviously realizing this, flushed. "Ask him... what?"

"Out."

"I know, I meant, uhm..." he faltered. "Nevermind. Okay."

"Great! And hopefully he can be more than just a friend, in which you two can bond together in other ways to give you more experience," the Uppermoon said. He stood, then, and said, "Have fun!" before walking off deeper into his house to wait for Muzan.

×××

And then it was Christmas.

Muzan and Kokushibo lay quietly in Muzan's room, both having wanted a bit of rest, when the door slammed open.

They jolted up. "Wha-"

"IT'S CHRISTMASSS!!!" Daki exclaimed, grinning widely. She wore a sort of onesie that was red and white with patterns of reindeers. "GET UP FUCKERS!!!"

"Daki!!" Muzan groaned. "Quiet down."

"NO CAN DO!!" she said, dashing off.

Kokushibo sighed. "We better get going then."

"Right. I'll go see if Gyokko has the costume on," Muzan said.

"Mhm." Kokushibo kissed him on the forehead and then the two demons stood and walked out of the room, noting the decorations put up all over the Infinity Fortress.

"It looks beautiful," Daki said as Muzan and Kokushibo entered the main gathering room.

Nakime smiled. "Thank you."

"I know someone else she finds beautiful," Muzan said under his breath.

"What?" the biwa demon asked, turning her gaze to him.

"Nothing. Alright, Gyokko!! Where are you?"

Daki burst into laughter then, bringing the attention of the demons to her.

"What?"

"I gave him the costume of the grinch an hour ago and he'd been complaining that it's not fit for him to wear and that it's not artistic at all so he won't come out of his pots," she explained, pointing to one of the flower-designed vases sitting in the corner of the room.

Muzan shook his head. "Gyokko, get your cowardly ass out of the stupid vase and show us the costume. If you don't, I'm going to make sure every one of your pots are destroyed and your paints and materials are thrown into an ocean."

Gyokko, obviously shocked by this threat, gasped and the sound echoed in the pot.

"Well?" the demon lord said impatiently.

"Fine..." Gyokko whined, slowly but surely going out of the pot.

There was a beat of silence as everyone stared at him, the bright green fuzzy—but somewhat soaking wet—fabric of the costume making him look worse than ever as he averted his eyes to the ground, his face flushed in a red hue contrasting against his usually pale skin.

And then—

Laughter rang out from Muzan making nearly every Uppermoon flinch in surprise.

"Nevermind, Gyokko. You already looked like shit before but that's worse. You can take it off... at midnight," Muzan decided.

Gyokko huffed. "Okay. How long till then?"

Daki grinned. "Nearly twenty four hours. It's nearing to one AM of today," she said giddly.

"...Fuck. Can I at least stay inside the pot?" he whined.

"Nope, you have to stay out in that corner of the room the whole day, remember? And cry but I suppose that's optional," Muzan said, raising an eyebrow to see if he'd contradict.

"Fine."

×××

"Nakime!" Muzan hissed.

He was right behind Nakime, watching the other Uppermoons and Kaigaku exchange presents and talk.

"Yes, Master?" she said.

"Put mistletoe over where Kaigaku and Gyutaro are in a bit, alright?" he said, his voice low in a whisper.

"Yes, Master."

"Okay, now go talk to Daki or something and stop sitting by here the whole time. You can play music later," he dismissed.

Nakime nodded. "Alright."

×××

Kaigaku was laughing as he spoke to Gyutaro when he noticed something above him. He looked up, his action being followed by a similar one by the Uppermoon he spoke to.

"Mistletoe?" he said. "Was that always there?"

"No, I don't think so," Gyutaro said.

Kaigaku paused. "Gyutaro," he said suddenly, grinning.

"Huh?"

"People put up mistletoe because you're supposed to kiss if you go under it. We're under it," he said, raising his eyebrows slowly, trying to get Gyutaro to understand.

"Wha...- OH." Gyutaro froze. "You want to..?"

"If you want to..."

"So... yes?" he said slowly.

"Do you?"

"...yes."

Kaigaku nodded and leaned forward, pushing the box he held in his lap to the side. "Yes." He closed the distance between them, their eyes fluttering shut almost instinctively.

When they pulled apart, both's cheeks were flushed and Gyutaro looked to be practically glowing, a shy smile forming on his face.

But then Daki gasped, and they turned to look at her. "What?" they asked in unison, as if the kiss had brought their words together.

"You guys... just... KISSED?!" Daki said, her voice almost in a shriek.

"Is that a bad thing..?" Gyutaro asked uncertainly.

"ARE YOU KIDDING?? IT'S THE BEST THING EVER!!" Daki squealed.

Taken aback, Gyutaro took a moment to respond as he blinked, confused, at his sister. "It is?"

"You realize the both of you have been crushing on each other for, like, months and said absolutely nothing?!" she said, rolling her eyes.

"Months..?" Kaigaku asked, his eyes widening.

"You too," she deadpanned. "You've liked him for longer, no?"

"Fuck off..." he mumbled.

Gyutaro looked torn between backing up Kaigaku or his sister and he remained silent.

Douma, noticing this, turned abruptly to Akaza—who was about to go talk to Nakime—and said, "Akaza-dono!! We both like each other too! Can we kiss??"

Akaza glared at him. "Fuck no!"

"Why??" the blond whined, pouting.

"Because you look like shit and you are shit," Akaza said, huffing and turning away.

"But... you like me!" Douma pointed out.

"My feelings have been corrupted."

"I wanna kiss you, Akaza-dono!" he said impatiently.

"Too ba-"

He was interrupted when lips pressed against his in a fleeting moment.

They stared at each other for a second, then Akaza turned red and turned away, covering his face with his hands.

Douma smiled happily. "You're pretty, Akaza-dono!"

"I hate you," Akaza mumbled, the words too weak to be true.

"I love you too!"

×××

(watch me run out of ideas so imma end it now)

"Hmm, looks like they're having fun," Kokushibo noted, smiling.

"Yeah. What about Nakime and Daki, though?" Muzan asked, sighing.

"Don't force it, they'll figure it out themselves.

"Alright."

Muzan leaned against his boyfriend's chest, their arms and legs tangled up with each others comfortably.

"Love you, Koku... Merry Christmas," he said, stealing a short kiss from the Uppermoon.

"Love you too."

{Word count: 4152}

LY ALL

HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS OR HAPPY WHATEVER!! <33

ALSO IDC I'M POSTING THIS HERE PAST CHRISTMAS I WAS TOO LAZY TO YESTERDAY

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crescentmoonrider · 4 years ago

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The world before Senjurou’s eyes was always shifty and odd, the curse of his sight constantly forcing him to doubt the reality of the people around, and every mistake on his part had him faced with the memory of Father’s disgust.

Kyoujurou saved him, took him away from Father, sacrificed his dreams for him, and Senjurou will never be good enough to pay him back.

But Mr Douma calls his sight a gift, tells him he can help people, alive and dead alike, and Senjurou... Senjurou likes the way Mr Douma smiles at him, just like he wishes Father would’ve, just like Kyoujurou does, breaking Senjurou’s heart with the guilt of being a burden each time.

And so he wants to believe.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku senjurou #kny douma #yumi's art #haunted hallway AU #eye strain #but yum this has nothing to do with a haunted hallway you might say #... yeah i accidentally made a spinoff for an AU i never posted art for #the basics of the douma-senjurou interaction is 'what if reigen but bad'#(douma is a con-artist and loan shark in this AU. unfortunately senjurou mistakes him for a good person)#office work

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lockefanfic · 4 years ago

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Business Trip: Pt 43 - Crazy

You’d been with your share of women who liked rough sex - Seulgi, Chaeyoung, occasionally Momo and Seolhyun. But those girls had always been interested in kinks that were at least somewhat consistent with their personalities. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Seulgi was into rough, occasionally painful sex; likewise, Chaeyoung’s preference for zip ties and name calling didn’t strike you as being out of character with the type of person she was outside of the bedroom.

Miyawaki Sakura was either lazy and airheaded or intense and intimidating, depending on what she was doing. Before you were made aware of this new facet of Sakura’s personality you’d only seen such duality before in Sana; but Sana’s personality swings didn’t surprise you like Sakura’s did, nor was the difference between her two poles nearly as extreme as that of the Japanese police officer.

Sakura was altogether different from those girls. She was two sides of the same constantly flipping coin, it seemed. At the moment you were finding out that this duality extended to her sexual pursuits, where she flipped between being an overly friendly, sugary sweet girl to a woman with very specific, very unique kinks on a minute-by-minute basis.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” she states, the tone in her voice sounding much more pleasant than earlier in the day, especially as it echoed against the cold shower tiles. “I was in the middle of re-reading the Fate series. Did you know the third movie is coming out this summer? I’m sooo looking forward to it. Are you familiar with the Fate series?”

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“She’s going away for awhile, don’t you worry.”

“She better be,” you answer. “I just hope she leads us to the other three members of Blackpink before they lock her up - or that Canadian officer takes her overseas. Did you have a chat with Officer Miyawaki about this?”

“I’ve told her we want time with Rose before she’s extradited and Officer Miyawaki has promised to raise the issue with her superiors, but she hasn’t quite gotten around to it yet,” Nayeon answers.

You both peer into the interrogation room through the one-way glass. On one side of the table sits Rose, her head in her hands. In her prisoner’s jumpsuit and messy hair, she looked outright miserable - a far cry from the dolled up look she sported at the event two days prior. Gone is the haughty, arrogant air that she wore about her like perfume - now she looked small, afraid, almost as if the cold reality of what was about to happen to her had just recently set in.

She hadn’t said a word since she stepped into the room. The young, nervous looking YG-appointed lawyer seated next to her rebuffed all of the questions directed to her client by telling her that she didn’t have to answer anything, as was her right. Rose’s body language, though, told you all you needed to know about her state of mind.

On the other side of the table are Jihyo and Somi Douma, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer who had arrested Rose at the event. Both of them are placing piece after piece of evidence onto the table in an attempt to get something out of the Blackpink member - to no avail so far, thanks to her lawyer. The looks of frustration on the two young officers has been steadily building, but it is tempered somewhat by the fact that much of the evidence was simply indisputable. Rose’s silence today would do nothing to keep her from spending a lot of time behind bars when the time came.

The other two occupants of the room, sitting in a smaller table by the exit, are Mina and Officer Miyawaki. The former is diligently jotting down notes from the meeting into an iPad, the latter seemingly engaged in something important on her phone - but given her known predisposition for playing video games on the job and the fact that her phone was horizontal, you decided she was likely playing a game.

“Sakura was super intense at the event,” Nayeon says, as if reading your thoughts regarding the young Japanese police officer. “When she showed up with Jihyo and Somi to arrest Rose, she had her game face on. It was almost scary. She wanted to see layouts of the building, possible exits and escape routes, dossiers on who might be there and who they might be with. She looked ready to take down every bad guy in the entire restaurant, all on her own.”

“I saw,” you agree. “She walked in there like she owned the place. Rose’s bodyguard tried to stop her, but whatever she said to him made him look like a whipped dog afterward. She destroyed that guy.”

“And now here she is at a major interrogation involving multiple international parties and she’s on her phone playing Among Us,” Nayeon scoffs. “It’s like she has an on and off switch when it comes to her job. I don’t get it. To be honest, I find it a little odd that the precinct would bury someone with her on-site skills in the record keeping department and not out in the field walking a beat.”

You take a moment to consider Nayeon’s point. She was right; surely the Tokyo PD could make better use of Sakura by constantly keeping her in the field, where she clearly excelled, instead of the records department where she was buried under paperwork she had little interest in. There had to be a reason behind it all, but you currently had more pressing issues on your mind than the Japanese liaison officer’s career prospects.

“We need to make sure she gets us that time with Rose. Preferably without her lawyer present.”

“That would be against the rules,” Nayeon says, hesitantly. She knew what you were implying and while she knew you weren’t going to hurt Rose or do anything stupid, she felt she had to tell you anyway out of obligation.

“There’s nothing illegal about me having a chat with a lovely young Australian woman I met at an event a few nights ago,” you reply with a sly smile.

Nayeon smirks, but understands your implication. “I’ll remind Officer Miyawaki,” she says.

In the room, Sakura lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes back into her head - her spaceman was likely just bitten in half by an impostor. Next to her, Mina frowns and shakes her head, a look of plain disapproval on her face.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say. “I’ll remind her myself.”

---

It didn’t take long to find Sakura later that day. She was absent from her desk, but a nearby colleague told you she was on her lunch hour - even though at that point it was nearly three in the afternoon. While your time with Nayeon and Jihyo had informed you that law enforcement officers saw lunch breaks as a rare luxury, you also knew that Sakura didn’t conform to the usual expectations of this particular line of work. With your limited Japanese and a healthy amount of hand gestures, you were able to ascertain from her colleague that she usually took her lunch breaks on the roof of the building.

The precinct proved to be a little bit of a maze, but you eventually found your way to the roof, which, like many buildings in Asia, was open to access and was often used as a kind of recreational space for the building’s inhabitants. After your time inside the cramped interior of the building you were happy to be outside again, enjoying the fresh air and the sunny, crisp winter afternoon.

Sitting on a bench in one of the corners of the space was Sakura, legs crossed, her nose buried in what looked like a manga. The small pile of convenience store sandwich containers and empty candy wrappers that occupied the rest of the bench confirmed that she was indeed on her lunch break. The volume of the trash, however, implied she’d been there awhile, leading you to wonder just how long her lunch “hours” usually lasted.

“Officer Miyawaki,” you say as you approach her, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if-”

You are stopped mid-sentence by a raised finger. Without taking her attention from the manga, Sakura reaches for a half-full bottle of Pocari Sweat next to her on the bench, which she brings to her mouth to take a sip. Eyes working quickly, she finishes the page she was reading before turning the page and devouring that one as well. With brows furrowed and eyes narrowed with concentration, there is a clear look of complete and utter intensity on her face that you’d seen only once before - when she was confronting Rose’s bodyguard and putting him in his place.

When you’d first been introduced to Miyawaki Sakura you’d wondered just how she had managed to keep her job given her obvious laziness and what seemed to be an utter lack of interest in her duties - or even in maintaining the false appearance of an interest. But her role in the events of two nights prior, and the seriousness with which she carried herself while on-site, answered that question for you. It became clear that her superiors kept her around because when the chips were down and the game was on, she could put on a game face that almost scared you with its intensity. When that happened, she was almost a different person entirely.

The question then became why her superiors had assigned her to the record keeping department. Was it a demotion? Did they think she was too unstable or unreliable for field work? There had to be a reason.

She goes on for three more pages, consuming the art and text within the manga like they were some sort of life-giving energy source that she could not go a moment more without. You are left to stand there, awkwardly, a little taken aback by the speed and ease at which she had silenced you - but unconsciously, a little afraid of what might happen if you’d insisted on interrupting her reading.

Finally, after reaching what seemed to be a chapter’s conclusion or some other boundary within the manga, she retrieves a bookmark from her bench and marks her place before finally acknowledging your presence.

“Yes?” she says, a look of undisguised annoyance on her otherwise soft, adorable features.

“I, well, I was… um, hoping we could have a quick moment of your time, Officer Miyawaki,” you answer, suddenly unsure of your words, your tongue having turned into stone in your mouth. You’d expected a fast and easy chat - you usually had no problems charming your share of pretty young women - but your resolve had faltered unexpectedly under the piercing gaze of the young officer.

“About?” she asks, plainly, even though you knew what you wanted to talk about must have been obvious to her. What else could it have been, if not Rose? Did she just want to hear you ask for something? Did she want to hear you beg and grovel?

“About the girl, uh, the woman that Officer Dou- I mean, you, you placed in your custody a couple of nights ago,” you answer.

“Yes, and, what about her?”

“I was hoping I could have a chat- er, maybe, some time, with her. Alone, before she, they, she’s, well... taken away.”

“And what would you want to speak to her about?”

“Well, you see, um…. we’re kind of after her colleagues - three of them. They’re in this team, er, corporate espionage group - they’re called Blackpink. I, well, me, my team and I, we were hoping she could lead us to the other three.”

Sakura takes a moment to weigh your request, her large, deep eyes boring into yours. You were a little ashamed to admit you were faltering a little bit under the intensity of her gaze. While you were sure her current demeanor was borne from you so rudely interrupting her reading and not from any malicious intent, it did little to keep you from withering under her look.

Eventually Sakura’s eyes leave you, and you find yourself releasing an inward sigh of relief to be free of her gaze.

“I can arrange something,” she says as she opens her manga again. “But it will cost you. Helping you and that foreign officer during that arrest resulted in a lot of extra paperwork for me.”

You are about to say something about her job and the amount of work she actually had to do, especially given the fact that she was in the middle of what seemed to be a three hour lunch break, but an unconscious fear of being put under her gaze once more meant that your response died in your throat.

“What exactly… can I do f-for you, Officer Miyawaki?”

“Sakura is fine,” she says under her breath as she finds her place in her manga. “Meet me in the precinct showers in two hours. Cancel any appointments you may have this afternoon.”

You are left a little stunned by her demand, and what it might have meant. The possibilities run through your mind at a million miles an hour; what did she mean-

“You can leave,” Sakura states, and not wanting to risk her ire by lingering any longer, you quickly turn and leave.

---

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“Ah, that’s good!” Sakura exclaims, “I’m such a big fan. I totally ship Shirou and Saber, although I’m also a fan of Shirou and Sakura - I bet you can guess why! I like both couples, though; it really depends on what mood I’m in! Sometimes I- whoops, is that too tight for you?”

It was. The girl knew how to tie a neat, tight knot (which itself raised several questions) and the thick nylon rope dug painfully into your wrists as she tied them behind your back, but you gave your head a shake nonetheless. The black cloth blindfold she’d tied around your head was similarly a little too tight for comfort and was beginning to give you a headache - not that you were willing, or even able, to tell Sakura as such.

Even if you could speak, you weren’t sure you would stop her from proceeding. You were equal parts terrified and aroused by the sharp, unexpected turn of events this afternoon had taken, but the thought of stopping the young woman hadn’t yet occurred to you.

“Good, I don’t want to hurt you. Anyway, yeah, I’m sorry if I came off rude this afternoon. I just don’t like to be interrupted during my lunch hour. That’s when I get all my reading done! Because the rest of the day I’m so busy with work, you see. Anyway… you’re all set!”

You obviously couldn’t see her through the blindfold, but the loud click-clack of Sakura’s high-heeled shoes against the shower tiles tell you she has stepped in front of you. The next few moments of silence provide no audible clue to tell you what she is doing, but you knew she was likely giving you a good long look from head to toe, as if enjoying the sight of you sitting on a stool, gagged, bound, and blindfolded.

“It’s time to begin, I think. Are you ready?”

Her tone reminded you a little bit of any of a hundred anime voice actors, particularly those that voiced the sugary sweet and cute characters. And Sakura was nothing if not cute, although she also seemed to have a bit of a crazy side to her - a side it seemed you were about to get to know intimately, whether you were ready for it or not.

You nod, because there wasn’t much else you could do.

“Good! Let’s start!” she says, sounding a bit like an announcer for a game that involved Italian plumbers and dragon/turtle hybrids racing go-karts - and not like she was about to engage in a sexual act with very particular, very specific kinks.

So when she straddles you on the stool, her long, thin legs suddenly on either side of your waist and her small frame atop your lap, you were a little unsure about how to react to the juxtaposition between her tone and her actions. With other women you would have enjoyed the weight of her body on top of yours and the promise of impending pleasure. But with Sakura you were a little hesitant - and as much as you hated to admit it, almost a little afraid.

“So as I mentioned earlier, I’d be happy to set up a meeting with you and that Australian chick,” she says, her voice dripping with sugar even as you feel her trace random patterns with her fingertip on your jawline and chin. “But I’ll need to get something out of it.”

You are unable to manage anything more than a muffled groan, and so you settle for nodding your head once more.

“Good.”

Sakura’s hand drifts lower, her fingertip never breaking contact with you as it drifts down your neck and chest, eventually reaching the buckle of the jeans you wore. Her fingers work quickly, and before you know it she has your button undone and the zipper lowered, your quickly hardening shaft aching for its impending release from its cotton prison.

“Oh! You are quite eager for us to begin, I see.”

You nod.

“Well then, let’s see what you’re hiding under here.”

Sakura’s tone continues to be that of a cute, sweet girl. Her actions, as she frees your nearly fully hardened shaft from your boxers, are altogether the opposite.

You feel the breath leave your lungs in a rush as she grasps your cock in her small, dainty little hands for the first time and gives it a few small, exploratory pumps. It would have been utterly arousing at any other time. But now, wrists bound behind you and with your eyes and mouth rendered useless, it almost felt like your sense of touch was heightened - and it felt utterly sublime. It wasn’t long before you the Japanese police officer had brought you to full, aching stiffness.

“I see now why your team is full of those women,” she observes, a slight hint of edge appearing in her tone. “I bet they love taking turns being filled with this.”

“Mmmghmm,” you answer.

“What’s that? You fuck them on a daily basis? I bet you pump their thirsty mouths and wet little pussies just full of your cum on the regular, don’t you? Maybe those tight little asses too?”

“Yughhhm.”

“I bet they love it, too, don’t they? I bet you have them all bent to your will like the obedient, needy little fucktoys that they are. Is that right?”

“Mmmahghg.”

“I knew it. I knew all of those girls were filthy little sluts the second I saw them.”

To hear such filth come out of Sakura’s mouth - out of a girl whom you’d pegged as being adorable and cute if a little airheaded and lazy - was more than a little bewildering. Each of her words dripped with sweet sugar tone even if the actual content of her words was dirty and nasty. Two sides of the same coin. Two faces of the same girl.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to play a game. Do you want to play a game?”

For a second you are frozen as a shiver of fear crawls up your spine - you’d seen enough horror movies to know that nothing good ever followed that question. But you had to admit that it both frightened and aroused you. Part of you wanted to submit to her every whim, and part of you suddenly wanted to run away as quickly as you could.

You nod.

“Good! I’m happy. Let’s lay down the rules. Hmmm… well, there’s actually only two! Are you ready for them? Are you paying attention?”

It was a little difficult to do so, truth be told. She hadn’t stopped pumping your cock, at an almost lazy pace, with her slender, soft hands. She had begun to squeeze on the downstroke and loosen on the upstroke, causing a delicious little jolt of pleasure to shoot right to your brain every few seconds.

You nod.

“Okay! Rule number one - every time you make me cum, I remove one item of your choice: your blindfold, your gag, or the ties at your wrists. How much time I give you with the Australian girl depends on how good you fuck, I guess! I’ll make the judgement at the end. Rule number two - you don’t get to say anything aside from a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Pretty simple, huh? You understand the rules, right?”

Despite laying down the ground rules for what would likely be a filthy sexual act, Sakura sounds a bit like a voice actor reading the script to the tutorial level of a Mario Party game. The prospect of regaining your ability to see, touch and taste her was appealing, and with the ball gag filling your mouth you couldn’t exactly voice any objections to her rules even if you had any.

You nod.

“Good! Then let’s begin!”

Without giving you much time to ready yourself, Sakura presses her body forward on your lap - and almost immediately you feel the wet heat of her pussy pressed against the base of your shaft.

Before she put the blindfold on you, the police officer had been wearing a short blue skirt and black heels along with the blue blouse that formed her uniform. Had she removed her panties somewhere along the way? Was she ever wearing panties at all?

Your brain had little time or bandwidth to answer those questions - not as Miyawaki Sakura began to grind herself against the underside of your cock, her hips swirling up and down, finding and trapping your shaft between the splayed lips of her pussy and moving, slowly at first, up and down its length. She is absolutely dripping. Her flesh is hot and warm against your cock. Were your mouth not gagged, you would have let out a long, wordless moan - but it escapes your throat as a wet, guttural sound instead.

Sakura, her own mouth unbound, lets the first outward sign of her arousal escape her lips in a long, drawn-out gasp. The entire process - binding you, teasing you, explaining her rules to you - must have turned her on immensely. The slick, warm juices that coated your cock in a thick, glistening layer with each grind of her hips were clear indication of how turned on she was. You found yourself impressed that she was able to hide her need for so long behind her sickly sweet tone.

“Mmmm, that feels so good!” she gasps. “Mmm, you’re so big, and you’re not even inside me yet!”

You nod.

And so for a few delicious minutes you are content to let the small Japanese girl grind herself harder and harder against your cock, her slick, hot pussy pressed against the underside of your shaft, sliding up and down, up and down, up and down. The small shower room reverberates with the soft squeaking of your stool on the tiles, and the soft, pleasant moans of pleasure that leave Sakura’s throat.

“Mmm, fuck, I’m gonna cum already, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so quickly, mmmmm, your cock is so hard! Do you like the feel of my pussy? The feel of my clit on your cock? Hmmm? Do you want to be inside me?”

You nod.

You are surprised by how quickly she was coming to her first orgasm, even if the heat emanating from her splayed pussy lips as she grinds them against you, combined with the sheer amount of the juices that were now running down your balls, clearly indicated how needy and wanton she was even before she first touched you.

“D-Do you want me… oh, fuck… do you want me to-to cum all over your hard cock?”

You nod.

Sakura’s response is to orgasm.

You’d been with plenty of women before, witnessed the many forms of the female orgasm and the differences in the bodies of each woman when she finally reaches her peak. Each was unique. But even given that fact, you knew that no other woman on Earth orgasmed like Miyawaki Sakura did.

She felt a little bit like she was being jolted with electricity - every fibre of her being quivered and shook like she had a thousand volts coursing through her veins. It was almost unnerving, in a way, and from the way her small body trembled atop yours you were worried that she had hurt herself somehow.

Even the way she orgasmed was far from the norm. The more you knew about Miyawaki Sakura, the more and more you were frightened of her.

But the same things that frightened you also aroused you.

It seems to last forever, her orgasm. When her body finally winds down, the loud breaths that leave her throat and the fact that she has slumped forward onto your chest imply that she is somewhat drained by the experience.

“That was pretty good!” Sakura exclaims once she has regained her energy, sounding once more like she were some sort of video game announcer. “As per the rules of our game, you get to remove one item. What would you like it to be?”

Your options run though your head, each with their own merits. You would’ve loved to finally lay your hands on the young woman, and the thought of watching her cum obviously appealed to you, but the opportunity to taste her won out.

“Mowwffth,” you manage to mumble.

“Your mouth? You want to get rid of the gag? Are you sure?” Sakura asks, sounding the way a video game does when you decide to overwrite a game save and it wants you to be sure of your decision.

You nod.

“Okay! Away it goes!”

Sakura reaches behind your head and you feel the ball gag loosen before she rips it none-too-gently from your mouth. A drip of saliva spills from your mouth - one that Sakura is quick to lick off your chin with her tongue.

Her tongue, feeling long and particularly flexible, traces a path up your chin until it finds your lips. She crushes your lips with hers in a torrid, passionate kiss that had little affection but plenty of need, her hands quickly reaching behind your blindfolded head and pressing your head against hers as she sticks her tongue as far into your mouth as she could. Your tongue wrestles with hers, but she quickly gains the upper hand, and it is all you can do to sit there and submit to letting the young woman explore your mouth at her whim.

When she finally tears her lips from yours she lets out a satisfied sigh.

“Mmmm, that was a good choice. You’re a good kisser! And it will definitely help you when it comes to the next way you’re going to make me cum. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you say, finally happy to be able to speak.

“Good. Get ready!”

Sakura climbs off your lap, and you lament the loss of her warm body for a split second - until you hear the snap of her foot meeting the stool you were sitting on, followed by a sharp thud of your butt hitting the floor as she kicks the stool out from under you.

You are about to groan in pain at your hard, unexpected landing, about to protest at the way she was treating you - when you hear Sakura step over your body, her crotch just inches from your face. She must have been lifting her skirt to get it out of the way, because when she presses herself against you, you find yourself face to face with her pussy.

There was no doubt in your mind now. Miyawaki Sakura was crazy.

But you weren’t in a position to complain, not with the girl’s juicy, slick, hot pussy suddenly and fiercely pressed against your face, her splayed lips immediately smearing your nose, lips and chin with her juices. By instinct your tongue darts out, almost like a defensive measure. You begin to lick her slowly, hesitantly, still caught a little wrong footed by her ridiculous aggressiveness - but Sakura was having none of that, and she quickly grasps the back of your scalp with one hand and presses it against her warm, wet folds.

“You can do better than that,” she says, her tone still that of the video game announcer, as though she were encouraging a kart racer who had fallen behind. “Eat my pussy like the hungry little fucktoy you are.”

You follow her orders, as much out of fear of upsetting her as the need to finally have your fill of the needy young woman’s body. You start by giving her long, slow licks from the bottom of her pussy to the top, ensuring to add a little swirl of the tip of your tongue around her engorged clit as you reach it. Sakura moans in pleasure as you drink of her, enjoying the pleasant, sweet bitterness of the girl’s plentiful juices on your tongue.

When you decide that the steadily rising volume of her moans and gasps, enhanced by the echoing off the shower room’s tiled walls, has reached a high point, you quickly switch up your technique, latching your lips as best you could around her clit before swiping at it in broad, strong strokes with your tongue. You begin with strokes that begin and the bottom and end at the top. When she begins to quiver and shake, you begin to trace random patterns around her taut little bud.

“You’re doing so great!” Sakura moans, “I’ve never felt anything like that!”

You are almost annoyed now with her tone of voice - not that you were in a position to complain, not while her wet, slick lips were sweet upon your tongue and lips. You continue to swipe at her clit with your tongue, using the flat of it now to ensure maximum contact with the taut bud. Sakura begins to grind her hips against you, almost crushing her pussy against your face in an effort to draw every ounce of pleasure from your tongue as she could.

What a sight it would have been for anyone walking into the precinct showers at that moment. A man sitting on the floor, blindfolded and with hands bound behind his back, while Miyawaki Sakura stood over him, one hand pulling her skirt up and another gripping the back of his skull, pressing his helpless face against the wet, slick lips of her pussy.

Sakura grinds her face against you. You almost struggle to breathe - every time you come up for air, she presses you against the hot, slick flesh of her pussy with the hand grasping the back of your scalp. It was frightening. It was almost too much to handle. But it was also intensely, perversely arousing.

“Ah, stop, I need you inside me right now,” she snaps - the first time she’d broken her tone and shown the slightest hint of losing her composure. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck yes, Sakura. I want-”

Sakura silences you with a raised finger to your lips, just as she did earlier that afternoon on the rooftop.

“Just a yes or no, remember?”

“Y...yes,” you answer, suitably chastised.

“Good. Now sit there and be a good little cock for me to fuck.”

Sakura drops to her knees, straddling you once more. With your hands still bound behind your back you are unable to lie back fully, and so you settle into a sitting position as she sits on your lap. You would’ve given anything to get your hands on her hips, particularly as she adjusted herself for penetration - but you had to admit, not being able to see her or touch her beyond what she allowed your mouth and hips to do only heightened the intensity of your other senses.

She wastes no time. You felt her slim fingers on your cock for a moment, aligning your tip with her entrance, before she drops her hips and takes you inside her for the first time.

You both sigh out loud - loud, breathy sounds that echo off the tile surrounding you. Sakura gasps as you fill her completely, your crotches finally meeting as she fills herself with your stiff shaft for the first time. For a second you regret your choice to free your mouth and wish you’d freed your arms instead, as it would have allowed you to lie on your back and thus let Sakura penetrate herself more deeply - not that you were actually upset at being finally inside the needy, mewling young police officer.

“Oh my,” Sakura sighs, “you’re so fucking big inside me! Now I see, ohh! I see why those other girls keep you around! But now it’s my turn. My turn to use you as a fucktoy. Do you like being a fucktoy for me? Do you like being nothing more than a toy cock for me to fuck myself with?”

You want to argue with her, put her in her place, spit the same vulgarities and names right back at her. But there is a sharp, edgy undertone to Miyawaki Sakura, a kind of fierceness that made you fear what would happen if you did.

You decide to let her have her way - for now at least.

“Yes.”

“Good! Then get ready!”

Any misgivings you may have had about Sakura, about her double-sided personality, about her lack of professionalism when off-site and intimidating intensity when actually in the field, even about the way she spoke so casually and vulgarly about your relationship with your team - they all flew right out the window as she began to ride you. Every muscle in her small, lean body seemed devoted to driving your stiff shaft in and out of her body, each of her movements propelling her up and down as fast and hard as she was able.

For all her faults and almost frightening instability, Miyawaki Sakura knew how to ride a cock.

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of build up to the way Sakura rode you. It was all you could do to grit your teeth and attempt to stay upright as her tight, lithe body rocked up and down, threatening to tip you over and onto your back, which, given your bound hands, would have been quite uncomfortable. Thankfully Sakura quickly grips onto your shoulders, helping keep you upright as she used them for more leverage, driving you in and out of the hot, wet flesh between her legs again and again.

“Oh, oh fuck, you’re so fucking big!” Sakura moans, seemingly barely able to turn her thoughts into words before she abandons the thought of speaking altogether, relying instead on a wordless string of gasps and sighs to articulate the pleasure coursing through her veins.

You grit your teeth, relishing the feel of her tight heat wrapped around your cock as she continued to ride you with fierce abandon on the shower floor. Eager to do something more than merely hold on, you lean forward, searching for and then finding her upper chest, pressing your lips against the small patch of exposed skin at the top of her blouse.

Sakura catches on to what you were doing, and the next thing you hear is the sound of buttons ripping from fabric as she quite literally tears the blouse open.

Were any other girl to rip open a button up shirt to give you access to her chest, you would have been surprised with her recklessness - but with Sakura it was simply par for the course.

Your hungry lips press themselves against the newly revealed skin of her upper chest, greedly pressing against her pale, vanilla skin, licking and kissing and tasting. Soon you find her neck, latching onto the warmth you find there, sucking hard enough to bruise her and leave marks on her otherwise perfect skin. Sakura hugs you tightly against her body, not lowering her pace at all, still riding you fiercely, her hips not ceasing for a moment in their desire to fill herself over and over again with stiff, hard cock.

The minutes pass as the tiny little police officer fucks herself on your stiff cock, the small shower space filled with your wordless moans and the wet slap of flesh hitting flesh.

The entire experience was torrid, fierce, intense. Sakura was so unpredictable, so unreadable - and that was even not counting the fact that you were blindfolded or had your hands bound. Her personality seemed to flip from moment to moment, and while a part of you missed the stability and predictability of your other partners, you would have been lying if you had said Sakura’s sheer craziness didn’t also turn you on in its own unique, special way.

When Sakura cums, her body turning into the same shaking, quivering mess she was when she came the first time, you are thankful - because you were close behind. Her flesh tightens and pulsates around you even more than you’d thought possible.

“I’m gonna cum, Sakura,” you hiss, forsaking for a moment her rule to limit your speaking to simple yesses or nos, and being thankful she was so far lost in the pleasure overtaking her senses that she was unable to pick up on that particular rule violation.

“Fucking fill my tight little pussy with your hot cum, you little fucktoy!”

Helpless to do much else, you allow yourself to finally fall over the edge, letting a deep, low groan escape your throat as your cock spasms and begins to spurt thick, hot cum inside the still-quivering Japanese girl’s wet, slick pussy. Even as your cock fills her with semen Sakura doesn’t stop, still riding you fiercely, still impaling herself with what was left of her energy, pushing your cum even deeper inside of herself with each thrust of your spasming cock.

It’s almost painful the way she slams her entire weight onto your crotch and the cold, unforgiving floor beneath it. You would’ve given anything to just hold her down by her hips and savor the feeling of your orgasm, the feeling of filling a young woman’s pussy with your cum for the first time. But what you wanted didn’t matter. You were in no position to tell her what you wanted, and she probably wouldn’t have cared even if you were.

When she finally stops it is almost a mercy. You are drained of energy like you’d never been before - utterly physically and mentally spent. Your cock still embedded hilt deep inside her, she reaches up and finally slips the blindfold from your eyes. You spend a few seconds blinking rapidly, your eyes unused to the sudden brightness.

“That was a great job! You have one hour with Rose,” she says, her face bright and cheerful, as though she were congratulating the first place kart racer and wasn’t currently impaled with a recently orgasmed cock, filled to the brim with its fresh, hot semen. She grabs you fiercely by the skull and gives you a final, fierce kiss.

“Will an hour be enough?” she asks when she finally tears her lips from yours. Able to see now, you lock eyes with her, and while her eyes are large and bright, you notice now that they are laced with more than a little crazy, brimming just below the surface.

It occurred to you at that moment just why Miyawaki Sakura had been buried in the records department of her precinct by her superiors.

She was a little crazy.

Too spent to come up with anything resembling a verbal response, you resort to following her rules once more.

You nod.

---

“I’m sure Officers Park and Douma have informed you of the charges that will be brought against you, and that your lawyer has conveyed the gravity of the situation you’re in,” Momo states, matter-of-factly. “The evidence is indisputable. Your future doesn’t look bright, Rose.”

“I’m aware that I’m fucked, yes,” Rose replies, making a dismissive gesture with her hands from the interrogation room’s table, where they are handcuffed to the thick metal bar in the middle of it. She had appeared to become even more of a mess since you saw her last at yesterday’s interrogation, with darker bags under her eyes and frazzled, messy hair. “So if I’m as screwed as you say I am, then why are you still here? Come to gloat, have you?”

“You’re here because we want to offer you something,” Momo answers.

“You? Offer me something? Hah! Unless it’s a ticket that lets me walk out that door a free woman then I’m not interested. What could you possibly have to offer me?”

Momo leans back in her chair. She had predicted that Rose would react the way she did during your preparation for this meeting. It was almost as if she had written a script for it - and it was your turn to speak your lines.

“Revenge,” you state, leaning forward on the table.

“Revenge? The fuck do you mean by that?”

“Let me ask you, Rose: how do you think we knew you’d be at that event a few days ago?”

“I dunno. Fucking cops have probably been tailing me from the second I touched down,” she spits with a dirty look towards the one-way glass, even if you knew there was no one on the other side. Sakura had made sure this conversation was strictly off the record.

“Nope. It’s because we received a tip - from one of your friends in Blackpink.”

Rose is unable to hide her reaction, her eyes going wide with surprise.

“You’re fucking lying. Why the hell would they give me up like that?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” you answer. “Maybe you pissed one of them off. Maybe they decided they didn’t need you anymore, getting caught doing shit overseas while they did the real hard work here in Japan and Korea. I don’t care. But if you help us find them, then maybe we can make sure they’re just as fucked as you are. If you’re especially helpful, maybe we recommend a lighter sentence for you.”

“You want me to rat on them? Give up my team?”

“Yes,” Momo answers. “Remember - it’s because of them that you’re going to be behind bars for a very long time, while they’re out there free as can be, living the life. This is your chance to take them down with you.”

“You must have had a safehouse or a base of operations here in Japan,” you add. “Give us the location of that base and we’ll make sure we take them down, without them being any the wiser that it was you who gave up their location.”

Rose bites her lip, staring intently at her own hands as she weighs her admittedly small range of options.

“If I give them up, you get me a lighter sentence? That’s it?”

“That’s part of it,” you answer, as Momo retrieves mugshots of the two Red Velvet members and from her briefcase and places them on the table. “We’re also tracking two fugitives from Korea that you might have heard of - Kang Seulgi and Kim Yerim. Do you or anyone in Blackpink know anything about them?”

Rose takes a quick glance at both photos, but there is no hint of recognition in her eyes.

“No, I don’t know either of those two. If it’s Koreans you’re looking for you’d best speak to the others. All my work was done overseas, as illustrated by your giant pile of indisputable evidence.”

Momo gathers the mugshots before taking a pad of paper and a pen from her briefcase and places them in front of Rose.

“We need you to write down the location of Blackpink’s safehouse,” she states.

Rose takes a last moment of thought before she reaches for the pen.

“I want your word that I’ll get a lighter sentence for this. And that they’ll never know it was me that gave them up.”

“You have it. We can’t guarantee that the judge will honor our request, but I promise you they’ll be aware of your cooperation,” Momo replies.

Rose scribbles an address down on the pad of paper before sliding it across the table to Momo. Momo takes out her phone and opens her map app to confirm its validity. Satisfied, she gives you a nod.

“You’ve made the right decision,” you tell Rose as you stand up and get ready to leave. Momo packs up her things and follows closely behind.

“Throw those bitches into a hole and let them rot,” Rose hisses as you leave the room.

In the outside hallway, Sakura, wearing a garishly pink hoodie now given that she’d torn the buttons off her uniform blouse earlier that afternoon, raises her head from her phone as she notices you and Momo have left the room. Giving Momo a polite, cheerful smile and shooting you a suggestive wink, she enters the interrogation room, presumably to return Rose to her cell.

Also waiting in the hallway, sitting on a bench, are Nayeon and a third woman, who begins to speak as soon as Sakura has closed the door to the interrogation room.

“Did she believe it? That it was Blackpink that gave her up?”

“Yes, you answer.”

“You got the location of their safehouse?”

“Yes.”

“What about Seulgi and Yeri? Did she know where they are?”

“No. I’m sorry, Irene.”

There is a flash of something resembling sadness and disappointment in Irene’s features. It is short and fleeting, but unmistakable. Soon it is replaced with the look of quiet determination that she had worn since the moment she’d joined you in Japan.

She rises from her seat. The short leggings she was wearing did little to hide the bulky tracking device around her ankle, but at least now her hands were free of the handcuffs she had on the last time you saw her.

“Understood. Let’s go - we have work to do.”

---

Author’s Note: Not my best work, I know, but I just wanted to get across how wild (in a good way) Sakura was during sex and I found it kind of difficult to get across that she was good crazy but not insane lol. Not sure how well I did or how clear everything came across as I’d never written anyone quite like her with those kinks. I always want to try writing new things and improving my writing, though. Let me know what you think. :)

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #izone #izone fanfic #izone sakura #miyawaki sakura #izone smut

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empodio · 2 years ago

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14. someone whose choices have drastically impacted their life || @stxrmapper || Send me a number and my muse will talk about:

It took a moment, perhaps it was still a sore subject, but there really wasn’t a way to change it now. “Nistiel...” He trailed off.

“Nistiel was not the first devil, no, that goes to Lord Amaexur, but he was the second, and he is an incredibly intelligent individual, knowledgeable with architecture, technology, music, theater, math, science, etcetera.” After all, it did require a lot of knowledge to shoulder so many realms on his own. “When I was created, he taught me everything he knew, an amazing teacher he was, as well, and this same knowledge we passed down to Iuerus, Sana and Axahs.”

“During our last war with Douma, they were ready to dissect Axahs, right then and there, from what we gather and the scar on Axahs’ torso, and Nistiel chose to overdo himself, not tell anybody, and jump in to action, back then I thought it may have been somewhat reckless, but I understand it much better now, he’s the fastest of all of us, had we been a bit slower, perhaps Axahs wouldn’t be here with us.”

“But it was a choice, he always chose to put others before himself, exhaust himself until he felt like sleeping for a week, tire himself out until he could no longer think, and in this case, he overloaded himself, and since then he’s chanced quite a lot, but it is not his fault.”

“It was strange in a way, seeing someone that used to be so eloquent, long winded sentences, complex words and perfect pauses, be reduced to short bursts of words, slow responses and a mess of subjects, if to me that is hard to experience, I can’t imagine how difficult it can be for him, even more as he became a quite more dependent on my assistance, and then got stuck in that office of his for a long time.”

“Oumara made him a special pair of gems for him, they’ve helped kept this overload at bay, and it’s much safer to be around him now, but the damage he went through is still there, he still jitters, he still faints when laughing, and there may be no cure for all of that.”

“It has been quite some time since I’ve last heard him talk about art or music, at least extensively, nor is he able to enjoy comedy the same as he used to.”

#stxrmapper #answered;#information;

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hexyourheartablaze · 3 years ago

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For real though, I wonder what their professions would be later in life. I can imagine that Michikatsu and Hakuji could teach Martial Arts. One of them being more of a private teacher while the other is teaching groups of kids. But Douma… what’s our boi doing? He still gives me strong influencer or model vibes. Although he would make a sweet Florist too… I swear this man is like Barbie. He can be whatever he wants. He can do whatever he wants. And he certainly can wear whatever he wants. ❄️

I think Hakuji would be great as a martial arts instructor!! He could teach those self defense classes. A bunch of office ladies sign up for his class because rumor has it the instructor is really cute and doesn't wear a shirt.

Michikatsu would be a CEO, something a bit stuffy but high class in my opinion. He criticizes Yoriichi for becoming a house husband when he could have earned a nice spot in his company. Yoriichi does not live in a nice luxury apartment like Michikatsu does, but he's happy and that's what makes Michikatsu most upset.

For Douma... I'm not sure if I want him to be a figure skater or if I want him to be an influencer/model. I thought of figure skating just because ice and he can incorporate fans/dance like he likes... It's up for debate though! I'd be down for suggestions.

#douma anon #a florist would be so cute!!#hex blazes

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blushiiros3 · 3 years ago

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Demon Slayer AU Headcanons!

This is a modern AU where most of everyone is friends. Yoriichi and Michikatsu are in their late 20′s, Tanjiro, Kanao, Inosuke, Aoi, Zenitsu, Shinobu, Kaigaku, and Genya are in high school, while Senjuro, Nezuko, and Muichiro are in 7th and 8th grade. Uzui is an art teacher, Kyojuro teaches math, Kyogai teached music and writing, Sanemi is a gym teacher, and Gyomei works front office with Giyuu. Mitsuri owns a bakery, and Iguro owns a pet shop. Kanae owns a flower shop, where Iguro goes often to make flower crowns for Mitsuri.Her main job is working as a child nurse.

Douma lives in his mom’s basement- (jk jk) he runs a marketing business and Akaza (Hakuji) is a basketball player in his school. Nakime goes around playing music and Michikatsu always goes to see her play.

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foursproutwealth-blog · 7 years ago

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From The Skripals To Douma, The Globalist Pravda Network Reveals Its True Face

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/from-the-skripals-to-douma-the-globalist-pravda-network-reveals-its-true-face/

From The Skripals To Douma, The Globalist Pravda Network Reveals Its True Face

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Authored by Rob Slane via TheBlogMire.com,

People living in the Soviet Union had a wonderful phrase to describe the two biggest circulation state-controlled newspapers, Pravda (meaning “truth”) and Izvestia (meaning “news”) – there’s no truth in Pravda and no news in Izvestia, was the oft-repeated expression. It is unfortunate that the mainstream media in the Western nations these days don’t have similar sorts of names, since it deprives us of an endless source of amusement in coming up with similarly apposite phrases about them.

It is, however, increasingly clear that on the great issues of the day, you are about as likely to find the truth in them as you would have done in Pravda, although I expect their sports and gardening sections are still relatively reliable. As for the important political and geopolitical issues of the day, I tend to imagine that on the walls next to the desks in the offices of many of these papers and broadcasters are the following instructions:

Rules for Reporting on Global Affairs

Repeat Government line unquestioningly.

If Government line is questioned, accuse those doing the questioning of being Bots, Kremlin-trolls and useful idiots.

If the persistent questioning won’t go away and the Government line is seen to be contradictory and full of holes, bury the issue completely and start posing deep questions, such as “What will Meghan wear?” or “Is there a gender pay gap in midwifery?” or “How much sugar is really bad for you?”

The Skripal and Douma episodes have demonstrated this perhaps more than any others.

First the Government line has been dutifully parroted by the media in a relentless propaganda campaign — no questions asked.

Then there have been attempts to silence or ridicule those who didn’t bow to the parrots and who were asking legitimate questions — including the appalling treatment meted out to distinguished military men.

And finally, both issues now appear to have been “disappeared” down the Memory Hole, apparently to be forgotten forever and ever.

This last point is so obvious in the Skripal case that it has caused some to speculate that the British Government has slapped a D-Notice on the case (this is a formal notice to the media to limit their coverage of the story on grounds of “national security”). I can hardly help thinking of that without giving a horse laugh. A D-Notice to stop the media reporting on the case on the grounds of national security? What’s funny about it is that all the media has done since day one of the case is to endlessly repeat the Government line on absolutely everything, even when that line became so utterly ludicrous that believing it required one to hold a number of contradictory and irreconcilable thoughts in one’s head at the same time.

In other words, if there is indeed a D-Notice on the issue, which seems very likely given the fact that there is now almost zero coverage of the case in the British media, it can have nothing to do with national security, per se, since from the get-go it was clear that the media had no interest in investigating any of the claims made by Government. The Government line was perfectly safe from being questioned by those who are apparently not able to report on it now, and so one can only conclude that it is because the Government line is so obviously full of holes that reporting on it needed to be stopped, lest increasing numbers of rational people recognised it to be somewhat barking.

It’s a shame really. I began to look forward to seeing what each day’s new dose of cock and bull would bring forth. They were poisoned at the restaurant. No the car. No the cemetery. The flowers. No, it was in the luggage. No, the bench. No, it was porridge. No, no, no! It was on the door handle, and it was liquid, which although tending to be runny, remained there for three weeks, even in all that rain and snow, in highly pure form, and you know the amazing thing is that people without protection stood just feet away from it, and they are fine. Whoda thunk it? But it is military-grade nerve agent “of a type developed by Russia” nonetheless. Seriously guv.

Oh and they’re in a coma. Sergei and Yulia, that is. Likely to die they are. A judge will probably have to take the decision to switch off their life support. Oh hang on, Yulia’s on the phone. Yes of course she is. She’s fine. Sorry we forgot to mention that before when we were talking about the life support machine. And Sergei’s okay too. Yes we can confirm that. Sorry we didn’t mention that before either. But he’s unable to talk. So you won’t hear from him. Or her. He’s in the hospital, though. Probably. Don’t know where she is. Not to be disturbed though.

Oh and there’s the policeman at the bench. Sorry, we meant the house. The house and the bench. Which one? How on earth should we know? Both probably. At the same time. But he can’t talk either.

What is particularly funny is that according to Mark Sedwell, the UK’s National Security Advisor, certain classified information – such as the apparent door handle delivery method – was released in order to “counter Russian disinformation”. Ah so it was Russian disinformation that took us from the restaurant to the car to the cemetery to the flowers to the luggage to the bench via the porridge and finally (finally???) to the door handle (I say “finally???” only because nobody has yet suggested the cat as the conduit for the poison)? So it was Russian disinformation that tried to sell us the idea of a slow-working, lethal yet non-lethal, military-grade nerve agent that enables its victims to go to restaurants, make them hallucinate and then be as right as rain a few weeks later? So it was Russian disinformation that told us that after studying hours of CCTV footage, British intelligence had a suspect in the case – the dashingly handsome, astonishingly intelligent, and diabolically ruthless former KGB agent, codenamed “Gordon” or was it “Cecil” or “Squiffy” or something, with a penchant for martial arts and (who can doubt) fast cars and loose women – only for Mark Sedwell to tell MPs a week later that there is no suspect, there never has been a suspect, and the investigation has been hampered by lack of CCTV footage?

Russian disinformation? Alas no. It was the UK media wot did it. They managed to put about more disinformation, stuff and nonsense, and cock and bull in a month or so than 10,000 “trolls” working 16 hour shifts in a basement in St. Petersburg could have done in a decade. And so you can see why the Government might want to slap a D-Notice on it, can’t you? Except that it should obviously be a C-Notice, the C standing for Comedy.

As for Douma, the media excelled itself there as well. There we have three Governments, apparently dropping bombs on chemical weapons depots in response to an unproven chemical weapons attack, and not one journalist in the mainstream media thought to say, “Hang on a minute! You dropped bombs on what you thought was a chemical weapons depot? Isn’t that … em … a tad on the dangerous side? Toxic fumes and people in the surrounding area becoming contaminated and all that?”

And when nobody became contaminated, not one mainstream media journalist thought to ask, “Hang on a minute! Isn’t the fact that there was no release of toxic substances into the atmosphere when you bombed it sort of like evidence that … em … how can we put it … there weren’t any toxic substances there?”

And when one of the little boys and the doctors in the “chemical attack” video that the Western Governments used as a pretext to bomb a sovereign country and spook us into wondering whether WWIII was about to start — when they turned up alive and well in The Hague to testify that there was no chemical attack, did even one mainstream media journalist think to themselves, “Maybe it would be good to hear what they have to say, since they were there?” Alas no. Some moved onto number 2 in the Rules for Reporting on Global Affairs, denouncing with barely concealed fury the testimony of the very people who had appeared in the original video that had once seemed so persuasive to them, whilst others moved onto number 3, and started talking about what Kim Kardashian has been up to lately.

It is clear that there is a deep sickness at the heart of the media. The whole point of its existence is to investigate incidents, to go where the facts lead it, and to serve ordinary people by attempting to report and reveal what is true. And above all that, it is to act as a check on the overweening state, so that it does not feel that it has carte blanche to do whatsoever it wishes.

But the handling of these two major cases has shown perhaps more than ever before that it has no intention of doing these things. It will not investigate, it has no intention of revealing inconvenient facts, and it cares little for the truth. And above all, instead of acting as a break on the state and on Government recklessness, its chief concern now appears to be doing the bidding of a very powerful group of Globalists, defending and advancing their diabolical agenda, regardless of what is and what isn’t true.

What should we call such a media that seems to have little or no regard for the truth, and which collectively serves the interests of the Global elite? Mainstream? Globalist Pravda Network seems to me to be a more accurate description.

#Wealth

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