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asarigg · 2 months ago

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Character Design: Part 5

FEATHERS

Another detail I’d like to mention about his tattoo before moving on is that the peony tattoo was originally meant to be accompanied by leaves, but they changed this for the final design. Leaves make sense, they’re natural, but feathers?

Feathers alone seem to have no relevance in Japanese culture, but there are two relevant birds that have black plumage: cormorants and crows.

Cormorants are valued birds for their fish-hunting skills and were often trained to help fishermen. Therefore, they are a symbol of devotion and unceasing commitment to their master.

Crows are probably the first thing that comes to mind when we think of black feathers, and just like in other countries they can be associated with evil, but also with supernatural powers, and are considered messengers of the gods. It is commonly associated with fire and the sun, it is said that it was the only bird that can fly to the sun, and its feathers are black because they were marked by its rays.

They are often represented together with a white heron, like yin and yang, day and night, good and bad.

Within mythology we find Yatagarasu, a sacred crow that had three legs. Heaven, Earth and humanity. Yatagarasu is sent by a god (I think Amaterasu, but I’ve also read about Takami-musubi) to help humans, a symbol of guidance, of connection between the spiritual and physical world.

They were once associated with rebirth and rejuvenation, as they cleansed the land after a battle. Rebirth after a tragedy. It was believed they carried the souls of the deceased, similar to butterflies, to the next plane of existence. In art they often represent death, the passing of time. Apparently they’re also sparrows’ natural enemies.

In short, each element of this poisoned tattoo only seems to be mockery after mockery on Ryuuhou’s part, a representation of what he knows will happen. The similarity of the tribal to birds, the meaning of peonies, the seed syllable inside the bird on his arm, and now the feathers as an addition to Koujaku’s virtues or as a premonition of death and tragedy. Death and destruction are carved all over his body. (He’s terrified of it, and avoids it, but Sly seeks it)

HAIR

Now let’s move on to hair. Hair is a symbol of spiritual power in many cultures around the world. As we’ve seen before in the sutra it is associated with Buddha, and by extension it is also associated with Koujaku, who’s a hairstylist and dedicates his life to cutting and controlling hair.

In ancient Japan, hair was a gift from god, it has been identified as a special focus of spiritual power and personality. The longer the better, it’s like it remembers thoughts and emotions, our identity. For this reason there are various ways in which social status is tied to hair too. It’s also used to curse people. There is a hair kami at the Arashiyama Kamigami shrine if I’m not mistaken, and you can make an offering by cutting a lock of your hair. In Sumo, when a fighter retired, they would ceremonially cut it.

Hair has been used and incorporated into Buddha embroidery as a way of forging a link between the worshipper and the Buddha depicted. Locks of hair can be seen at the doors of the Izumo shrine, which specializes in marriage. There are also stories of women who let their hair down when they go to sleep and the hair turns into snakes, poisonous desire, repressed during the day. There are other folkloric practices and beliefs about women’s hair, for example ship captains carrying part of their wives’ or daughters’ hair on board as a protective talisman.

In some communities, it is believed that a shaman’s powers, which allow her to negotiate between the worlds of the living and the dead, were located in her long, loose hair, a sacred connection with the gods, the darker and the longer the better.

For Koujaku, Aoba’s hair is sacred, extremely valuable. He had wanted to cut it for years, we see how excited he is when he touches and kisses it, and when he is finally able to fulfill his dream he carefully keeps one of his locks wrapped in a piece of paper inside a paulownia wood box. For him, his hair is an amulet, it is good luck, it is extremely symbolic of who Aoba is (and who wouldn’t remember him as the dude with blue hair, one of the key features of his design, as well as the very peculiar characteristics that the developers gave it) and what he means to Koujaku.

The lock of Aoba’s hair is a direct connection to him, no matter how far away he is or how long it takes them to see each other again, he will always have this amulet with him. He is a devotee of Aoba, Koujaku adores him and loves him intensely, and it is not unusual to think that this devotion takes on an even religious aspect, as if Aoba was divine, a god.

In Tibetan Buddhism they paint Buddha’s hair blue.

Koujaku's hair is tied up like a miko's, with a cylinder or strap of white paper and red knot. They also use a miko styled paper for Aoba's hairstyle in an illustration and the figure.

Paulownia wood is associated with nobility, fertility, good fortune and happiness. Paulownia is a tree that was often planted when a girl was born. Wealthy families would plant up to three trees, and when the girl grew up and was time to get married, the family would cut down the tree and make a chest and other items out of the wood to give to her on her wedding day. The kimono was meant to be stored in good quality wood to preserve it, and this wood naturally repels insects. It’s also used for instruments.

Another detail about Koujaku’s hairstyle is that his hairpin looks like a shamisen.

Trying to protect his mother from his father and legal wife only caused her more pain, so instead he tried to do something else. She’s so happy about the gift, and the wishes of her son to help her fill her with joy, but she knows that’s impossible. He’s only a kid, so she just smiles, without being able to reply. Honestly, given that this was a gift he made to his mother to brighten her day, I wonder if it could be related to her tastes, especially considering that the most common are simple or with floral decoration. We don’t know almost anything about her, her name, appearance, what she liked to do or to dress like, what she taught Koujaku to raise him, etc…

So seeing this I wouldn’t be surprised if his mother actually played this instrument and maybe taught her son. The point is that this illustration exists.

A Tumblr user recently mentioned it on her post.

GOOD LUCK

Another piece of his design are these bracelets he wears on both hands. These bracelets are prayer beads, called Nenju or Juzu. Originally used in Buddhism to help with meditation by counting prayers, 108 beads are used representing the 108 earthly desires that one seeks to overcome in order to reach enlightenment, used to purify body and mind and express devotion to Buddha. They are used as protection as well. There are versions with fewer beads, 18, 27, 36 or 54, although there’s no fixed amount as many times it depends on the length and size of the beads, sometimes they carry a magatama. Women’s version usually has smaller beads and have more decorative colors, there are versions for children too. Beni’s necklace to me is just a kids version Koujaku bought for him to be honest…

Formal prayer beads also vary their appearance depending on the sect and it would be preferred that the person you marry belongs to the same sect. The tassels can also vary their shape. When these beads are damaged or can no longer serve their purpose, they are ritually burned on an altar where they are thanked for their service along with other amulets and get destroyed. Many people use them in funerals since most are held by Buddhists.

The ones that Koujaku wears in the shape of a bracelet are short, with two hanging tassels, the ones he’s using are 頭付房, I’m not sure how this translates but seems something like tassel with head/head tassel. Made to be more comfortable to carry anywhere, taking up less space or in a casual fashion. I like thinking he has formal Buddhist prayer beads kept somewhere for when he wants to pray for the people he knows.

The knot on his neck and the one in the decoration of his hair is a kiku knot, chrysanthemum knot, with two tassels hanging too. It’s also the type Shiroba/Sly uses in the bad ending. We’ve already seen what the chrysanthemum means. This knot is theorized to be a variation of a Buddhist knot, the endless knot, as a representation of Buddha’s infinite wisdom. In Tibetan Buddhism it symbolises Samsara, a never ending cycle. There are a few other interpretations.

Knots with tassels like this (総角房) would also be used in samurai helmets as a good luck charm, and it’s the type he has on his sword, not the chrysanthemum one.

We don’t really see or hear about Koujaku performing any religious practices during the story, except attending the festivals that everyone else goes to out of custom rather than a religious devotion. But I wouldn’t find it strange if he did it in the privacy of his home to try to attract luck in his life and try to separate himself from the beast, to be a good person and pray for his mother. After all, cultural and religious references are everywhere, and he himself wonders about the existence of souls, implying a much more spiritual understanding of life on his part.

Red is the first thing that catches your eye when you look at his design, and it’s a very important color in shintoism and is used in shrines everywhere, in clothes, buildings, torii gates, amulets, etc. It’s a color related to luck, the sacred, that coexists in balance with white. It’s love and passion, and it’s evil and blood. These dualities are present everywhere, both in his design and in his story.

#dmmd #koujaku #aoba seragaki #dramatical murder #aoba #kouao #koujaku dmmd #essay

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rahuratna · 2 months ago

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Synopsis: A little gift fic for @musubi-sama Happy birthday!

You've enlisted the services of Geto Suguru to assist you with ridding yourself of strange dreams. In the world of curses, however, nothing is as it seems ...

CW: Mild sensuality.

There is something of the wolf in him.

Maybe it's the smile he wears like a summer garment, carelessly offered, carelessly discarded, a suggestion of bared teeth beneath. Maybe it's the languid grace, the ill-concealed strength beneath the rich material of the yukata.

It is, possibly, in the way his dark, dark eyes trace something unseen as their gaze glides along your seated form within the spacious, traditional room.

A predator's glance, yes, but one seeking tougher prey than you.

You start to wonder where you'd found the courage to mount those stairs, to follow the airy wave of the attendant, to take such a risk based on hearsay alone. It had been office gossip that had drawn you to this place, after all. It shamed you to say it, or even think it, but it was the truth. You'd been desperate, and you'd heard whispers of a solution, of his reputation in certain circles.

And here you were. It was too late for regrets.

As if reading your tumultuous thoughts, his eyes flick towards yours, the smile growing wider for a second. When he speaks, the afternoon breeze outside seems to still a little, to snake into the corners of the room, ready to do his bidding. Soft, cajoling, his voice commandeers your attention like a single, crisp footfall in a dark forest.

"You're here for my help, I presume."

Your tongue darts out, moistening your lips.

"Yes. I - You see, it's the woman who lives next door to me."

He nods, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Go on."

"She's elderly. Alone. I've never seen ... well, any family visiting her, but I've not been in the neighbourhood for long."

You pause, collecting your thoughts. How could this be phrased in a manner that didn't make you sound like the unhinged party?

"Recently, she's been asking to come over. I humoured her, a few times. Had her over for tea. I even gifted her a plant I'd bought. But then ... as soon she was inside the house, she changed."

"Changed?"

You shift slightly, the floor beneath the tatami mat suddenly harder against your knees.

"She becomes quiet. Weird. Like she's waiting for something. She's ... quite chatty outside, but when she's inside, she just ... becomes different. Anyway, that was just the first thing I noticed. I started to find ... these. Scattered over my doorstep."

You produce the dark, polished stone from your pocket, handling it gingerly. He makes no move, and so you approach, placing it a few feet away from him and settling back into a sitting position.

"And ... I know this sounds ... "

He waves a hand, nonchalant, as if nothing you say could possibly surprise him.

"After the stones started to appear, I started to have dreams. Really vivid dreams. In them, I am riding a train, like the one I take to work. It's a stormy day outside. So I look out the window, and I see clouds. Thick, dark clouds. And they start to form a shape."

For the first time, you see a glimmer of interest in those onyx eyes. The palm cushioning his chin drops away.

"Hmm. In your dream, is the train traveling away from, or towards the clouds?"

"Towards. In fact they ... form the shape of her face. With her mouth wide open. And she ... she swallows the train. It travels right into her mouth, with me in it."

"And what then?"

"I wake up. Nothing else really happens, except for ... "

He waits, fingers tracing idly along his earlobe. You clear your throat.

"Well, I wake up feeling like a ... child. A child who wakes up in the dark. Like I want my mother to come into my room and hold me. Many times, I cry. And it doesn't ... go away, the feeling. Even when I'm at work, even when I'm having dinner with colleagues, I just ... feel the urge to be embraced. By my mother. A parent. Someone. It's so strong that I ... locked myself in a toilet once and wrapped my arms around myself."

Your laugh is higher pitched than you'd prefer, brittle. You blink rapidly, fighting the cloudiness that settles across your eyes.

"My mother's long gone, and I've been living alone for many years now. I've never felt this way before. I can't explain it. I have a feeling. A feeling that it all has something to do with her. That she ... did something to me when she came to my house. The way she watched me. Like she was waiting for something."

He hums thoughtfully, straightening out of his semi-reclining position.

"In cases such as these, I think it works best to visit the site itself."

"The ... site?"

"Your home, of course."

"Oh. My - Oh. I really don't want to make you go out of your way. I live all the way over in - "

He rises, the fall of his dark hair echoing the slide of long sleeves as he gracefully re-arranges himself.

"And you've come all the way here, to me, for assistance. Please don't forget that you've paid us to render you a service. I hate to sound so ... transactional, but you've sought out our help. And you traveled by train no less."

His sly, sideways glance drags a reluctant smile out of you. He bows politely, the corner of his own mouth quirking.

"At your service."

He informs you of the time of his arrival, of course. His communication by text message is light, professional.

You arrange to leave work early that day, hurrying back to your home, eyes flickering across the fence to the door of the neighboring house. That's where she is. There is no sign of her at this time, but your imagination conjures up the twitch of a curtain, the soft shuffle of slippered feet within.

Your key slips slightly as you unlock the front door and you enter, closing it behind you with force. Taking a deep breath, you will your muscles out of their tense state.

He will be here soon. He will end this.

You busy yourself with tidying up, hands drifting aimlessly over dust-free counter-tops, shifting a few items around. Sitting is out of the question.

About forty minutes after you arrive, the doorbell chimes softly. Geto is standing a small distance away from the door when you answer it. He doesn't greet you immediately. His eyes are roving across the front of your house, sliding sideways, and you shiver as you see the look that crosses his face as his gaze lands on her house.

Not unpleasant. Almost eager. Hungry.

He turns to you with a smile, eyes curving slightly upward, and you're struck by how handsome he looks. In civilian clothes, a knitted sweater and jeans, black leather loafers and a silver wristwatch, he looks effortlessly beautiful, the swathe of dark hair gleaming in the mid-morning light.

Everything about him seems casual, luxurious. Besides the eyes, of course. They consume the warmth of the yard and reflect something you can't (and maybe don't want to) put a name to.

"Good morning, Geto. Please, come in."

You bow politely and he waves off the formality of your greeting. Somewhere, to the left, you hear a door creak slightly open. Geto steps forward and surprises you by slipping his warm fingers underneath yours, hooking and pulling you forward. You stumble out into the yard beside him and his smile grows wider. He spreads his arms out.

"Why go in when we can experience this glorious sunshine? Let's stay here for a bit."

The door of the neighbouring house is now open. You can hear the protesting squeal of old hinges, but you ignore it and play along with Geto's charade. It must have some meaning.

Shrugging, you finger the slightly frayed hem of your own cardigan.

"I haven't really stopped to soak up the sun for a while now."

He flicks your forehead in a manner that almost reddens your cheeks and by his knowing grin, he is aware of exactly what kind of effect his actions have.

"I've told you so many times. You're looking too gloomy. Flowers like you need sunlight and care."

It takes all of your composure to keep the soft smile on your face as you hear the slide of slippers across the paved garden path on the other side of the fence. Geto glances up and feigns surprise. Reluctantly, you turn to regard the face that has haunted your dreams for almost a month now.

She is openly staring, gaze fluttering between you and Geto with something that looks like alarm. You clear your throat.

"Miss Okoyama. You're out early."

She nods, but she is still scrutinizing Geto. Her voice is reedy, as always.

"Oh, I just ... saw you out. Thought I'd come over and say hello. Haven't seen you in a while."

Her tone sounds slightly accusatory and you feel a tinge of anger. Gesturing to the man beside you, your introduction is almost brusque.

"This is Geto. He's ... a work colleague."

"Ah."

Geto bows politely, playfully. He steps closer to you, and her eyes follow where he places his palm lightly on the small of your back. You feel the warmth of him through your clothes. Feeling more than a little flustered with how this entire situation seems to be unraveling, you grasp his sleeve and tug slightly.

"Let's not keep Miss Okoyama out too long. She needs rest."

Geto greets her politely and follows you back in. You can feel the interrogator's beam of regard on your back, the icy hot trail of watchfulness passing between you and Geto once again.

Once in the safety of your living room, you drop heavily onto the sofa, hands coming up to massage your temples.

"Well. At least you got to meet her."

He laughs and settles down opposite you.

"I'm beginning to see the problem here."

"You are?"

"All too clearly. You mentioned before that this ... strange behavior started last month?"

"Around then, yes."

"And you said that she changed when she stepped into your house?"

You nod, wringing your hands slightly.

"I don't know. Yes. Maybe. I just ... had a weird feeling come from her."

He rises and motions for you to stay seated as he begins a cursory inspection of your home. As he peers into various corners, a stream of questions keeps your attention focused on answering accurately, as opposed to wondering what he is searching for.

"What did you speak about? When she was here?"

"Different things. Our lives, I guess. My job. My family. Her family."

"You mentioned your mother to her?"

You hesitate slightly, watching him as he traces light fingers over the kitchen counter, moving towards your bookshelves.

"Oh, yes. She asked me."

You're not quite sure why you sound so defensive, but he appears not to take notice. He is now examining the books on your shelves.

"Interesting collection you have here. Have you ever leant out any books to her?"

"What? No, never. I mean, after I started having the dreams, I never invited her back here."

The wandering fingers have now flitted from the bookshelf to the stand beside it, holding a small basket for your keys and a potted plant. Feeling a sudden surge of impatience, you stand and make your way to the kitchen.

"Would you like some tea? Coffee, maybe?"

"Oh, don't mind me."

He is now softly brushing the leaves of the pot plant, and you're reminded of how those hands felt a short while ago, fingers coiled around yours. Large, substantial, warm, their strength beyond your ability to guage.

You busy yourself preparing coffee, the rich, decadent scent as enticing as his presence here, in your space. You hear a faint clink and rustle, but when you turn, he is making his way towards the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively.

"Actually, I'd love some coffee."

Your fingers drum across the counter-top.

"Did you ... find anything?"

He doesn't reply immediately, picking up the package of ground coffee and examining the label.

"Does she often ambush you in the yard like that?"

"Once or twice. I ... usually manage to avoid her."

He sets the package down, deceptively delicate. You raise your eyes to his. This close, you can smell the ocean bite of his cologne, cleaner and lighter than you expected. The faint shadow of long lashes falls against his cheek, magnified by the overhead light. His breath fans warm across your cheek, shockingly intimate in the small space. His voice, when he speaks, is soft, so soft.

"Do you know about curses?"

"Curses?"

He wags a teasing finger.

"Dont look at me like that. Curses are very real. They inhabit our world, and us."

You're aware of the line of confusion forming between your brows.

"I don't think I follow. Are you saying that she's cursed me?"

"Not quite. You see, a curse is something that can only be knowingly placed by an expert. And yet, so many of us go about our lives, unaware of the curses that others place upon us. The curses we place upon them. The curses we harbour within ourselves."

You're not sure about the source of your uneasiness, but it is growing. You place the blame on his proximity, the way you can hear his lips part when he speaks.

"You miss your mother, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I - "

"I can feel it. It's here, in the air. Your longing for her."

"After those dreams -"

"No. Before them."

His contradiction is matter-of-fact, a contrast to the feathery contact of his fingers with a stray lock of your hair.

"You must have missed her terribly, to be holding something like this inside yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

You don't mean to whisper. You never meant for that hoarseness to find its way into your voice. The fine balance of terror and desire, now on a honed blade's edge, glides across your skin alongside his fingers.

"I'm talking about your curse. The one you placed on Miss Okoyama."

"That's nonsense and you know it. I've never - "

The black pebbles clatter across your kitchen counter, falling from his fist like a miniature, contained hailstorm. Your muscles lock in place as you watch the sleek, dark grey stones scatter, as if following some unknown law of impact.

"Where did you get those?"

"From your pot plant. These stones are just beneath the surface of the soil. Was it a plant like this one that you gifted her? Did those pebbles on your doorstep really come from her?"

The marble of the counter digs into your back as you lean away from him.

"You need to leave. Now."

His laugh is easy, full of merriment, as if the conversation you've been having isn't fraught with confrontation, tension and (on your part), anger and fear.

"Now, now, there's no need for that."

He straightens, and suddenly, you're aware of how much taller he is, how that gnawing edge of perpertual starvation in his glance has focused its full force on you.

You are prey.

You can't let him go further, and so, you attempt to defend yourself.

"What are you doing? Are you blaming me for all of this?"

"I am. But not in the way you're thinking. You missed your mother. You invited this woman into your home, a presence who may have subconsciously reminded you of her. You gifted her this pot plant, and you began to see a change in her."

He reaches across, ignoring the way you flinch, and gently places his forefinger on the region of your heart.

"You carry a desolation in here. You don't even know it's there, most days, because does one question the desert one inhabits? The drought that came without another's love has been here for a long time. Your dreams of Miss Okoyama reflect your desire to be consumed, rather than escape her. It doesn't change the fact that you are fearful of this need."

He taps the stones.

"You fill the pockets of your heart with stone weights, and you drop them into a lake deep inside yourself. You unknowingly ensnared Miss Okoyama with these same little tokens. But curses never stay silent, do they, my dear?"

Your breathing has migrated to the realm of rapid, shallow pants, dampness breaking out across your brow. You are afraid, so deathly afraid. You want someone to hold you. You want arms wrapping around your body, around and around, a meteor belt lashed to the gravity of your never-ending need.

You want -

His hand is cupping your jaw, so warm, so warm, tilting your head up, your panicked gaze meeting his bottomless hunger. You have so much to give away, this curse as he names it, and if he can help you, then -

"Please."

You hear the desperation in your own voice, and hate every drawn out syllabyl of it.

"Please take it from me. Remove my curse."

"With pleasure."

His head dips with slow, dancer's grace, his mouth covering yours like a drift of autumnnal leaves over the cold earth. It is only chaste for a moment; he is now languidly prying you open with his tongue, lapping at you. The heat of his lips, the soft hum of approval that rumbles through his chest, the final firm slide of his arms around your waist seals in the perfection you have been craving.

This, this, is what you needed. It's all that you -

He licks a stripe across your lips playfully, and then, impossibly, deepens the kiss, your head tilting back under the force. You let out a small sound of pleasure, but your eyes snap open again when you feel something else.

He is hungry. That much is evident in the way he shifts his head from one angle to the next, dampness crawling over your lips and smearing hot along the sides of them. Something is different, though.

There is a strange coil in your stomach, one you'd initially mistaken for arousal. It feels almost as if ...

Gasping, you place your hands on his chest, as if to shove him away, but he is too strong. Keeping his mouth fixed over yours, he drinks of you deeply. And he draws something out.

Eyes widening, you go limp in his grasp as his teeth latch onto your bottom lip, nipping harshly. Those large hands map out the curves of you, tracing the valley between waist and hip, sinking into your flesh, tugging it relentlessly out of you.

For one, long, agonizing moment, you feel a tearing separation within you, one that makes you cry out, breaking the kiss, you head whipping back and forth. He speaks soft words of encouragement, unrelenting in his hold on you, pressing you back against the counter as equal parts arousal and fear war within your ravaged mind.

You eyes open, briefly, but you see it. It hovers in the air, a grotesque apparition of rolling eyes, spidery fingers and an oversized head, claws reaching for you, before it is drawn into a crushing black hole of darkness.

Geto's mouth opens, wide, so wide, and you watch, paralysed, as that black sphere disappears within him, gliding along the velveteen length of his tongue, drawn behind the pearly cage of his teeth, down, down, an eclipse of the throat, until nothing is left.

A terrible rush of fatigue assails you, turning your limbs to lead weights. And yet, there is such relief. It feels as if you've emptied your pockets of every stone you've collected, every little increment of isolation you've endured for such a long time.

Before your vision swims beyond the recoverable, darkness creeping in at the edges of it, you see the satisfied look on Geto's face.

He has swallowed your curse, and the heaviness it brings to your heart.

You regain consciousness hours later, tucked safely into your bed. There is no note, no communication on your phone, and yet, you lie for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling more complete than you have in years.

The gnawing hunger was something you'd never known was there, until it was gone. No wonder Geto had seemed so familiar to you in his presence. The thing inside you was just as much of a predator as he was, just so much weaker.

You do wish that you'd regained consciousness before he'd left, though. You'd have liked to thank him for what he's done for you. Glancing across at your phone, you know, with some kind of visceral certainty, that he will never contact you again.

Your fingers rise, trace softly over your lips, and your eyes close once again.

Maybe it's just as well that you were passed out. You hadn't seen Geto leave, hadn't seen him pause on the stairs and glance sideways before nodding slightly, finding no trace of your curse left hovering at the door of that hapless woman's abode.

Miss Okoyama would return to her regular self soon enough.

Geto paused on the street, sliding a small spray bottle of disinfectant from a pocket, as if by instinct. He raised it, the nozzle facing him, before considering it thoughtfully.

He smiled and tucked it away.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto x you #geto seduces the curse right out of you #happy birthday jen!

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suzukiblu · 1 year ago

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Day twenty-eight of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“I'll show you how it works,” Tim says, smiling a little helplessly at him for no good reason. Kon's just–pretty. And cute. And wearing slightly smudged eyeliner, like he went out of his way to learn how to apply it just for this and didn't quite get enough practice with it during said learning process, which might be a little much to assume but sure is a thought either way. “There'll be placards and stuff that explain how it all goes too. If you don't like it we can leave, obviously, we'll just go to dinner early.”

“You wanna do dinner too?” Kon asks.

“My intentions tonight are for this exhibit, dinner, and then another surprise destination,” Tim says. “Do you like Japanese food, because I got us a reservation at a Japanese place I know, but if that's not your thing, there's always other options.”

Tim definitely did not make three back-up reservations in a Bat-panic, because that would be an insane person thing to do and he's operating with fully rational behavior for fully rational reasons here. Obviously. Of course-ly.

Just like, yeah. There may or may not be back-up reservations.

Contingency plans are vital, okay?

“I like Japanese food,” Kon says. “Well–I like sushi and musubi and poke bowls and that kinda thing, at least. So like . . . same diff, right?”

“Right,” Tim assumes, with still no idea what either musubi or poke bowls are. He'll google it. It'll be fine. If nothing else, Kon can get sushi. He'll buy him one of those huge fancy boats of it if he's gotta.

. . . actually that's not a bad idea, Kon could probably use the calories. Hm.

“You planned all that stuff, though?” Kon asks, peering around the gallery as they finally step out into it and frowning in confusion.

“I promised you I'd take you someplace nice,” Tim says with an easy shrug. “So I found some nice places to take you. That's all.”

“You only promised me one nice place,” Kon says with a little laugh, shaking his head. “Now it's three?”

“I'm intending to take you to a lot of nice places, Kon,” Tim says, and feels his chest clench up a little when he sees the way Kon's expression softens at the sound of his name. He needs to be using it more, he thinks to himself. Like–way more. “Or just wherever you wanna go.”

“Sure,” Kon says, ducking his head, then glances around the gallery again as his frown reasserts itself. “What's everybody doing? They're like–messing with everything.”

“It's a sensory exhibit,” Tim repeats in clarification. “You're supposed to interact with the exhibits. Touch or listen to or manipulate them. Things like that.”

Kon . . . blinks, slowly. Then he glances sidelong at Tim, biting his lip.

He doesn't ask, but the question in his eyes is obvious enough, Tim thinks.

“It's tactile telekinesis, isn't it?” he says. “So I thought you might be interested in something tactile.”

“You . . . did?” Kon says, glancing back towards the rest of the room.

“It at least seemed like a valid theory,” Tim says. Kon had kept touching the cashmere on and off for as long as he’d worn it, and petted the goat, and had apparently been clocking the whole damn mall most of the time they’d been there, and he’d just thought–well–

Kon really does talk about his TTK so much, whether it’s relevant or not. Doing something that might be deliberately relevant to it had just seemed, well . . . natural.

If nothing else, it might help keep Kon interested in him a little longer. Tim still isn’t sure how long to expect Kon to stay interested, depending, so until he knows one way or the other, he might as well frontload his success here. Or at least try to, anyway.

Look, he’s going to do his best, alright? His best is just the best he can do.

“You know, if you wanted me to touch something, you could’ve just volunteered,” Kon jokes, but the way he says it doesn’t actually make Tim want to laugh. It’s actually all he can do not to frown, the way he says it. Just . . . something about it’s a little off, maybe.

“I told you I’d take you on a date,” he says. “Just telling you to feel me up doesn’t seem like putting in much effort there. Definitely not nice levels of effort.”

“Oh,” Kon says, ducking his head as he glances away again. He’s still holding his hand. Tim wonders what kind of dates Kon’s even been on before–and if he’s ever been the one getting taken on one, too. Especially since as far as he knows Kon’s only dated girls, and there were probably some assumptions set in place there. Like–it seems likely that there would’ve been, at least. Even if just self-imposed ones.

“Want to try?” Tim offers. “Like I said, if you don’t like it we’ll just go to dinner early.”

“Um, sure,” Kon says. “We can try it. Um . . .”

“This way,” Tim says, and leads him towards one of the closer stations in the exhibit. Kon looks a little unsure where to start, so he figures it’ll help if he gives him a little push. Though it’s weird to think of Kon as needing any kind of a push, except maybe a push to actually stay still and listen for ten seconds. Or like . . . anything remotely along those lines.

The station is a low, hip-height sandbox full of . . . well, sand, unsurprisingly. There's stones and rakes and general Zen garden-style paraphernalia laid out inside it, and patterns and colors already marked and dyed into the sand to be mixed-up and deconstructed at will, though no one seems to have gotten too far into that yet. Kon tilts his head as he looks down at the display, his eyes briefly unfocusing.

“You're just supposed to play around with it,” Tim says, wondering what that unfocused look on his face is about. “Rearrange the patterns or make new ones, I guess.”

“Huh,” Kon says. “Okay. Like just however?”

“I mean, what, are they gonna yell at us for doing it wrong?” Tim asks with a shrug. Kon smirks at him.

“I could come up with something they'd yell at us for,” he says with a teasing leer.

Tim suffers.

“Let's wait a couple stations before we get ourselves kicked out,” he manages, swallowing awkwardly. Kon grins at him, then leans over the sandbox and presses both hands flat against the sand inside and immediately starts rearranging everything with his TTK. Tim is about to reflexively protest him not even pretending to check for any onlookers before realizing that there is literally no possible way that anyone could look at them right now without Kon being able to feel them turning their way, and also the two security cameras that were previously in their range are both cocked askew now.

Okay, so he could be worse at passing for civilian, Tim figures, and just leans over and lets himself admire the wave-like ripples spreading across the sandbox as Kon carefully constructs a swirling rainbow of an ocean with all of the brighter colors and a dark beach stretched out alongside it, accented with little rocks scattered around like shells and driftwood. The wave patterns look surprisingly accurate, but then again, he probably did get a great aerial view of the ocean on the regular back in Hawaii, didn't he.

Tim takes his phone out and sneaks a quick pic or two of both Kon and the box on old reflex, and Kon laughs at him.

“You like, babe?” he asks with a teasing smirk.

“Most things about you, yes,” Tim replies frankly, because he's not Robin right now so he can do that, and Kon laughs again even as he blushes and straightens back up, the sand all brushing itself off his hands.

“Only most?” he asks. “Guess I gotta step up my game, then.”

“Find another excuse to wear that crop top and you'll be fine,” Tim advises, and Kon laughs so bright for that it's almost flustering.

Well, no, it's definitely flustering. Actually it's very, very flustering.

Adorable bastard. Absolute fucker. Tim should throw him off a bridge, but he'd just fly back up anyway, the asshole.

Tim wants to kiss him so bad right now.

Kon's eyes half-unfocus again, and then the sand and rocks and tools all . . . shift. Tim blinks, a little surprised, and then realizes–oh. He's sorting it all back. Like . . . very accurately back, in fact. The colors and patterns are all returning to the exact same designs as they were in when they first stepped over here. Which is probably for the best because again, they’re currently playing civilian, but–

“Holy shit,” Tim says as the patterns all settle back in and his eyebrows shoot up, more than a little incredulous. Okay, well–he's slightly less sure that Kon doesn't have Superman's eidetic memory now. Also, considering how mixed-around all the colors were, he doesn't even know how he did that so effectively. “How the hell did you do that?”

“Wasn't hard,” Kon replies casually, but he looks smug about it, the–again–adorable bastard. Fucker. “Just undid what everybody already did, yeah?”

Tim looks at the sand and belatedly notices that yes, in fact, Kon also reverted everything else that'd been done to it back to what was clearly the original design too. He cannot even fathom how Kon could tell how to “undo” any of that. Like–the pattern-recognition, fine, he could've done that himself–Bart could've, if he'd been interested enough to bother–but tracking back a design after undoing the whole thing to begin with and keeping the different colors of sand all correctly separated? Seriously?

“Jesus,” he says. “That's incredible.”

“No big,” Kon says, but looks very pleased about the compliment all the same. Tim thinks of about three thousand tactical applications for this skill alone and really wants to know why Kon doesn't brag about this part of TTK more. Or like, ever. It's always punching things and ripping up the street and tearing doors off their hinges and things like that, when he can do things like map an entire building blind and control sand down to the fucking individual grains?

Tim might need to have a talk with all of their teammates about their actual abilities, actually, seeing all this. Like, some assessment tests might need to happen. Questionnaires. Something. The informal approach was clearly not thorough enough. If nothing else, he's definitely following up with Kon.

“I honestly did not realize how good you'd be at that,” Tim says, and then has to watch in disbelief as Kon smirks smugly at him while simultaneously–without even looking–builds a little sand castle without even bothering to put his hands in the sand this time. Which he doesn't have to, obviously, because the sand is in the sandbox and it's part of the table which is on the floor he's standing on and Tim objectively understands how TTK works, but that really seems like it'd be much harder to pull off. Just–damn. Damn.

. . . technically, if Kon can control things as small as a grain of sand, how small can he go? Could he–theoretically, at least–manipulate dust? Air molecules?

Atoms?

Because if he could, if things like that counted . . . well, the transitive properties of TTK would be a lot less of a limitation outside of maybe the vacuum of space, wouldn't they. There's always air, after all. And if Kon could manipulate anything on the atomic level . . .

Jesus. There's a thought.

As soon as Tim's done being desperately, overwhelmingly turned on and also reformatting several of his supervillainy-connected plans, he's gonna have to start drafting that superpower skills and applications thereof questionnaire. Like. Immediately once he's done, actually.

Just–again, just Jesus.

“I mean, it's just a party trick, but it's a fun one, right?” Kon says with another laugh.

Tim is going to lose his actual fucking mind.

“You call that a party trick?” he says in disbelief. There is no possible way that any lock could be secure against that. No one could ever hide behind cover. No one could even carry a concealed weapon without him knowing, for fuck's sake!

. . . Tim is very glad he's been leaving the birdarangs home for his not-dates and current-date with Kon. Very, very glad.

Jesus, that would've been fun to explain to Bruce. Well I didn't TELL him I was Robin, but I DID encourage him to tactile-telekinetically feel me up in a changing room while I was strapped with Bat-gear, sooooo . . . I mean, you never told me I couldn't do THAT.

That's exactly how he would've explained it, obviously, but still. Bruce would not have taken it well.

What a fucking way to come out to Batman, too.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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pseudowho · 4 months ago

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huehuehue

(I'm helping, I'm helping)

Damn you @musubi-sama for starting us on this.

(original post with editable photos included for your editing and reblogging pleasure)

#pseudowho #pseudowho answers you #Musubi-sama #Silly rice all #jjk dagon #kento nanami #zenin naobito #zenin maki #Nigiri #Sushi

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flyingwargle · 2 months ago

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the msby black jackals are gathered in the cafeteria for lunch, crowded around two party trays of onigiri, courtesy of onigiri miya. hinata is showing a tiktok to bokuto on his phone, miya is chatting with meian about new attack formations, and sakusa listens while nibbling on his onigiri. inunaki sits with adriah, fingers sticky with rice and bits of seaweed, flakes of tuna on the table.

"i can't wait for the holiday break," adriah is telling him. "there's a beach in hawaii that's calling my name."

"really? is it that nice?"

"the best. you have to drive a fair bit away to go to the quieter beaches, but it's worth it. my family and i went every winter; my parents want to retire there, but they say the process is too complicated, being canadian and whatnot."

"yeah, it sounds like one of those destinations that everyone would want to retire to." inunaki grabs another onigiri and takes a bite. "what's the food like?"

"it's pretty good! they have something called poké, which is similar to a chirashi don, but with more vegetables. i miss loco moco too, i haven't been able to find anything like it here." adriah examines his onigiri. "there's something close to onigiri too, the spam musubi."

"musubi?" inunaki echoes. "same as msby?"

adriah shakes his head. "they sound the same but spelled differently. it's spam, rice, egg, and seaweed wrapped altogether, like an onigiri."

"what about spam?" barnes leans in.

"spam musubi. have you had it before?"

"oh, yes, just once, when i went to a hawaiian restaurant with the kids. it isn't too dissimilar from an onigiri, now that i think about it."

meian joins them, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "we got our own msby musubi right here."

the three youngest athletes look up, sakusa pretending to ignore them. inunaki blinks, lips curling into a grin. "oh my god, you're right. look - rice." he gestures at bokuto. "spam." he points at hinata. "egg and seaweed." the last two are directed at miya and sakusa.

"it's the hair," adriah guffaws. "and their shirts! was this planned?"

"are we being compared to food?" hinata asks, puzzled.

"here, look, look." inunaki brings up a picture of spam musubi on his phone and shows it to him, the others peering over him. bokuto looks around, miya's eyes widening with realization. sakusa remains unfazed. "it's true, right?"

"we gotta pose like this," miya declares. "we have to see who's more like a musubi - us, or that."

adriah raises an eyebrow. "unless you somehow become edible, i don't think you're going to beat out a literal food item."

"it's wordplay, man! musubi and msby! wouldn't it be funny?"

meian cracks a smile. "i think it's a rather harmless reference, so i'll approve of it."

miya stuffs the rest of his onigiri in his mouth and wipes his hands clean. "all right! bokkun, you're rice so you're at the bottom, then it'll be me and then shoyo. omi, you'll-"

"no."

"you're laying on top of us! you're practically doin' nothin'!"

"i think it's ridiculous and i'd rather spend the rest of my lunch in peace."

inunaki snorts. "there has never been a moment of peace on this team, ever."

"it'd be good to post on the team's social media," barnes reasons. "we haven't posted anything since the last highlights video last month."

"that is true," meian acknowledges. "we have one of the smallest followings, compared to the other v. league teams. this could help boost our numbers."

"maybe because most of our fans follow us individually instead as a whole," adriah points out.

hinata jumps to his feet. "let's do it! we'll get a yoga mat and everything to be safe! come on, omi-san!"

it takes a bit more wheedling to persuade their most prickly teammate to join in, but he eventually relents after miya promises him a week’s supply of umeboshi onigiri from his brother’s place. with his mask looped around his ears again, they head into the gym, where hinata drags a mat from the equipment storage. bokuto flops onto it, rolling onto his side. “like this?”

“me next!” miya balances his weight over him, barnes and adriah on the sidelines with their arms out as spotters. once he’s comfortable, hinata approaches. “aw heck, i don’t think this is gonna be a good idea–“

“i’m on top!” hinata presses his chest on top of miya, who immediately groans beneath his weight. he starts to lose his balance at bokuto’s laughter. “why are you guys so heavy?”

“maybe because we’re professional athletes,” sakusa deadpans, arms folded across his chest, unamused. when the three are balanced, he steps behind them, brow furrowing. “what am i supposed to do?”

“you’re the seaweed, so like…” inunaki shows him the picture for reference. “just…lie on top of hinata vertically?”

sakusa makes a face, then twists his body in a few different directions before settling on his back against hinata’s, draping himself down the middle of the stack, shirt sliding down from his stomach. “happy?” he grouses, glaring at his teammates while upside-down.

inunaki, now on a knee with his phone out to take a picture, is doing his best to hold back his laughter. “wait, wait, put your arms over your head. there’s still a bit of rice – i mean, bokuto – still uncovered.”

he obliges, and inunaki snaps a few pictures. adriah is crouched beside him, mouth wide open. “holy shit, they really do look like spam musubi.”

“instead of going for drinks, we should stay in and make spam musubi on friday,” barnes suggests. “it’ll be a fun teambuilding activity, too.”

meian nods. “i agree. the supermarket close to the gym should sell spam.”

“are ya’ll done?” miya complains. “i’m getting squashed!”

they peel off, one at a time, and then crowd around inunaki, who is uploading the post on their social media. “there.” he hits post. “we should capitalize on this, somehow. you think your brother would be open for a collab, miya?”

“maybe? musubi is kinda similar to onigiri, but you’ll hafta talk with him.” miya takes his phone out with a contemplative rub of his chin. “you’re on the right track, though. maybe there’s more we can do with this…

msby black jackals @/msby.official · just now who does it better: spam musubi, or msby musubi? tell us in the replies!

[alt text: bokuto = rice, miya = egg, hinata = spam all stacked together + sakusa = seaweed wrapping around them. they make a snack, don’t you think?]

inspiration: fanart of the msby4 stacked as a musubi <3

#flyingwargle original #drabble #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabble #post timeskip #msby black jackal #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #bokuto koutarou #hinata shoyo #meian shugo #inunaki shion #adriah thomas #oliver barnes #they're so ridiculous #i love them #my chaotic team

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kscosplaycatalog · 11 months ago

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No. 13 - 2012

Character: Ryougi Shiki (ARC Drive ver.) Series: Kara no Kyoukai by TYPE-MOON

Cosplayer Credits: - Kouma: My brother

Photog Credits: - Lauren - Kirky

==========

This was another costume ~mostly~ for my brother. He really wanted to be Kishima Kouma from the game Melty Blood (he also features briefly in Tsukihime), and showed me Ryougi. I had always wanted to make a kimono and really liked her overall design so I put a lot into this costume!

==========

I chose to use an Le Tigre Long from Arda Wigs in Dark Purple (023) because I'm using the very detailed figurine as my main reference source and it's hair is faintly purple. In most lighting, it will look dark brown or black.

I used Simplicity's kimono pattern (4080) for the cotton under kimono and main, silk, furisode kimono. Sadly, I couldn't find perfectly matching fabric for it, but I hope it's close enough (it's a poly silk). I'm not using any pattern for making the obi (brocade) though I learned how to tie the obi into a tateya musubi knot which is the knot on both the figurine and from what I've seen in her anime. I also got material for the obijime (cord from eJoyce), obiage (scarf; crepe), and obiita (simple cardboard with yarn ties).

The sword (Kanesada Kuji) is made out of pine (hilt and blade) and balsa (guard) and spray painted. Hilt is wrapped in ribbon. My dad helped me with the cutting and sanding.

For my brother's... I used the Chinese pajama pattern from Folkwear and simple black cotton. Which was also used for pretty much everything else... pants and foot wraps. We actually burned the bottom of his pants because I wanted the effect that he could actually produce fire, like in the game. I used black spandex for the gloves and just traced his hand to make a pattern.

I actually made the clasps from faux pearl buttons and scrap fabric. I kept complaining about how ridiculous Kouma's clasps were and how they don't work like normal Chinese clasps so I just set out to make them myself. And the wig is a Shaggy Wave Wig with Long Bangs in Shadow Blue from Shop Cosplay (Cosplay.com's wig shop).

==========

Ryougi: Cost: $124 Time: 7 hrs

Kouma: Cost: $79 Time: 12 hrs

#melty blood cosplay #kara no kyoukai cosplay #garden of sinners cosplay #ryougi shiki cosplay #shiki ryougi cosplay #arc drive cosplay #type-moon cosplay #video game cosplay #anime cosplay #handmade cosplay #cosplay with a prop #kishima kouma cosplay #for my brother

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maigeiko · 1 year ago

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The look of... VIII: Shimizu 清水

Historical context The first official date in the history of Shimizu Geigi is 1872, when "Machi Geisha" (まち芸者), who were distinct from "Kaku Geisha" (廓芸者), appeared. A Kenban (registry office) was established in 1877. At that time, Machi Geisha and Kaku Geisha combined were around twenty people. Only ten years later, in 1887, their number had increased to 100. The number of Geigi continued to grow.

In 1938, the number of Geigi was around 260, and they were highly regarded nationwide for their skills in art and behaviour. In 1951, a "Shimizu Geigi school" (清水芸妓学校) was opened, around 150 Geigi attending the event.

In the 1970's, Japan's period of economic growth started tapering off, interest in traditional arts dwindeled, which resulted in less work opportunities for Geigi and the number of Ryotei decreasing. In response to this, local business leaders and Shimizu Geigi started an organisation to help fostering new Geigi (Seibikai 清美会).

By 1985, their number had decreased to thirteen and the Kenban closed. In 1991, local businessmen and Geigi formed a different company (Seibi Co. 清美(株)), which worked as employer for Geigi. Due to a bad economic environment, Shimizu Odori (清水をどり) was last held in 1998, Seibi Co. was dissolved in 2004, and Haru no mai (春の舞) was discontinued in 2009. As a result of this, some of Seibi's employees became independent Geigi.

Allegedly, the number of Geigi hit rock bottom in 2011 with only two remaining. However, in 2012, around eleven Geigi worked in Shimizu. Since then, the city had a steady stream of Geigi coming and going again. At the end of this year, 2023, there are ten Geigi working in the city.

The look of Shimizu Geiko Local Term: Geigi 芸妓 ※ Hairstyle: Taka shimada, Tsubushi shimada ※ Kanzashi: Kushi, Maezashi, bekko kogai, ear of rice in the new year period ※ Kimono: Homongi, Kuromontsuki Hikizuri ※ Haneri: white ※ Obi: Taiko musubi ※ Obiage: green, pink, white, red ※ Obijime: flat, 1 knot ※ Footwear: Zori

Casual look ※ Hairstyle: Yohatsu ※ Kanzashi: none ※ Kimono: Homongi, rarely Komon ※ Haneri: white ※ Obi: Taiko musubi ※ Obiage: white, pink ※ Footwear: Zori

The look of Shimizu Maiko Local term: Shinjin Geigi 新人芸妓 ※ Hairstyle: Momoware Katsura, sometimes real hair styled (shin nihongami) ※ Kanzashi: seasonal and non-seasonal Hanakanzashi, Katsuyama, maezashi, Shidare in all age groups ※ Kimono: Furisode with shoulder tucks or no tucks at all ※ Eri: white with white embroidery, plain white, white with multicolour embroidery, other colours possible especially during summer months ※ Obi: Koken musubi ※ Obiage: flat, mostly red/silver, red/white shibori, other colours also possible (green/beige/light blue) ※ Obijime: flat or round with 1-4 knots. No obidome ※ Footwear: Zôri

Notes Shimizu was merged with Shizuoka in 2003. Shimizu Geigi and other traditional arts performers are backed by 静岡伝統芸能振興 Shizuoka dentô geinô Shinkô-kai/Shizuoka traditional performing arts promotion association, which is the successor to Seibikai. You might notice I didn't start this post with a historical b/w photo. There are some old photos on the Shizuoka Dentogeino homepage, but they are the size of a postal stamp. And that's it. I feel let down. No chance to explore the historical style of Shimizu. Anyways. "The look of Shimizu/Shizuoka" was requested by @geimaiko. The layout of this post is based on geimaiko's own. Also... geimaiko originally started these series. If you liked this post, you should go and thank her, because without her, there would be no "the look of..." ;)

Sources https://www.shizuoka-dentogeino.jp/geigi/shizuoka_history/, https://www.shizuoka-dentogeino.jp/geigi/shimizu_history/, http://www.shimizu-port.jp/geigi.html, https://www.nikkei.com/article/DGXNZO41971500Z20C12A5L61000/ (headline and preview only), https://www.youtube.com/@shizuokadentogeino/videos

Pictures: Komachi May 17, Makoto May 17, Komachi+Makoto Oct 17 (sources nowhere to be found), Sakurako+Fukutaro Apr 22, Kikuno+Umeka Nov 14, Iroha Jun 20, Iroha Oct 20, Fukutaro Oct 20, Ichiryo+Komachi+Makoto ~2016, Komachi+Sakurako Apr 18, Fukutaro+Sakurako Oct 18, Iroha+Fukutaro+Sakurako Oct 20

#mg #geisha #geiko #maiko #hangyoku #geigi #shizuoka #kimono #komachi #makoto #sakurako #fukutaro #kikuno #umeka #iroha

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kingdaddydaichi · 1 year ago

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☆ title: redefining (ch. 11) | ( ch. 10 ) ☆ ( ch. 12 - wip )

☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader

☆ wc: 2.5k

☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 11-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?

☆ warnings/notes: sfw. cop!daichi. mutual pining. angst. domestic disturbance. fear. idk like, the way daichi talks to subi might come across as patriarchal? but it's the way i feel like daichi would speak to him under the specific circumstances, how he knew he would get through to him. i am deeply sorry for the massive real-life time gap between chapters //sob. but i'm committed to finishing this series. my love for daichi and this story is settled deep inside my bones. I'M BACK BITCHES /aff ��🏼

she's falling in love now losing control now fighting the truth trying to hide but i think it's alright, girl yeah i think it's alright, girl

losin control - russ

Life can be a rip-roaring bitch sometimes, y'know?

The first week or so after your fallout with Daichi had been relatively easy. The fact that you were still angry at him helped a lot more than you'd have liked to admit. The battle to get him off your mind was constant, but all you had to do was remember the way his eyebrows angled inward when he yelled at you. You’d never seen him like that before and it had scared you, triggering your fight or flight response on top of the heart-wrenching pain of seeing him being a little too friendly with his ex.

But what you kept pushing down with all of your might was the fact that daichi was right. He had called you on everything you’d worked so hard to hide from him. The fact that he’d seen you so clearly scared you more than the look in his eyes when he raised his voice at you. He had been angry, yes. But a lot of hurt had weaved its way into his words as well.

Halfway through the second week, however, things started to go downhill. You found yourself reaching for your phone a couple of times to tell Daichi about something ridiculous or funny that had happened only for your fingers to stop short as your heart sank.

Oh. right. I'm not supposed to do that anymore.

You’d even tried venting to Suga about Daichi in hopes that he would validate you, but he wasn’t as sympathetic towards your plight as you would’ve liked: “But isn’t this what you wanted?” he'd said. “You’ve been saying that whatever the hell was going on between you two had an expiration date…” “You’re right. It’s probably better this way so you and Daichi can each find the people you wanna be with...” That last one had really dug deep - the thought of Daichi with anyone else made your heart splinter and your stomach wretch. But you had swallowed your heartache down with the lump in your throat and nodded with a meek “Yeah, exactly,” knowing deep in your bones that you didn’t mean a word of it. Suga knew it too.

The week after that was the week from hell. Crying in bed every night because you missed Daichi so much was made that much worse by your shitty week. Life could’ve just given you a normal week but NOPE. Every single day, multiple times a day, you’d pick up your phone to send him an angry text about your boss or the rude ass lady at the grocery store. Or the fact that some really, really important notarized legal documents got lost in the mail. Three trips to UPS, two trips to the post office, and $91.00 later the paperwork finally reached its intended destination via next day air. You wanted to ask him to arrest the incompetent twat who put your mailer on the wrong truck in the first place and then smile at his reaction. To top it all off, your son’s behavior had hit an all-time low. You’d been hoping that it would’ve improved after the disciplinary hearing, which Subi had attended as well but, if anything, his behavior at home had gotten worse too.

You wanted to call Daichi. You wanted him to come over and hold you as you curled into a ball against his chest. To feel his hands in your hair and his lips on your forehead telling you that ‘everything’s gonna be okay’. Because you’d believe it If Daichi was the one saying it. He’d make sure of it. But you couldn’t do any of those things and it made you cry. Like getting kicked when you’re already down.

Daichi didn’t have it much better.

He’d called and apologized to Yui, who had called him a “fucking asshole”. There was the drunk driver who had puked on him while doing his field sobriety test (he probably deserved that, he’d guessed). Then there was the day he got stuck directing traffic in a torrential downpour. The police-issued waterproof ponchos had done nothing for his wet socks and the sloshing in his shoes.

There were also all the little annoying things that kept happening to him - his washing machine quit working (mid-cycle, no less), he got a flat tire (in a different torrential downpour), he stubbed his toe one morning while getting out of bed (talk about a rude awakening) - nothing too serious but just enough to piss him off.

The worst of it was finding out his mom had to be hospitalized for Covid. She had to be on oxygen, but the prognosis was good. She was expected to be okay and eventually make a full recovery, but of course it made him worry about her nonetheless.

And through every bit of it, you were on his mind. He missed you something fierce. But some of the things you’d said still weighed on his heart:

“...how cruel can you be?” “You’re not even my type.” “Just go back in there and fuck your ex-girlfriend!”

That last one had hurt the most. Did you really think that lowly of him to think he’d do that to you?

To be fair, he also remembered some of the things he’d said to you:

“Would you have liked it better if i’d introduced you as my fuck buddy…?” “What? Not toxic enough for ya?” “...you don’t have to be a jealous girlfriend about it…!”

They made him cringe every time he remembered. Sometimes the words you had thrown at each other kept him up at night.

Tonight was one of those nights…

Daichi was reading in bed, trying to take his mind off of you when his phone buzzed on his nightstand. Thinking it must be work-related at this time of night, he picked it up to see who was calling. When he saw your name on the screen, his heart wanted to claw its way out of his chest. What could you possibly want? Best case scenario was you wanted to apologize, but that could wait until tomorrow. If you didn’t want him to make you a priority anymore, he was going to honor that. Worst case scenario was you were reaching out to him for another booty call, and he was done with that.

Either way, he let your call go to voicemail, but just as he was about to put his phone back down, your text came through as three little numbers:

911

Daichi sat bolt upright and immediately tapped the call button. Halfway through the first ring, you answered. “Daichi?” You were crying and he could hear a young man’s voice yelling in the background.

He sat forward in his seat, wide brown eyes darting this way and that. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Subi,” you cried. There was a loud bang accompanied by a muffled sob from you. “He threatened to hurt me and now he’s throwing things…”

Before you could say anything else, daichi was on his feet, throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading for his front door. “You at home?”

“Y-yes.” you were crying so hard you were wheezing. “Daichi, please…please help?”

“I’m on my way.” His voice was remarkably low and stern and comforting as he told you to go inside your bedroom, lock the door, and stay there. He made sure you didn’t have any injuries and stayed on the phone with you for the 10 mins it took for him to get there. It normally took twice that long to drive from his place to yours, but he had his blue lights on, going well over the speed limit.

“Daichi, I’m so scared,” you sobbed.

“I’m almost there, (y/n). Just five more minutes. Come on, deep breaths.” He talked you down enough that you weren’t crying as hard. “Alright, I’m here. Do you know if he’s still in the house?”

“Yeah, I can hear him. But the front door is locked.”

“Do you feel safe enough to come out of your room and open it?”

You’d heard Subi’s voice getting further away and the slamming of his bedroom door. “Yeah, I think so.”

You slowly came out of your room and hurried to the front door, nearly collapsing in Daichi’s arms when you swung it open. He hugged you and told you everything was okay. He walked inside slowly, noticing some broken glass and other, obviously thrown, objects on the floor, and called your son’s name. Your pre-teen came out of his bedroom to find a man he didn’t recognize standing in the living room.

“Who’re you?” he asked.

“I’m Daichi, a friend of your mom’s. You must be Musubi.”

Musubi narrowed his eyes at him and shrugged in response.

“What’s been going on, man?”

Your son crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s none of your business.”

Daichi’s dark brown eyes remained steady on him. “Well, seeing as how your mom is my friend and she’s scared and crying, I’d say it is my business.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s not that big of a deal-“

“Wrong again. Your mom doesn’t feel safe in her own home. That’s a problem. It’s just the two of you living here, right?”

Subi shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Then that makes you man of the house, doesn’t it?”

Your son’s eyes met Daichi’s for the first time since he first spoke to him. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And as the man of the house, don’t you think it’s your job to protect everyone in it, including your mom?”

The boy didn’t respond, but his facial muscles relaxed as he maintained eye contact with Daichi. He had his undivided attention now. He was speaking to him man to man and your son was listening intently.

“It’s a big responsibility to be in your position,” Daichi went on, nodding towards you. “Your mother and her safety are under your watch. She doesn’t feel safe with you when you’re the one who’s supposed to be protecting her.” The off-duty police officer's voice remained calm and even as he tilted his head. “So tell me, Musubi: do you really think you’re qualified to be man of the house?”

You watched and listened with awe as Daichi took command over the situation, showing Subi what it means to be in full control. He leveled with your son while making him feel validated and understood. Rather than telling Subi how he should talk to you, Daichi did far more by showing him what it means to be a good man; he was teaching Subi how to treat others with respect in the way he spoke to him - by demonstrating to him that you get respect from others by being respectable.

Your son’s gaze fell under the weight of Daichi’s words. His beliefs about what it means to be a “man” had just been challenged and shaken to the core. He thought it meant being loud and aggressive, lording over others, calling the shots and expecting others to submit to him - no doubt all the tactics he’d learned from watching his father.

“You think you’re in control here? Because, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.” The boy’s gaze followed Daichi’s as he looked around at the broken items in the room before looking over at you, still trembling and sniffling. “If you lose control, it means you don’t have it, Musubi. It’s that simple. Do we have an understanding?”

The boy’s eyes locked with Daichi’s again and he nodded.

“Good man. Now,” Daichi said with quiet authority, “Clean up the mess you made.” It wasn’t a request.

“Yes, sir,” Subi murmured as he started picking up the pieces.

You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your son’s mouth. Yes, sir? You looked up at Daichi - The Musubi Whisperer - wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Never even raised his voice and had him under his complete command.

“(Y/n), can I talk to you for a minute in the kitchen?” Daichi said it just loudly enough that your son could hear how his mother should be talked to - by asking, not demanding.

“Of course.” You followed Daichi until your son was out of earshot, then whispered, “How the fuck did you just do that?”

Daichi shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of experience. Oldest of 5 kids. Team captain. Cop.” You smiled and nodded, wiping the last of your tears away. He put a tentative hand on your shoulder. “You okay, (y/n)?”

“I think so,” you sniffed, wiping your freshest tear away with your shirt sleeve. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you, but you were the first person i thought of-”

Daichi shook his head and pulled you into his arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you called me.”

Whether it was the catharsis from the highly charged situation or your need to feel Daichi close was irrelevant when you fastened yourself to him. Before you could think, your arms were around his waist and your head tucked against his chest.

“Thank you,” you said, your shaky voice muffled by the warmth and weight of Daichi’s arms wrapping tightly around you.

“If it happens again, call me again. If you need anything at all, call me,” he said, rubbing your back. This was the Daichi you’d known all along and fucking hell, you missed him.

You tightened your hold around his waist. You were so immensely relieved to hear him say that. Maybe he still wanted to be the one you called. Just maybe he wanted to be the one you needed.

“I will,” you said, nodding against his chest.

Before he left that night, he shook Subi's hand. “Take care of your mom.”

“Yes, sir.” Holy hell, there it was again. Daichi hadn’t even told him to call him sir. Leastways, not with words. How did he do that?

“Do I have your word?” Daichi asked, squeezing Subi’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, I’ll stop by in a couple days to see how things are going," he looked at you, "...if that's okay."

Your son’s lips pursed as he fought back a smile as he watched you nod. “Okay.”

After Daichi left, Subi said, “You should find a guy like him, Mom.”

Your mouth dropped open, your heart skipping a million beats. Your son had no idea who Daichi was, what he did for a living, or the highly complicated nature of your relationship with him. Finally, you smiled and said, “Yeah? He’s a good guy, huh?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “He’s alright.”

Your son turned to you with his shoulders slumped and tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Your body shook with tears as you nodded against his shoulder. “I know, baby. I love you so much.”

Subi squeezed you tighter as he told you he loved you too.

ch. 10 ☆ ch. 12 (wip)

series mlist | daichi mlist

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idontplaytrack · 6 months ago

Text

Birthday baby

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader(+ big sis Regina & Cady)

Warnings: MDNI, smut. Coarse language, fluff

Reader, Janis, Regina and Cady are in Hawai’i. Read part other parts here <3

“I still cannot believe you did this, Reg.” You glanced at your sister.

“Really? You are in Hawai’i and you’re just saying that?” Regina laughs, “Believe it, enjoy it.”

“Well it’s fucking expensive, that I believe.” You said back, brows raised briefly.

Regina squints at you, “It wasn’t bad at all, y/n. Stop your worrying, please, baby. Wait till you find out where we’re going for Christmas.”

“What?” You looked at her, utterly confused.

She laughs, “Relax, we’re in Hawai’i. Forget about your troubles, have fun. Feel the breeze in your hair, sand in your toes and eat so much Spam Musubi that you can’t even imagine eating any more.”

“Since when did you become an ad for this destination.” Janis snorted, laughing. She sits down next to you, handing you a glass of water. You accepted it, mumbling a ‘thank you’.

“I’m just trying to get her out of her own head. You got better ideas?”

“You all know I do.” Janis shrugs, scoffing.

“I’m gonna stop you right there, ‘Imi’ike.” Regina’s eyes widen for a second as she took a swig of her soda. Cady was happily laying on the couch with her head in Regina's lap, "I think we should go out for lunch. Now that all of us are well-rested."

"Sure!" Janis agrees, Regina did as well.

You blocked a burp and was absolutely not prepared for what happened next. An intense wave of nausea washed over you and you ran to the bathroom to spill your guts. "Well, shit." Regina was shocked. Janis trailed after you to ask how you were doing. "Didn't have to be that disgusted."

"I don't know what the hell that was." You admitted, hearing her walk into the bathroom, "I feel absolutely fine, I swear. Just been bloated and feeling absolutely crazy— oh God. I did not bring any pads."

"We'll go get some, it's alright." She helps you stand up straight. You went to rinse out your mouth after flushing the toilet.

"I wanted to swim." You sulked.

"We'll be here two weeks, we have plenty of time, honey." She says with a chuckle and rubs your back.

"I've never had this happen before." You told her while the two of you walked out.

"Are you okay?" Regina and Cady asked, watching you with concerned eyes.

"Guess so, my period's starting soon I think." You shrug, "I think I'm just gonna go nap for a bit. You guys go ahead and have lunch."

"Are you sure? We'll go grab you the stuff you need first. Let's go to the Target nearby." Cady looked at Regina, then Janis. You only shrugged and headed for your bed, flopping onto the mattress face down.

"I know what she uses, we can go." Janis volunteered.

"Okay, let's." Cady nods, "We'll be back soon." "Alright." Regina acknowledges, "Drive safe."

"I'll be back before you know it, babe." She walks over to you and kissed you on the head. You grumbled, "Okay." You hear them leave right as the fatigue took over and you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up again, it was a couple hours later. They were back from lunch, and brought you some food from the place they ate at. You spotted the bag on the dining table that they were sat around, chatting away. Janis notices that you were up first, "Hey, feeling any better?"

"A little. Did you get Midol?"

"Sure did." Cady confirms, retrieving the pink and yellow box from a plastic bag, "Here." You took it from her and went to pour yourself a glass of water so you could swallow the pill. "Thanks, you guys."

"Eat something after you take that, okay? The food's still warm."

"I will, Reg. Thanks."

"And later, after the meds have kicked in, we're taking you to the beach because why not? It's gorgeous, you'll love it."

"Would be nice." You nodded in agreement.

————

“You guys are so cute, it’s disgusting.” Regina smirked.

Janis tried not to laugh, but did anyway. “We’ll that’s love for ya, thanks for convincing me to come back here. It’s been much needed.”

“Hey, I’m not all bad.”

“I know that now.” Janis says back quietly.

“Also, it was either get the hell away from Chicago or June hounding on us all summer long.”

“She’s still being difficult?”

“I want to change our numbers and all, but that costs money. She should know to stay away— we’ve made that clear. We shouldn’t have to resort to that.” Regina sighs unintentionally, watching you and Cady build a sandcastle and laughing without a care in the world. “As long as she’s still with Carmelo, we’re not letting her back into our lives. That guy doesn’t give me any good vibes whatsoever.”

The ravenette nods, “I’m with you on that.”

“You don’t wanna join them?” Regina asks her.

“I’m good, had my fun. Now I just want to sit here and take this all in. Things have changed around here.”

Regina looks at her, Janis could feel the blonde’s gaze, curious.

“I mean, obviously. It’s been over ten years since I last came here. But I remember how different it was— a good different. It’s beautiful, but I can tell the harmful effects things like tourism has had on my home. I don’t hate tourists, just those ignorant ones that get too close to wildlife, crushing and destroying the nature. Okay? How many of those have we run into already. Just— never mind.”

“Not never mind. I hear you, the land is important, to you, to your family. To your people. Cady and I didn’t even want to come here, I just wanted y/n to be around so that you and y/n had another pair of eyes to watch out for her.”

“I don’t mind you and Cady being here, you guys understand. You’re her family and Cady’s your girlfriend. She obviously knows what not to do while here unlike those chuckleheads we passed by today.” Janis added on. “It just sucks a little that she got sick just now. But I’m glad she seems better now.”

“PMS can be rough. Though I’ve never actually seen her throw up from the bloat.” Regina revealed, “I guess hormones can make things very unpredictable.”

“Her appetite’s okay, though. At least she’s eating and she’s in the mood to go sightseeing, have some fun.”

“I’m glad.” Regina agrees, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay if I don’t think about my mom and my sister. But let’s face it, I’m sad because I’m here. And I’m reminded of them because I’m here.” Janis admitted, “Therapy this, therapy that. Once I’m back here, I still feel it all over again.”

“That’s…understandable. They’re people that are so important to you.” Regina said, “The reason why I planned this trip was to replace the negative emotions you have related to this place, with positive, happy memories with the one you love.”

“I know, and I really appreciate it.” Janis sighs, “It’s helping and I just need more time here to get used to being here even. But it’s been great. So great. So…thanks.”

Regina flashes her a crooked smile, “She learning Hawaiian?”

“Little bit. I love that she is. She doesn’t have to, but it means a lot even if it’s just basic words and phrases. It’s not easy, I myself am not entirely fluent.”

“That’s cute.” A proper smile forms on her face as she turned to face the front again, “I think we should head back soon, get something to eat.”

“You and Cady can stay longer, no problem. Me and y/n can go back to the hotel first, I’m feeling like cuddling with her for a bit then have dinner.”

“If I catch you fucking—”

“Ugh, no way.” Janis rolled her eyes, “I would never let you know. Besides, she’s not feeling too well. Why the heck would I even think of doing anything like that?”

“I don’t know. It helps with cramps?”

“Shut up.” Janis laughs, standing up and dusting herself off. She approaches you and Cady, “Hey. You wanna head back soon, honey?”

“Yeah. Sure.” You looked up, meeting her eyes. She smiles, then sat down with you. Regina came up to you guys too a minute later and joined in. “It’s so beautiful here, Jan. I love it here.”

“I know.” Janis smiles to herself, “I’m glad I could be here with you. It means the world to me that I get to share this with you.”

You looked at her, giving her a similar smile in response, “Let’s go in a minute, okay?”

“Of course.” She rubs your back, the smile still on her face.

"Hey, did you guys get any chocolate?"

"I did." Janis tells you, "You've been wanting to try those chocolate coated macadamias, so I did get some of those and the ones you usually like."

A few minutes later, you decided you had enough outdoor-time for the day and headed back to the hotel with Janis after saying bye to Cady and Regina. "Wait— you want me to pick up dinner on the way?"

"Sure, whatever sounds good, I guess? We have some stuff we got from Target that we could eat too."

"You mean the bread and the cashew butter? That's a snack." Regina stifles a laugh, "Cads and I will pick up some food on our way back, but if the bread's all she feels like having, that's better than nothing."

You kicked your flip-flops off once you entered the room. Then, it was straight to bed. Janis chuckles at the silliness, "You okay?"

"Why am I sad?" You say, voice unclear since you had your face in the mattress.

"Because...hormones are being mean?" Janis joked, sitting down in the spot next to you. You laughed, rolling over so you could look at her. The more you looked at each other, the more the mood shifted. "You want a kiss?" Janis asks knowingly.

You giggled, nodding.

She bent down and presses her lips to yours. You frowned when she pulled away. Janis chuckles at your expression, "Why are you so cute?"

"I dunno." You shrug.

Her palm rests on your torso, the slight warmth and contact comforting. But it wasn't long before your thoughts took a sinful turn. "Shit." You cursed, shaking your head as if to get rid of them. Her palm began to rub your skin, allowing the heat from it to be felt more obviously. It soothed your cramps somewhat, but it was not helping your...need.

"Hey, Jan. I know Reg told you not to, but could we—"

"Since when do I listen to Regina when it comes to something like making you feel good?” Janis smirked cheekily, “You sure?”

“Yes!” You nodded eagerly, “PMS is making me feel like a feral animal.”

The brunette laughs, the motion of her palm continues. Slowly, it starts to move lower. A harsh exhales comes out from your nostrils in anticipation. At the same time, she leans down and started to kiss you once again. “Shift?” She nudges you lightly, you pushed yourself up so that you were fully on the mattress. Janis follows suit.

“What if they come back—”

“They’re supposed to be next door. Serves them right if they barge in here without even knocking.” Janis smirked, cupping your cheek as her lips move in sync with yours.

“Fuck.” You laughed into her mouth. She squishes your cheek playfully and was then deepening the kiss.

“God, I love it when you cuss.” Janis chuckles lowly, it sends a shock down your spine that travels to the juncture between your legs.

A chuckle escapes your lips, staying connected to hers as you held her face in your hand too.

Janis hands start to undo your jeans’ buttons and pull it down along with your underwear. You lifted your hips and let her do so. Janis says with a laugh, impressed, “Holy shit. You’re soaked.”

You scoffed, “Get used to it. I can never do anything for myself in the apartment. The walls are so fucking thin Regina will hear it in seconds.”

“But we’re alone now.” Her fingers tease your folds skilfully, making you squirm as she’d expected. It didn’t take her long to decide to slip her finger inside you, strongly hooking it up to stimulate your sensitive spot deep inside.

You bite down on your lip, still apprehensive about making noise despite the privacy.

“It’s just us here.”

“I know.” You laughed, “But—”

“It’s fine, they won’t be back too so soon.” She assured.

“Goddamn.” You huffed, a strangled whine comes out of you. Janis smiles, contented, sliding lower, and lower.

“Oh my God—” You cursed, back arching.

“Oh, my God!”

Your eyes snap open, that voice. “Fuck!” You cursed, grabbing a pillow of all things to cover up your bottom half.

“Oh, my God, I thought you were—”

“I’m fine!” You exclaimed, cheeks immediately flushed with a red tint.

“Get out!” Janis yelled, still suspiciously close to you.

“I’m sorry!” She replied in a panic, “Dinner’s on the table. Bye, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

“Stay away.” Janis sighs, exasperated, “Please. Regina’s not going to take this—”

“Take what?”

“Fuck’s sake!” You screeched, running to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Regina cackled, “I knew it. y/n you should totally top her and show her how it’s done.”

“Leave me alone.” You hollered.

“You poked the bear there, George.” Janis shrugs. “Couldn’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry!” Cady apologised again, “I didn’t expect this. She wasn’t feeling well so I thought she’d be asleep and you’d just snuggle with her or something.”

“It’s true, that’s what you told me.” Regina smirked.

“Well it’s now clear that she wanted more, isn’t it? Get out. Go back to your room.” Janis shooed them away, “It’s not like you give her any privacy at home to do anything if she needs to.”

“I don’t judge.” The blonde shrugs, “I may know what she’s doing but I didn’t say she couldn’t satisfy her own needs?”

“G, let’s go.” Cady tugs on her hand, “Good night, bye.”

“Of course.” Regina smiled at Cady, “Let’s go.”

“You’re gonna fuck too, aren’t you?” Janis snorted, trying not to laugh.

“Oh my, God. Guys!” You shrieked, “Seriously?!”

Regina and Cady finally scurried out of the room, leaving you and Janis alone finally. Janis opens the bathroom door without knocking, to check on you.

“I’m…fine.” You exhaled harshly, “Frustrated, and embarrassed but fine.”

“We’re alone now.” She walks in, “I can help you…finish.”

You chuckled, “Well, I— are they really?”

“I don’t wanna know.” Janis says with her brows raised, “What I wanna know, is how I can bring that smile back onto your face. I don’t want you to go to sleep upset tonight, baby.” She walks back to the bed as she speaks to you. “Get out of the toilet.”

————

Her lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple, making you moan aloud. She laughs against your skin, making you whimper. “So cute…” She cooed, “Does that feel good, honey?”

“Yeah.” You nodded quickly, not wanting to piss her off and stop.

Janis’ mouth kept at it, she knew you loved her playing with your tits like that. Sometimes she was confident she could make you unravel just by sucking on them. She wasn’t wrong.

“Sit up.” She says, mouth detaching from you. You didn’t resist, so she just pulls you up by the hand. She sits in front of the headboard, legs apart, telling you to sit in between them, “Come on, baby. Sit here.” Once you sat down, her hand slides down your front, fingers finding its way back inside you, steadily pumping in and out. Her free hand fondles with your tits at the same time, the combination of these gestures quickly sent your head spinning. When her fingers hit a particularly deep spot, your back arched, pushing her fingers even deeper. “Shit.” You cried out. The most intense part of it all, was this new position. This intimacy was causing you to feel insanely shy. Janis was living every single moment of it, doing anything to make you feel good and keep making those sweet, sweet noises for her. When her lips end up behind your ear and trailing down your neck. You lost it, moans becoming obscenely loud, curse words spewing from your lips with no end, her name repeated over and over like a chant as the pleasure build and build to the brink of letting go. You were sweaty from the weather(the humidity, honestly), but you were so far gone, you could only care about chasing your high.

“Oh, yeah. Keep going.” Janis chuckles into your ear, the vibrations sending electric shocks down your back, her encouragement making you cry out her name again along with a ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ that she adores. Sucking at a spot along your shoulder, Janis leaves a mark, but shit she draws out the loudest moan of the night from you that even startled you.

“You’re so close, aren’t you baby? I feel it…” She purrs, “Soaking the sheets, my hand, you’re throbbing and clenching. I love the way all that feels to me. I bet you’d want to come right now, don’t you, pretty girl?”

You whined, then nearly cried. Licking your lips, you squirmed and yelped when she swatted your pussy. “Fuck— Jan— oh my God!”

Your chest heaved as she did that, then she pressed her thumb down on your clit, you feel the pulsating intensify. A pathetic whimper falls from your lips as she tells you to hold it. Your head falls back on her shoulder, you take a deep breath that was shaky as she removed her thumb, sliding that palm to the side to caress your inner thigh.

“Hold it, my love.” She whispers, kissing your shoulder blade fleetingly, then she was sucking at your neck again in that one spot.

“Fuck…” You panted, whine after whine flies out of your mouth. “Fucking tease.” You grumbled.

“You love it.” She continues massaging that little area of your inner thigh, fingers teasing your clit eventually.

You did love it. Of course she was right.

But it was starting to get unbearable. You could not hold it for much longer. “Please, please— please, I’m gonna c—”

She purposely twisted your nipple between her fingers and it caught you so off guard you actually screamed, “Oh my God— please. I need to come, Jan.”

She hums and you feel her shrug, you took that as your permission to finally let go. But what she does shocked you, the girl was mercilessly rubbing your clit which ignited a different sensation within you that you had no chance of fighting. Unraveling, no— squirting, for the fucking first time in your life, you naturally fall back against her for support as you breathed raggedly, desperately trying to catch your breath. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you feel her push her fingers back inside you to help you ride out this crazy high.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it.” She laughs, proud. “That’s it, pretty girl. Such a good girl.”

“I’m gonna come again if you keep talking.”

You could hear the grin in her voice, “Do it, you know you want to. I know you can.”

“You’re crazy. You know that?” You said, words coming out in pants as you entirely relied on her to stay seated.

“Hey.” She chuckles right by your ear again, “Your sister didn’t call me pyro-lez for nothing.”

You wanna talk sinful? This was sinful. Her actions, your noises, your thoughts. Everything about this situation seems so forbidden and ridiculous, it was making you so high on the feeling of chasing your high. Again.

“Come for me, honey.” She smiles, the motion of her fingers growing sloppy once she feels you getting close again. The squelching noises echoed through your ears and the room, making a dizzy smile creep onto your face. “Give me one more.”

You nodded vigorously, “Coming— oh my God— mm— mm, fuck— I—”

Your legs clamped shut on reflex but she held you open, whimpering almost pitifully, tears were brimming in your eyes. You were trying your hardest not to cry. It felt good, so fucking good but did you want to cry? No.

“Fuck yeah.” Janis turned your head to capture your lips into her own, “That was so fucking perfect.”

You laughed, nearly in delirium. “Are you trying to make me not walk at all tomorrow or what?”

“No, but I couldn’t stop so soon once I heard those pretty noises from your mouth.” She smiled, gazing into your eyes lovingly, “You feel okay, though?”

“Yeah, I feel great.” You told her, kissing her back. “Sleepy though. Maybe go easier on me next time.”

“That was so hot, though.” She giggles cheekily, “Can’t believe I made you sq—”

You shushed her, “No, no, no. Do not say anymore of that.”

“Okay.” Janis hums in agreement. She slid away from behind you and let you lie down.

“Wanna take a shower with me?”

“The sheets need to be changed.”

“Oh what an awkward conversation that will be with room service.” Janis chortled, you looked at her horrified.

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