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yeosbbm · 1 year ago

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Since Way Back…

Smut | MDNI

starring: toxic! wooyoung x moving forward! reader

genre: smut, reconnecting, exes to lovers, pinch of angst

summary: Wooyoung had a lot on his plate and due to feeling overwhelmed broke up with you, soon after seeing you out with someone else… he realizes he never really was over you..one of his attempts to win you back leads to you and him together in a hotel bed.

warnings/prevs: wooyoung toxic more so toxic in a sense he won’t let go, mirror sex, mentions of drinking, mention of masturbation, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, protected piv

A/N: hey guys this week I haven’t been feeling well so the push it series has been paused, but a yunho fic will be out tmr LOVE YALL ! ciao 🫶🏾

“I feel like this is just what’s best for us you know?.”

Like a scene out of a terrible romance movie, he invited you over and you both drank coffee. The conversation started with a bland “how are you” “where’ve you been” exchange..you knew something was up within the past 3 months. Then he says it..crushing you. You had to keep yourself from dropping your cup and crying.

“I think we should break up..I just can’t pull you into everything that’s going on with me…I feel like this is just what’s best for us you know ?.” You sat wordlessly, biting your lip as if it’d burst. You both got through it, talking it out and sharing a last final embrace before you left the dorms.

He was able to date you through company policy but unable to be seen with you. Having to make you sign an NDA as if you were a painful secret. That with schedules, exhaustion, his mental, and life in general. He didn’t want you to get caught up in it. He didn’t want to press his stress and burdens onto you..and he felt that it was unfair. Unfair that he has to secretly refer to you..unfair you two can only go out if it’s dark out..unfair he can’t post and gloat about you, unfair he can’t love you how you deserve..so he thought it was best to let you go.

It’s been 6 months. You’ve had to piece yourself together. You got a new job as a brand ambassador, you have a workout routine, you go on walks/jogs now, you journal, you’ve been going on dates..though your feelings for them are short lived and still don’t compare to him yet.

“Healing” phase as most call it. Tonight you have another date that you met through a mutual friend.

You have on a black slip dress, light makeup and some cute wedges. You walked into the restaurant and search around for your date. You find him and you both talk and eat. However, it just wasn’t clicking. The conversation felt so one sided and it was as if he cared more about taking you home with him than getting to know you.

And of course, as if the universe wanted to play a funny but horrid joke on you two, Wooyoung walks into the same restaurant. He’s with San and Yeosang..they’re dressed somewhat smart but not anything too loud or else they’d be recognizable.

Wooyoung, looks around the restaurant with its low white light helping with the dim and minimalist design. Luxury but somewhat, bleak. However, something was pulling at him..his intuition made him seek something out. His eyes scan across the space, eyes darting across the many tables and people. Finally as if a blackhole controlled his vision… sucked all of his attention and gaze onto you.

His heart caved in. Seeing you there, your presence and beauty putting him in a state of pain and adoration. A peaceful harmony that gets squashed once he sees your plus one. You’re touching that guys arm..you’re smiling at him ? Wooyoung sees this guy’s gaze drinking you in, the same way he used to. He doubts that this guy sees the things he saw in you though.

Yeosang notices Wooyoung’s stare and his pause at the dining room entrance, “Everything ok ?” Yeosang whispers to Woo.

“Yea yea let’s find the table.” Wooyoung says with a shake of his head beginning to walk off.

San nudges Yeosang and lightly points over to your table. “Fuck..did you know she’d be here.” San shakes his head with his eyebrows raised in mutual surprise.

Later that night, you went home alone luckily after coming up with an excuse good enough to not go home with your date. Then you get a notif from “Kpop News” about an ateez member sighting and realize Wooyoung was just at the same restaurant…

Wooyoung couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned; memories of you kept invading his head.

Your laugh, your love and care, the inside jokes and how your presence calmed him. A painful twinge hits his chest. Your curves, legs, lips..the way you cried out his name and how he’d have you shaking. He looks down and sees the tent in his pants. He had to relieve himself in the shower.

-The Next Morning-

“….Roses..?” You stare at the bouquet that was at your front door and inspect it. It was a beautiful combination of red roses, baby’s breath and black lace bows. You see a notecard stamped to the wrapping reading, “You looked lovely last night, hope you’re well.” You quirk a brow and assume your date was the one who sent it.

“Last night was nice and the roses are beautiful.” You texted and got a quick reply back.

“Roses ?”

You think he’s probably doing a little joke about not knowing about the roses but then you get a text, assuming it’s him admitting to his ruse but no, it’s from an unlabeled number.

“Did you get the flowers ?”

“Yess but who is this ?” Your mind ponders on who could send them anonymously, and which date would go out of their way to surprise you like this. Then it clicks, and your heart stops and you stare at your phone incredulously.

“Wooyoung ? …”

“Can we talk or can I see you sometime.” Sent . Wooyoung put his phone down without the screen facing up. He’s in the middle of a meeting with the members. Yeosang can sense what’s up. “A flower bouquet is bold…don’t you think” Wooyoung quits biting his nails and looks up at Yeosang annoyed. “I’m not getting back with her we just need closure.”

Translating to, he needs to see you again because watching you give yourself to someone else is eating at him. “Closure ? Sending roses is not what closure is,,” Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders, “So ?” Yeo rolls his eyes and begins to rub his forehead. “It’s ok to want her back Wooyo but be honest with yourself.” San reassures while patting his back.

“ You guys don’t understand...that guy she was with….absolute sleaze.” Wooyoung tried his best to hide his frustration.

“That doesn’t mean interfere with her love life now after 6 whole months..”

“Plus you’ve had your share of sleazy girls since then.” San carefully reminds Woo.

“ First of all there’s been one girl and it lasted 4 days max she was rude and showy and full of herself and…ANYWAYS.” How stressed he is has fully became transparent. “I just think she needs someone better and not as lame or boring..(like me).”

“What.” Yeosang clocked the last part immediately, his bestfriend was down bad.

Ding. You replied to Woo’s message. Wooyoung and Yeosang looked up at each other. “Well…answer her.” “Shit. What if she said no.” Woo covers his face with his hands “Then you’ll have to leave her alone.” Woo checks it, and makes a face of confusion. “She said ‘Meet and talk about what.”

You sat there staring at your phone and sigh. It’s not the first time Woo has interacted since the break up. He’d check on you every now and again. It is sweet but would sometimes make your chest hurt all over again.

You’re torn on meeting with him because the chances of you bringing your hopes up and it being a disaster, as well as it being better than you thought but the possibility of getting lost in old emotions and ruining your progress.

Fuck it.

“You have to respond to get a solid answer.” San chimes in.

“Well should I tell her just to talk and something to drink or-”

Ding.

“She- she texted again” Wooyoung stares at the notification appalled.

“…well…..LOOK AT IT ?” San says while whacking Woo on the shoulder. All Wooyoung did was stutter and fumble his phone.

“Jesus Christ Woo.” Yeosang whispers sliding his hand down his face, exhausted from the ridiculousness. Yeosang picks up the phone and raises his brows.

“She said you could meet her, you need to choose the time and place.”

Hongjoong begins scolding the trio of guys for having a sidebar convo during the meeting. Whilst Hongjoong is lecturing them, Woo mentally starts planning for the date.

-The Date-

Wooyoung chose for you to meet him at this newer restaurant. He actually put a lot of thought into the meet. He sent you a dress a few days before once again leaving a note. “Can’t wait to see you in it.”

You were surprisingly excited about the date. You initially dreaded it because you couldn’t tell if when you saw Wooyoung if you’d cry or want to punch him in the chest. Plus the day before the you and your previous date got into a heated hurtful argument that had you emotional. So maybe seeing Wooyoung will help you feel better.

You walk into the restaurant early, needing time to prepare for seeing him face to face again. You talk to the hostess, “Hello I’m here for a reservation under the name Jung Wooyoung.” She types it out on her server, “Oh ! Yes, your plus one is already at the table.” God. You walk to your table and see Wooyoung sitting there.

He looks terribly handsome. You’re hoping you don’t look like a hopeless dope staring at him. You both chirped quick hellos to each other, Wooyoung is smiling which of course, is so contagious you smile as well. You take a seat and can smell his cologne. “You look gorgeous,,I’m glad you came to see me.” You fix your hair a bit and adjust yourself in your seat, all you can do is utter a “Thanks.” Your nerves were killing you and Wooyoung could tell. “Are you nervous..I know it’s been a while but it’s just me.”

You shrug and cross your legs. Wooyoung uses your lack of attention on him to stare at your body. He knew this dress would be the best fit. “Idk I guess I’m not sure how to feel about seeing you again.” You look up to see Wooyoung staring he’s observing you. He quickly grabs his glass and gestures the waiter over to pour you both a drink. “I understand what you mean…I’m nervous too…when I saw you a few days ago my heart dropped to my feet.” You remember the headlines about him being at the same restaurant.

He passes you your drink and takes a firm hold of his. He lifts it up. “But, anyway,, cheers to us getting over our fears.” Your heart isn’t speeding due to you finally relaxing. Wooyoung still looks handsome, flashing his prince like grin towards you. “Cheers.”

- Time skip -

It has been hours and you and Woo were still at the restaurant. Drinks upon drinks have been poured for you both but luckily, neither of you were drunk. Even little phases of being tipsy has passed. You guys talked about everything and reminisced about the past. The physical distance between you closed while you sat directly by him. This is the best conversation you had at a date in months.

Wooyoung was finishing a joke up before you both broke out in laughter you leaning into him and hiding your face in his shoulder. This made his heartthrob and he’s back to staring at you with heart eyes, you’re too caught up in your laughter to notice of course. You two’s laughter finally settles while you both returned to sipping your drinks.

“So..what about that guy…that you’re with.” You look up from your now half empty drink and squint. “Guy I’m with ?…I’m not seeing anyone ?” Wooyoung bites his lip and taps his hand on the table. “The guy at the restaurant.”

The argument you had with him the other day replays in your mind “..yea I don’t think I want to talk about him.” Wooyoung’s hand that’s next to your’s fully slides over on top and lightly squeezes. “If he did anything to you know I’ll ask the guys if-” You take your other hand from your drink and place it on his shoulder. “Wooyoung no, no we just got into an argument..we just didn’t mix well.” Woo relaxes a bit.

“What was the argument about..if I can be nosy…” You want to call his question nosy but you know you REALLY had to vent. “He thought we were taking things too slow, so stupid, we argued at a drive in and I cried. Ugh.” Wooyoung has to keep himself from clenching his jaw and balling his fist, the mere thought of someone talking to you sideways still angers him. “You don’t deserve that at all that guys a damn idiot.” However, through his anger he realizes this is a great opportunity plus when you two were together he’d always use humor + flirting to cheer you up.

“I remember when we argued I never made you cry..except you know every now and again.” Wooyoung smirks a bit. “You never made me cry when fighting what do you mean.” You laugh while trying to remember when he made you have anything but happy tears. Wooyoung leans back, manspreading his hand on your knee. “I mean in bed….”

A flash of heat runs across your face, you can’t tell if it’s from the margarita or flashbacks. Flashbacks of you falling apart on his dick and becoming a pliant mess for him. Tears welling in your eyes from pleasure while being praised by him.

Wooyoung’s eyes are on you and he licks his lips. You attempt to ignore his stare. “Of course that’s what you meant.” You turn your head away and wave the waiter over to bring another drink. Wooyoung is tracing light shapes into your knee and upper thigh, something you haven’t noticed till now and once again..must ignore.

Wooyoung sees the look on your face..it’s a face he knows all too well. When you’re starting to get needy.

“Is he as good.” Woo’s head is tilted and a sly smile plastered on his face. “At what..as a person..no he’s super shallow and lowkey is a fuckboy but..” You pause because of Woo’s chuckle.

“What’s so funny.” You’re smiling but heavily curious. “I mean is he as good as me…does he please you.” You feel another flash of heat, you adjust yourself on your seat and now realize how close you and Wooyoung are in this booth seat. You’re a leg movement away from being propped on his lap. “Mm we never really got to…you know.”

Wooyoung looks overjoyed to know you didn’t let him hit. A grin is now plastered on his face. “It’s not like he could handle you anyway..pussy would’ve destroyed him.”

You both laugh and lean into each other. “No but seriously, it’s not like anyone can do it like me.” You roll your eyes and sip your new drink. “Oh really.” Wooyoung’s hand on your knees gradually gets higher up. “Yes really I mean..I’d have you shaking from my hands alone.” Wooyoung experimentally brush his hand on your inner thigh, you know that this is wrong. Letting your ex get you all hot in public and letting them play with you under the table but. Fuck it.

You opened your legs up a bit more, giving Wooyoung the green light to do as he pleases. He lightly brushes his hand up and down your cunt through the thin lingerie. After some teasing touches he finally brings his hand down your panties.

You gasp and go to reach for his hand but he swats your hand away. “Shhh don’t want everyone to see how needy you are do you.” He rolls and rubs deep circles into your bud and lightly prods your hole, but never fully bringing it in. Your breath is shaky and he starts rubbing your clit faster making a small moan tumble from your mouth. “So wet…did you miss me that bad.”

“Let’s get outta here…..please.” Wooyoung smiles and takes his hands from your panties. He then takes his phone out to reserve a room at a hotel.

-At the Hotel-

You and Wooyoung finally walk into the room, it’s on the hotels highest floor, a penthouse. Wooyoung and you are pawing at each other and kissing fervently. He removes his shoes and jacket and unbuttons his dress shirt. You slide down the straps of your dress causing it to slide down a bit further showing your cleavage.

You and him finally get into the main bedroom. It has a large king bed with blunt but warm golden lighting and a grande body mirror in front of the bed.

“You’re not drunk right ? You actually want to do this..if not I’ll take you home right now..” you shush him with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I do…I’m sober.” Wooyoung nods assured and after looking at you once over ensuring you weren’t intoxicated, he goes in for a kiss.

The kiss is deep, it felt like no time passed between you both at all. The kiss made your knees knock and consumed you with heat, the sexual tension between you two finally being broken. He takes his hands and rubs up and down the back of your thighs and slides the bottom of your dress up to your waist and grips your ass. “Go to the mirror.”

You both step over to it, your dress still pulled up exposing your lower half. You can feel Wooyoung’s bulge straining his pants behind you. Without any hesitation Wooyoung pulls your panties to the side and begins playing with your folds, taking note of the amount of arousal already pooling there.

He wordlessly pumps a single finger in a while maneuvering to play with your clit. You let out small sighs and whines. “Only I’ve seen you like this right, nobody can even get you this wet can they?” He brings another finger in, you can hear your wetness and feel the vibrations of his fingers hitting the right spot flow through you. He alternates between slowly curling and scissoring them into you to finger fucking you without mercy.

Your eyes are closed, too lost in all the feelings. They flutter back open when he suddenly removes his fingers and goes in front of you. He pops the two fingers in his mouth and sighs of satisfaction. Then he gets on his knees.

“Hold this for me baby or I’ll ruin it.” You grab the front of your dress and hold it up for him. He pulls your panties fully down before licking along your slit, stopping at your clit to playfully flick it. Your knees buckle again but Wooyoung places a hand on your calf. “No. Stand and watch us.” You look back into the mirror, your eyes are in a daze and lips are plump and swole from the constant biting out of pleasure.

“None of them make you look like that.” Wooyoung heads back into your cunt and buries his face. Lapping and messily eating you out with no neatness. You struggle holding yourself up and having to see your own eyes sinful look in the mirror. He begins to raise his hands on your hips making you grind yourself on his face.

You look down momentarily and see Wooyoung looking up at you, his eyes giving nothing but a low intent stare. You’re riding his face and he sucks and tongues down your cunt, occasionally bringing a single hand down to use his fingers on your hole.

Soon it all starts straining and you can feel yourself on the brink of cumming. Wooyoung already knew that tho, and stops. Popping his mouth off your clit before pulling away. Before you can protest from the edging he backs you into the bed and takes his cock out. He reaches in his pocket and takes out a condom to put it on.

He opens your legs and begins to rub the tip across your folds and tapping it on your clit making you cry out from the stimulation. “Tell me if it’s too much.” It never was too much. However, Woo was cautious and you nodded. “What’s the color if you want to stop ?” You remember it automatically, “Red.” Wooyoung let out a soft grin and coo’s “Good girl.” then Wooyoung slides his cock in and begins deep stroking. You start to moan uncontrollably, feeling that one spot inside being constantly hit and prodded by his cock. Your moans spur Wooyoung on making him fuck into you harder.

Wooyoung bends your legs to your chest and starts making deeper thrust. He leans down and brings a breast into his mouth, nipping at teasing the bud while crashing his hips into yours.

“None of them can fuck you like I can, can they ?” You struggle to say an answer from the haze of pleasure you’re in. Wooyoung grabs your neck causing you to focus. “Did they ever make you cum baby?” He says in a fake empathetic tone. Finally you control your moans and utter your truthful answer. “ Barely, none of them,,they- they weren’t you.” A string of moans fell from you as Wooyoung’s dick kissed your cervix.

“That’s right, stand up for me baby.” He pulls out which makes you let out a quiet gasp by the sudden emptiness. He brings you back to the mirror and has you lean forward, hands on the wall from each side of the mirror. Your back naturally arches from the position and Wooyoung runs his hands down your back. He makes you look into the mirror. “Look at you, so so pretty I missed seeing you like this…I think about it every night.”

The face you saw wasn’t new..before you and Wooyoung went your separate ways he managed to pull this fucked out face out of you frequently. One hand is caressing your jaw while the other is sensually running it down your back. This bent over position has you anxious for more. “Wooyoung please..I need you.” Wooyoung places light kisses on your back. “What do you need.” You’re clenching around nothing, “Show me how much you missed me.” He aligns his cock at your entrance again and plunges right back in.

He fucks into you once more this time with a consistent rhythm that makes you see stars. You can’t help but get louder practically crying on his cock. He fucks you at a pace all too familiar, your body knew it like clockwork. Then you feel the build up inside crashing down. “Go ahead baby..cum I know you can’t take it.” The orgasm washes over you, making your muscles stiffen and eyes rolled back.

He continues to fuck into you, causing you to be overstimulated and tearing up. Skin slapping and both of your moans and pants fill the room for what feels like hours. You came all over his cock again and then after a few more moments of him chasing his own high, his cum spills into the condom.

He ruts into you a couple more times to ease himself through the orgasm. He hasn’t felt a release like that in so long, his vision is blurred in a sense and he shudders. With the small bit of strength he had left he pulled you close to him and backed you both onto the bed.

After disposing the condom and a shared shower you’re both in the hotel bed nude. Wooyoung laid on his back while your head rests on his chest, legs entangled with each others. His presence causing you internal chaos and bliss simultaneously.

But then, it dawns on you..what if this was a quick needed fuck. What if it’s all the same again tomorrow and you’re back to being strangers. You decide to get your hopes down and not allow them to rise.

“So when do you plan on leaving.” You whisper. Your expectations are tomorrow in the morning he’ll be gone and fade back into the wind as someone you once knew.

Wooyoung gives a puzzled look before shaking his head. “Not until whenever you want to leave..I’m staying y/n.”

“You’re crazy..” you run a hand over your face, avoiding his gaze. He holds you tighter, “I mean it y/n, I’m back for a reason, I can’t let you go…I’ll find a way for the both of us.”

You don’t answer knowing that you’ll short circuit and become another crying mess; tears from frustration from the past few months releasing and how he’s back after months of moving forward. As well as tears of relief and being glad he’s there.

He snuggles you closer onto him and begins whispering sweet nothings and a repetitive “I’ve missed yous”. In contrast of the sweetness he also has a firm hold of your body that screams possessiveness whilst also mumbling about how no man understands you or your body like he does.

Through the silence, Wooyoung can sense you’re still awake, and begins tracing shapes on your skin again. “Before all this what have you been up to.” You laugh from the sudden calm casual question.

“Mm what’s with the sudden interview.” You joke to him with a half smile, already falling asleep. He kisses your forehead and rubs your side.

“I can’t help but wonder how you’ve been babe.”

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yl0w · 7 months ago

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PAGE 5 :: CHAPTER 1

<< PREV | NEXT >>

cover page and title reveal! both of which im going to probably redo again and again cuzz:

i have a massive perfectionism problem and i need to tell myself

"this is not going to be perfect!"

its probably going to suck ass!

more than anything, this weird comic will be a playground for me to experiment like heck. a fun place to make mistakes, and learn! the dialogue might feel cheap, the art might look scrappy, but im learning all along the way

the quality of the pages will probably fluctuate since il try my best to just. keep. drawing. and posting pages, even if i cant quite polish them

i love comics, but ive never really committed to one before. id hate to take forever to finish my first one! this is only my first, and i dont want it to be my last. :>

THAT BEING SAID: i spent a LONG time working on the lore holy shit

okay BUT WHY "RAINBOW FACTORY"?

because i love it duh! i want to use this comic to express just how aggressively that song and fanfic captured my imagination. a love letter to edgy "grimdark" fics that i never grew out of!

what do you mean "AN RF REMIX"? this isn't a song!

this story will involve all the parts of the original that made it Rainbow Factory, but it wont be a retelling of that same story. i like to think of it as a "remix" because it takes the concept of the rainbow factory and all the cool stuff about the pegasi and spectra and spins it into a different direction (which hopefully turns out to be interesting...)

that also means that none of the events that happened in the original fanfic happens here, unless stated so in this story!

(however, i will say that this story sticks closer to the lyrics of the songs, rather than the fanfics by the original author. and none of the sequels of the original fanfic are important to the lore of this story)

basically, you probably dont need to have read the original fics to understand whats going on here :v

so yea ! !

come along while i lose my mind over rainbows and horses :DD

(aaand if youve read this far i deem you worthy of a peek at the kid who kept runnig)

lyrics from "The Wolf" by Siamés

#Rainbow_Override #my little pony #mlp #rainbow factory #rainbow dash

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jaybird-baby-boy · 6 months ago

Note

YAAAA!!

Also you should read Withering Hope if you like DRMC

OOOHHH I DONT THINK IVE READ THAT ONE.... I WILL TRY TO SOON BOSS o7

#[looks it up] jade-spade??!?!?? the same jade who reuploaded redstoner?!?!??!?!???#everything is a circle it all connects oh my goddddd #<- prev tags #YEA!!! AND ITS FUCKING GOOD DAWG #YOULL LIKE IT I PROMMY

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basicallyjeankirschtein · 10 days ago

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lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 8

summary: gojo is an asshole. sukunas there for you, though (and toji)

* ooc, MDNI, mentioned dubcon (between gojo and reader) because reader was under the influence, toji being shameless(and a freak), mentioned masturbation and dacryphilia

not proofread

masterlist. prev. next

you were shocked gojo would even think about bringing that night up. even more so hurt, you guys promised to never bring that up again. and to imply that you were hooking up with sukuna? that was disgusting.

two months ago when you were beginning to introduce shoko and utahime together, shoko invited you two to a party. gojo clearly wanted to tag along, so the two of you reluctantly agreed (with shokos approval, of course).

at the party, shoko and utahime obviously hooked up. everyone could see the tension between them, and you were happy for them. but that left you and gojo alone, and after coercing you to drink much more than you wanted, the two of you ended up hooking up, as well. gojo must’ve been jealous utahime was getting more pussy than him.

you don’t remember the night at all. you were way too drunk, but gojo could strangely remember everything. you didn’t know how, considering he claimed to also be drunk.

you were tired of this disrespect. you were known to be a compliant, quiet girl. you always let others take advantage and disrespect you, but you were honestly sick of it. you’ve had so many bottled up emotions over the years of letting people walk all over you, and you think it’s finally time you stand up for yourself.

you did not hesitate to block gojo. yea, maybe he’ll tell everyone you guys had sex or whatever, but it’s not like he had evidence. you’ll just say it never happened and use your scary dog privileges (sukuna) to make him back off.

could you consider sukuna someone you could trust? he told you if gojo ever did anything, he’d be there to help. so you did consider him someone you could trust, despite how scary he was.

someone delivered your shower products just as sukuna finally reappeared.

“sorry,” sukuna said in his usual (and insanely attractive) gruff voice.

“i told toji off. he won’t bother you anymore.”

you didn’t want to know what sukuna did to make toji stop, so you just smiled at him.

“it’s okay, really.” you said, trying to sound as appreciative as possible. “could you help me with the shower? and i know you told me not to pay you back, but im going to anyway-“

sukuna grunted, his face going red once more. is it hot in here? if it was, you didn’t feel it.

“help… you in the shower?”

you tilted your head, confused why he was acting so fidgety. “if you don’t mind… i just need you to show me which direction to turn the knob to make it hot-“ you felt stupid for asking. he probably thought you were an idiot.

“oh.” he coughed, quickly pushing past you to the bathroom,

“how hot do you like it?” he asked, his face turned away from you (much to your dismay).

“i want to feel like im boiling alive.”

sukuna snorted at your response. it was cute, causing you to laugh as well.

“it’ll take a minute to heat up, just yell for me if you need anything.” he told you, still avoiding eye contact as she made his way past you and to the door.

before leaving, he called over his shoulder,

“and i told you not to worry about paying me back.”

with that, he closed the door behind him, and once again, you were alone. you made sure to lock the door behind him, not wanting toji to waltz in again like he owned the place (well, he did).

you hummed as you stripped yourself, setting your clothes down beside the towel sukuna left for you by the sink. you hated putting on dirty clothes, especially after a shower, but it’ll have to do.

almost as if toji could read your mind, he knocked on the bathroom door. this caused you to jump, a bit shocked by the sudden noise.

at least this time he knocked.

“did sukuna leave you any clothes?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff. they both had that same almost scary tone to their voice, a roughness to it, yet you could somehow easily tell the two apart.

“um, no, it’s alright.” you yelled from behind the door, covering yourself up despite the door being locked.

“need a pair?” he asked. you glanced at your used clothes, biting your lip as you pondered if you should take him up on his offer.

“if you don’t mind?” you finally responded. you got no response, only the sound of footsteps fading away.

you wondered if he was leaving to get you clothes, or if he just did that to mess with you. you scrunched your face up in confusion, this guy was weird.

you shrugged to yourself, not expecting him to come back after the fifth minute. he must’ve just been teasing, what a weirdo.

you sighed, moving the curtain to the side so you could step in the shower, and then, of course, toji knocked. tool him long enough.

“i’ve got you some clothes, doll. sorry i took a while, was trying to find some old clothes that might be smaller so they’d fit.”

you blinked, still shocked he came back. you stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around you as you quietly stepped towards the door.

as if noticing you discomfort and hesitation, toji spoke up, “i’ll leave them for you out here if you’re too shy to take them from me.”

you didn’t know if he was flirting, teasing, or mocking.

but, you knew he left because you could hear the sound of his footsteps fading away once more.

you were quick to open the bathroom door when you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, a small pile of clothes (that were definitely too big) on the ground.

you practically slammed the door behind you after retrieving the clothes, terrified one of them would see you, whining when you noticed the size. this would definitely not fit. the boxers, at least.

it was nice of him to try to get smaller sizes for you, but god, he was huge. this wouldn’t fit anybody.

you decided that would be a problem for later you, and you should instead focus on showering before you used up of their hot water.

you stepped in, once again thankful for sukunas credit card buying you the shower supplies when your gaze turned to the mystical, definitely not safe, six in one bottle of shampoo and conditioner. what were the other four, you wondered…

as much as you’d love to keep these delicious strawberry scentened products, you thought you’d be doing them a favor by keeping them here. not only did sukuna pay for them, but they probably had some unknown chemicals creating a new disease in that six in one bottle. they’d have to suck up smelling like strawberries, you said to yourself as you made a mental note to throw out that bottle, maybe burn it. you’d be doing them a favor.

while you loved to take long showers, you were mindful of their water bill and only took as long as necessary (which was still long).

you stepped out, the bathroom was steamy, you weren’t visible in the mirror. you childishly drew a smiley face on the mirror, unable to resist with a giggle.

now, the problem.

the clothes.

you couldn’t even ask sukuna for a pair of his clothes, as he was just as big as toji. either way, they’d be falling off. but, it was better than used clothes, right?

you slipped the oversized t-shirt on, the material practically drowning you. it landed just above your mid thigh, making you look small in comparison.

while you disliked used clothes, you thought it would be best to throw your bra on under it. the neck of the shirt was so loose around you, if they were to look at you from a taller angle (which, they always are), you’d be flashing the poor men.

you however do NOT want to put back on your used panties. you didn’t know why, considering it was your pussy, but you disliked the idea of wearing the same pair of panties more than once without being washed. it was just one of those little things that grossed you out.

boxers were technically underwear, right? you thought to yourself, pulling the ridiculously large pair up. they barely clung to your hip, much to your dismay.

well, it would just be tonight. you thought, trying to wiggle them up higher, but they just kept falling down your waist and to your hips. at least the shirt covered you.

you stepped out of the bathroom, the overpowering scent of strawberries following you into the living room where both men sat on the couch.

“you smell nice,” sukuna spoke, his gaze immediately wandering to your toji’s clothes. you could see the faint envy in his eyes.

“thank you,” you said with a soft smile, “you can keep all that stuff. it smells nice and it’s way better than whatever that six in one concoction is..”

“are you saying that because you want us to keep it, or because you plan on coming here more often?”

the question sprung up by toji caught you off guard. once again, you couldn’t tell if he was flirting, teasing, or mocking. he always had that same somewhat malicious tone to his voice, but as you’ve come to know of sukuna, you think that’s just how he normally sounds- rather than being rude towards you.

“both…?” you decided to answer, a bit confused with both his question and your answer. you wouldn’t mind coming to see them more, they were nice, but you weren’t sure if toji meant it in a sexual way or not.

“then i suppose i can see you in my clothes often, too?”

oh, he was totally flirting.

it seems sukuna telling him off didn’t scare toji off for long, because here he was, shamelessly flirting with you infront of sukuna.

sukuna was definitely going to beat up toji.

sukuna, not wanting to scare you, decided to bring you to his room so he wouldn’t hear him and toji arguing. he made sure to let you know that you can sleep in his room, he’d just crash out on the couch. he said you were welcome to lock the door if you felt uncomfortable, god, he had too much trust in you for a guy you just met. you were going to protest, but he was quick to shut the door behind him. as usual.

you bit your lip, looking around his room. this was awkward, you thought. you didn’t want to be the reason the two were arguing.

you felt beyond guilty for even dragging sukuna into your own mess. you should’ve just dealt with gojo yourself, you shouldn’t have even accepted his offer to help.

was it sensitive of you to cry? maybe, but you were so pent up. you still haven’t properly accepted the fact that you just practically lost all your friends.

what you needed was a good cry, and thankfully for you, they were too busy arguing to hear your small, pitiful whimpers as you hugged yourself close, finally letting yourself go after having such a terrible day.

arguing over text when they were sitting right next to each other was a little funny. but when toji admitted he was also looking to an actual relationship with you, sukuna got angry. not even uraume could help them with this argument.

the two have never fought over a girl before, neither of them were the type to be in a committed relationship.

but now, it was different.

sukuna was sure toji was only claiming that because he hated when sukuna had something he didn’t.

the two argued that night, although both were mindful to keep it down so you wouldn’t hear. although, in the midst of their whisper-yelling, sukuna noticed the sound of your small sobs.

“shut up.” sukuna growled, glaring at toji as he turned to face his bedroom door. the sound of another sob alerted him that you were in fact crying.

“shit.” toji sighed, “you go check on her.”

sukuna was shocked toji was offering for him to do it, considering toji apparently liked you and everything. he gave toji a curt nod, making his way to his bedroom and knocking.

toji could hear sukuna say ‘can i come in?’ softly as he made his way to the bathroom, his gaze immediately shifting to your used clothes discarding on the sink.

toji heard the sound of sukunas door opening and closing, glancing over his shoulder every second to make sure neither of you were coming out.

he discreetly picked up your panties, a cute lacy pair with little pink bows on the side. he stuffed the cute thing in his pocket, swiftly returning to his room.

and that night, as sukuna comforted you and you cried about your misfortunate day, toji wrapped the pair of panties around his cock and thrusted to the sound of your cries.

he came fantasizing about how you would cry on his cock

sorry i got a little freaky there…

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tinfoil-jones · 1 month ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch.24

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Special thanks to dimonds456, for no particular reason.

WARNING: Violence, sexual assault implications, and mentions of past suicide attempt

First - Prev - Last

CH.24

“Rick! That is a very sensitive device!”

“Oh come on you hayseed, don’t act like you can’t see my vision too.”

“Stanley, what is your psychotic friend doing now?”

“He’s playin’ keep-away with specs’ weird gun because he says he can ‘make it better’.”

“All I need to do is make an adjustment here- rewire there- add a crystal here andddd-. There we go. Huh, my green crystal and your blue bulb shouldn't have made the light turn red. That’s not ominous at all.”

“Rick, what are you doing?”

“I’ll show you in a minute - what did you say your real name was?”

“Stanley Pines.”

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap

“Stan, you need to stay away from him, he’s-!”

“Beep- beep, boop- Hey Stan?”

“Yea’, Ri-?”

FWOOSHBZZZZT!

“-AAAAHHHHH!!”

*Stanley suddenly falls to the ground, writhing around while holding his head*

“Stanley!”

WHACK

“Ouch! McGucket, no need to be so-.”

“Stanley, are you in pain? What hurts-? What did you do, Sanchez?!”

“All I did was reverse the function of the memory gun. All of his memories should be coming back now, you're welcome by the way.”

“You’re giving him cognitive overload is what you just did, you idjit! This is worse than if you mixed a panic attack with a mental breakdown and dressed it traumatizing as all get out!”

“Pft, you think this is bad? He’ll be fine. You should have seen him on cocaine withdrawal. Right, Stan?”

“-AAAAAAHHHMOTHERFUCKERSONOFA-”

“This is pretty close to what his cocaine withdrawal looked like.”

WHACK

“Would you stop hitting me already, McGucket? He’ll be fine once he stops bitching and moaning.”

“Ya’ll went too far this time!”

“Please, it's like ripping off a bandaid. He can handle it. He’s handled worse.”

“OH GOD I REMEMBER DYING! MY WHOLE LIFE FLASHED BEFORE MY EYES AND I REGRETTED EVERYTHING!!!”

“See? Already using his words again. You guys have been coddling him for too long.”

“MAKEITSTOP!”

“Stanley, you’re okay! Please calm down, you’re safe-”

“-...F-Ford?”

“...D-do you recognize me? Really recognize me?”

“Sixer-. what’s-? I-I don’t…”

“Finally, after all of these long months of trying, you're actually back, brother!”

WACK

“Oh- ow! What was that for?”

“That’s for closin the curtains on me ya piece of- wait I’m not mad? No, I’m mad. But- you helped me, no- you looked at me like you hated me!”

“Stanley-”

“On the street. WhenIsaw ya again- I thought, I thoughtIknewyou. I was gonna talk to ya but, the way youwerelookingatme it was like-. The same way Powers looked at me.”

“The IRS Agent?”

“You looked at me thesameway he used to and hekilledme.”

“What?”

“Hangingaround my car tooksomething I don’t know itwasthestrapcutter ohmygod I never thought he’d gosofar whywouldhedothis?”

“Stanley, you’re talking too fast, you need to control your breathing or-.”

“Geeze Stan, you’re acting like you died or something.”

“HE DID, SANCHEZ! Back off! You're not helping.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll go smoke outside while you lot talk about your feelings or whatever, talk to me when his condition changes.”

“It was supposedtobe us forever. I r-ruined it Sixer. Ruineverything. I didn’t meanto- everythingsbad and I’m aloneinmycar I want tocallMa-.”

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this Stanford but maybe you should grab that tranq gun of yours…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we don’t know what that kind of shock would do to his psyche right now. Also, I’m not risking an opioid addiction relapse, we didn’t have to worry about that when he was in the containment unit but it’s a risk now.”

“Ijustwannagohome, I just wanna- noonewantsme. Whydidntheprotectme-. Imsorry I was tooscaredtocall-.”

“He ain’t in a good way, Stanford… It’s seventeen years worth of memories all at once, I’ve heard of rapid memory retention in theory but nothing like this.”

“I know… The best we can do is to stop him from harming himself or us, until this ends.”

“He’s makin- makingmehold a sign.”

“Stanley? Who’s making you do what?”

“Pa. He justwantstogetridofme. Utter embarrassment-. Made me- made-.”

“What did he make you do, Stanley?”

“Two days, hold a sign…”

“What did the sign say?”

“Extra Stan… three dollars or better offer.”

“...”

“Your pa made him do that? That’s awful.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Huh?”

“I think I remember this, but I didn’t know it was like that. When we were younger Stanley had a very bad grade in history, and as a punishment our father made him hold a sign outside for two days. I thought- I thought it was an advertisement for the pawn shop not- not that.”

“Poor thang, no wonder he was so resistant to recalling his lost memories.”

“Stanley, can you walk?”

“Lil’ bit… head hurts-...”

“Fiddleford, I don’t want to drag him up a flight of stairs, is it alright if I put him in your room?”

“That’s fine with me, I’m fixin to go outside and give that trolls doll lookin’ megalomaniac a piece a’ my mind.”

“M’fine…”

“You need to lie down somewhere other than the floor- and we need to reduce as much stimuli as possible.”

“Fine…”

(...)

*Ford draws in the curtains of the room to block out the outside light*

“I’m really not mad at ya poindexter, I swear. Everything hit me at once and-”

“It’s okay Stanley, I know you weren’t in your right mind. You aren’t in your right mind now.”

“It’s just a headache now… S’ like my brain is an aching soup of feelings, words, and visions that don’t match.”

“I can’t believe Sanchez would-.”

“I can. When he invents something- it works.”

“Why are you not upset with him? He used an untested ray gun on you without your permission! Don’t tell me you still have feelings for-.”

“Ford. I was never in love with the guy, if that’s what’s got ya all twisted up, I’m not trying to get with him again. But I know him, I always knew he was a destructive asshole. Rick was never able to wreck himself without wreckin’ everything else around him; you weren’t the only thing that kept me in this dimension and away from him. We woulda killed each other.”

“And that excuses his behaviour? Towards you? Towards myself and Fiddleford?”

“I ain’t saying that. But it’s kinda like bein’ mad at a scorpion for stinging ya for getting to close. When you’re working with him, ya know there’s gonna be some bullshit.”

“I’m starting to see that…”

“...Are you still mad at me, sixer?”

“About Rick?”

“No. About- ya know, the science fair incident, the separation-.”

“Oh for Tesla’s sake- no, Stanley. We’ve been through this.”

“Yea’, but I didn’t have my memories, you woulda been mad at a stranger.”

“You were never a stranger to me. I knew who you were the whole time, even when you didn’t.”

“Heh, guess you did.”

“...Are you still mad at me? About abandoning you?”

“Naw. You were always allowed to live your own life, I shouldn’t have felt so entitled to you back then.”

“What about everything that happened to you afterwards? You were homeless, and you were just a kid.”

“There wasn’t nothin you coulda done, poindexter; you were just a kid too… And Pa already had a bag waitin for me. He was looking for an excuse and found it.”

“...You did recognize me when we met on the streetside?”

“Yea’.”

“Why didn’t you..?”

“Ford, ya looked at me like I owed you money. I wasn’t lookin for more trouble that day- Fucckkk-!”

“Another headache?”

“Mosesfuckingdamni-”

“Do you need anything?”

“Y-Ya gotanything for painthat isn’t a narcotic, barbiturate, or benzo?”

“I’m going to grab some tylenol, you just wait here.”

TAP! TAP Tap Tap…

*Stanley grabs a notepad on the desk and begins rapidly scribbling*

(...)

“Is he alright?”

“He’s… physically stable. He just wants to sleep right now.”

“Did you ever read those notes I wrote about rapid memory retention?”

“I’m afraid not, Sanchez only seemed interested in the removal and external storage of memories, not restoring repressed ones.”

“He’s not mentally stable right now, Stanford. He already wasn’t in the best place - he’s gotten better in no small part due to your support and efforts - but now memories that otherwise would have had established details and recalled through a filter of time, are fresh. It’s like they all just happened at the same time. I’m honestly surprised he’s not having a mental breakdown, due to the cognitive overload. We should keep him under close observation. He could lash out violently and unpredictably.”

“One of us will check him in half an hour or so. Where is Sanchez, anyway?”

“I told him he wasn’t allowed back inside, so he’s standing ‘round and waiting near the treeline.”

(...)

“Rick.”

“Ah, so you’re walking and talking already? Your brother and friend were concerned for nothing.”

“After getting us back from the Time Dimension, ya still owe me one favour.”

“Hm. What do you need, pal? You're the type to save favours for a rainy day, not use both back-to-back.”

“Teleport us to Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey.”

“What for?”

“The root of all the evil in my life, and everything bad that’s ever happened to me, traces back to there… I’m going to murder my dad. It’s the only way I’m ever going to have a semblance of peace in my life. As long as he’s still breathing, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Okay, but we’re stopping for food first.”

(...)

“Stanford, we have a problem.”

“The exterminator will be here next week.”

“Not the ant problem, when was the last time you saw Stan?”

“He was asleep in your room five minutes ago.”

“Well I popped by to check on him, and he left this note on my desk.”

“Shopping list: eggs, bread, orange juice-.”

“Oops, wrong side; turn it around.”

“Ford, I am going to kill our Pa because he is the cause of almost everything bad that has ever happened to me. Don’t try to stop me, Rick is going to portal us there.

I will either be back in time for dinner, or thirty years from now if I’m caught and arrested.

-Stanley”

“I can’t find him or Rick anywhere!”

“Oh, this is really bad… I-I can try to call our ma-.”

“Didn’t you say the rest of your family thinks Stan is dead, and you’re plumb delusional for thinking otherwise?”

“We don’t have a portal gun like-”

“Or do we?”

“Fiddleford?”

“Didja really think I was going to deal with that insufferable man for hours on end and not get anything outta it? I plucked a sample of his portal fluid while he was tryin’ to reverse the radiation effect on my memory gun.”

“How quickly can you build a gun?”

“It’s me you’re talkin’ to Stanford, fifteen minutes tops. It might take you a bit longer to synthesize the portal fluid, though.”

“Oh, identifying the chemical compounds and recreating them shouldn’t take too long, I just need to Think Fast.”

“Alright-”

“Think Fast.”

“...Oka-?”

“Think Fast! I said-”

*time grayscales and freezes from Fords perspective*

“Oh so now you don’t want to ignore me”

‘My muse you cannot give me the silent treatment and accuse me of ignoring you.’

“Don’t you ‘my muse’ me, mister! After that wish PTSD Barnum made with that dumb baby‽”

‘I did not tell him to do that, Bill.’

“But you agreed with him.”

‘It pains me to say this. Physically, mentally, and spiritually; but Stanley was right.’

“That ungrateful sack of spare parts has never been right about anything; and you choose his side over mine.”

‘I am not choosing sides, Cipher! The card is a mere insurance policy.’

“You just want to back out of our deal don’t-.”

‘Bill, you and Stanley have more in common than you’d care to admit.’

“Well duh, there's a triangle shaped imprint on his psyche.”

‘No that. You’re just as afraid of me leaving as he was ten years ago.’

“Do you think I need you, IQ? I am a transdimensional dream demon with powers beyond your mortal comprehension.’

‘You only choose one mortal every one hundred years, Bill.’

“And?”

‘You don’t want a plethora of connections; but you still seek connections. You prioritize quality, long-term, close connections, over multiple shorter team and less meaningful ones. I want to remain your friend, Bill, but you are too controlling and have little sense of boundaries.’

“Boundary‽ I am in your head! I know everything you know, think, and feel!”

‘But you’re not human, Bill. You think differently than us- even in my body you don’t experience stimuli the same way as me!’

“Oh, is this about rolling down the hill of stinging nettle, again? I said I was sorry!”

‘It isn’t just that! The jar of spiders, jabbing a dart into my forehead, harassing the police- or, how about the time you tried to nail my hand to a desk?! If Fiddleford hadn’t been there to stop you-.’

“What's the big deal? None of those things caused permanent damage.”

'But it did, Bill. After you’re done, I’m still left with the fallout; the pain, the scarring, being a social pariah. I understand you don’t process pain the same way, but damn it Cipher I do!'

“...”

‘I still want you as my friend, my partner, my muse. But I can’t be the only one trying to manage my behaviour, and compromise. Wouldn’t you prefer that I stay because I choose to?’

“...You’re not going to use that card the second I do anything weird?”

‘You know I prefer to talk things out in a constructive manner, Bill.’

“...Alright, let’s go over these chemical compounds together. That hilarious crossover character may think he’s a god, but he’s never dealt with a dream demon.”

‘How much mental time can you buy us in fifteen real-world minutes?’

“You know me, Fordsy, we can go at this for days.”

‘Good. Who knows what type of damage Stanley and Sanchez could do with a head start like that.’

(...)

“-so that’ll be a McRib meal, a 10-piece Mcnugget meal, two cokes, and- hey Stan, what kind of dipping sauce do you want with your nuggets?”

“My fathers blood.”

“...And buffalo ranch dipping sauce. Are we half-and-halving the bill, or are you going to cover us next time?”

“Rick!”

“Fuck, fine, I’ll get us this time. And calm your C-cups, tough guy. Your dad isn’t gonna be less killable in fifteen minutes.”

(...)

*Filbrick tosses a trash bag into a dumpster in the alleyway behind Pines Pawn, but pauses without turning around*

“Who’s there..?”

Tap…

“...Stanford?”

“Close, but no cigar.”

“...I’m seeing things, you can’t be-.”

“I’ll give you the first shot free, old man.”

“What?”

“I don’t usually believe in fighting fair, but-”

Clang-Clang

“I don’t even knuckledusters for this. I’m giving you one free shot. And Pa, believe me when I say, you better hope it takes me out. Because if it doesn’t, you’re not leaving this alleyway alive.”

“Stanley, you’re-.”

“One! You get one freebie! Do it already, unless you’re already scared. Are ya scared of me? Never seen a dead man before? Get used to it, you’re about to be one.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m promising you.”

WACK

Ptooh!

*non-bloodied spit lands to the side*

“That’s all ya got, old man? I’d feel sorry for you if I wasn’t so unbelievably pissed. This is a punch.”

WACK!

*bloody spit lands to the side*

(...)

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK

“Alright, alright, I’m comin- Stanford?”

“Ma, please come with me.”

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here? How are you-?”

“Ma, please. There’s too much to explain, and we don’t have enough time. But I need you to follow me now. You’ll see what I mean.”

“Okay, baby, okay, just please calm down, you’re shaking.”

(...)

KAFF-!

Kaff

WHEEZE

"You know, suffocation is probably one of the worst ways to go out. It isn't your throat collapsing that hurts the most. Or your lungs burning. Or your head going light. Or the black edging further and further into your eyes. No, it's not super painful. But it's terrifying. There's a deep panic, this fear you feel deep in your bones, and it's all you can think about, even after you're gone.

I died of suffocation, ya know. In that car crash. I didn't burn to death like the paper thought. I died because I couldn't fuckin breathe. And I was terrified the whole time.

But you know that now, doncha? The fear. The panic. The regret.”

“St-st-!”

*Stanley tightens his hands harder around Filbricks throat as he keeps him pinned against the alley wall*

“I tried calling home once, a few days after ya kicked me out. I was at a homeless shelter- I didn’t know what to do, I was just a kid and I didn’t know how the world worked. Tried asking an adult for help, worst mistake I ever fuckin’ made.

He jumped me, you know. He fuckin used me and I couldn’t do shit about- he was bigger than me, stronger than me, more ruthless than me. All I could really do was just lay there and cry.

And ya know the saddest part? The whole time I thought ‘I wish my dad would come and save me’ - what a dumb thought huh? Expecting you to help me? I cried a lot that night. The morning after. The night after. For days. I never tried asking for help again. Damnit, Pa, I needed you then, more than I ever did. I needed someone, anyone, to stand in my corner. Ya didn’t even need to lie and tell me everything would be okay, I just needed someone there.

Tried walking into traffic after I got tired of crying. Some biker chick hit me but didn’t kill me, she felt bad enough to let me into her gang, and I’ve been a petty criminal ever since, but I don’t think that surprises you.

Ya were always goin on and on about what a ‘real man’ is, but… what kind of man are you, if you couldn’t protect your own son?”

Crunch

Munch

“...Rick, do you MIND?”

“Sorry, you were taking a while, and the fries are getting cold. I was expecting you to be done by now. It doesn’t take this long to choke someone to death, you are definitely taking your time for the tragic monologue, aren’t you?.”

“RICK!”

“Fine, I’ll go wait by the curb. Don’t be surprised when you come back and all of your fries are gone too.”

Tap Tap Tap

(...)

“Sweetie, who’s your friend?”

“I’ll explain after everything’s over Ma, I swear. Fiddleford, did you find anything?”

“No yet- wait! Mr. Rick’s at that curb over yonder.”

“Sanchez!”

“How’d you shitheels get here?”

“We’re not in the mood Sanchez, where is he? Don’t you try to lie to us.”

“You think I’d lie to cover his dramatic ass? He’s in that alleyway by the pawnshop. No ones dead yet, by the way. He’s too preoccupied airing out his grievances to seal the deal.”

“Fiddleford, would you keep an eye on him?”

“...I s'pose I will, before things get more cattywampus.”

“Stanford, honey…”

“Ma, you’re not going to like what you see. But I need you- we need you.”

“We?”

(...)

HACK!

HACK

Kaff…

“I died and you didn’t even go to my funeral. The guy who killed me went to my funeral, and you didn’t. Did you really hate me that much? Or did you feel something close to regret?”

“Pl-...”

“No, no. You’re not begging for your life, Pa. I’m not listening. You had twenty seven years. You had twenty seven years where I would have listened to you, where I would have forgiven you, back then, before the car accident. All I used to want was your approval, and now all I want is to kill you.

I’ve been to prison already, Pa. Three times, in fact. Oh, the one in Colombia was fun- a neonazi group found out I was Jewish, and no amount of ‘I don’t even practice’ was gonna stop the fun they had kicking my teeth out. I even instigated a fight with them once, because I wanted them to finish the job. Too bad the guard was actually doing his job that day.

Had a really hard time sleeping after that stint in the pen. Had to take pills to get sleep, got addicted to ‘em. Couldn’t get them prescribed to me anymore after accidentally overdosing, so I tried overdosing on purpose with what I had left but I guess the cocaine kept my heart going.

One of my exes, she was a Witch, she caught me cutting into my thighs once, I passed out but she used one of her tricks to fix me right up. And she asked me why I wanted to die so much.

Got me thinking… I didn’t remember then, but I think deep down I knew. I never hated myself.

I hate all of the parts of me that came from you.”

*Stanley constricts his hands around Filbricks throat as tight as possible*

HRRK-!

“Why add so many steps when I can just get rid of the real thing? Goodbye, Pa.”

“Stanley?”

“Is that really you?

“Ma-? Ford? How-.”

“My free spirit… it’s really you…”

“I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know your thoughts and feelings are in turmoil in your head right now, but I also know you. You’re not a killer, Stanley. Stop this; if not for him, if not for her, or even if not for yourself, stop for me, please. I-I can’t lose my brother again. I just got you back…”

THUD

Cough-Cough HACK Wheeze

“Stanley… Oh Stanley, baby, my free spirit… Come here. Let me see you-.”

“No, Ma.”

“...”

“I’m no free spirit, I’m a fuckin’ ghost. Just keep pretending I’m dead.”

“Stanley-”

“You picked him over me ten years ago. For you, I’m sparing him. But don’t expect anything else from me, ever again.”

Cough…

“Hey Pa, I want you to remember this; you’re only alive because someone else saved you, you didn’t fight your way out of it. You couldn’t save yourself from me, your disappointing crybaby dead son. I hope this haunts you. Just like everything that haunts me. Goodbye, both of you.”

*Ford looks at Caryn apologetically, before grabbing Stanley’s wrist and following him out of the alley*

“Let’s just go home, Stanley.”

“Where is home, for someone like me sixer?”

“With me. Wherever we go-”

“...we go together.”

“That’s right.”

“...I don’t think I’m going to be good for a while, Ford. I-I think you need to put me back in, ya know, the basement cell.”

“...Is that what you want?”

“Just for a few days… Until I can get my head screwed on right. I don’t think I’m safe to me or… anyone, right now.”

“Hey… You’ll be okay.”

“...”

“You know, I was thinking about that… Murder Hut? Idea of yours… Maybe, that name is a bit too harsh. You should use something more, family-friendly, perhaps? Maybe… Mystery Hut?”

(...)

“So you copied my portal gun, huh?”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“No more surprised than anything else, McGucket. Look over there, there’s the Stan twins and neither of them look like they just saw or made a man die. That doesn’t surprise me.”

“...You knew Stan wasn’t really going to kill his Pa, didn’t you?”

“That big softie couldn’t even kill the Gromflomites when I lied and told him they were robots. Said ‘they seemed too alive’, and they’re giant insectoids. He couldn't shoot one dead even when I told him they were bureaucrats. Of course he wasn’t going to kill anyone today, or any day. But, I stalled for time anyways; it’s not like you and Ford were going to recreate my gun as fast as I could.”

“I still don’t rightly know what Stan saw in you, and you’re one of the most awful people I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet. But, you’re not lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut.”

“Let’s be honest, McGucket. He just has a thing for lanky guys in lab coats.”

“I’m never leaving you alone with him.”

“Heh. You are actually smart.”

To be continued…

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a-kaash-me-outside · 2 years ago

Text

a bit dirty - ch4

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch4 | next [masterlist]

// not the worst idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 9245 ᴡᴏʀᴅs (ooo, long chapter yw)

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, more bathroom fucking, casual osamu, meeting friends!~ ah! names names names pet names a million pet names, slight slowburn? like they fuck but-, this is the angst chapter, it's very small angst tho, fixes itself in the same chapter ily, developing feelings fr, afab she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

the chime of the entrance bell rings as osamu pushes open the front door, two brown bags of groceries in each arm as he greets you with, “can’t believe you’re here before me.”

“morning to you too,” you tease, rushing around the bar to meet him and take a bag or two from him.

“thanks,” he says as your fingers brush up against his forearm and your heart thumps a little too loud given that you literally just took groceries from him, but you’d argue that it’s not just the groceries, it’s the tone of his voice and his grateful look and the way that you swear his arm moves with your touch just to feel it a little longer.

“course,” you reply, walking back into the kitchen, osamu right behind you, and setting the bags down on the stainless steel countertop. you start pulling things out of the bag, vegetables and sauces and kitchen staples, and he starts putting them away in their respective pantry.

“thanks for closing for me last night,” he says as he walks back over to the central table where you’re placing all of the ingredients.

“no worries,” you say, shaking your head, “that’s why you taught me,” you reason.

“that’s true,” he replies.

you empty the last of the bags, folding them neatly and placing them in the cupboard. “how was your brother’s anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“really fun,” osamu nods, mulling over something in his head as he continues, “it was nice to just chill on a saturday night for once.”

“i bet,” you smile, “bet you’re glad that I offered to learn to close, huh?”

“definitely glad that i trust someone else enough to close for me, yea,” he says, slightly altering the phrase for the better.

you’ve only been closing for a handful of months now, were taught a couple of weeks after you returned from the catering event, a couple of weeks after you had sex with osamu for the third time, but on the fucking clock. meaning, it has been a handful of months and some odd weeks since you’ve mentioned anything about yours and osamu’s relationship and what the fuck the two of you are doing or not doing.

you’d think that not mentioning a boundary might be better, easier to navigate if no one has explicitly told the other that it shouldn’t be happening, but the truth is that it’s actually much more difficult. neither of you are sure where the other stands, what their feelings are on the matter, and that fact has led to a standstill.

not for your job, of course. your job has never been better. you’re still learning every day, you and osamu are still working really well together on the shifts where you’re a team of two, you’re happily taking on more responsibilities and osamu is happily trusting you with them, you trust each other.

but the scope of your relationship, since you knew who he was, of the trust and the easy conversations, has only ever been within the boundaries of work, until he mentions, “you should come next time.”

“what? to your brother’s party?” you ask, and you’re sure you sound as in disbelief as you feel.

“it’s not really like a party,” he says, “there aren’t enough people there for it to be like a party. it’s more like just a small hang out.”

how is that better comes out more like, “then who’ll close for you?”

“we’ll just throw everything in a paper bag and deal with it the morning after,” he explains, because he’s thought about asking you and the intricacies of you saying yes before the words left his mouth, “‘ve done it plenty of times before.” you don’t answer right away, mulling over the ramifications of accompanying him to an event like this.

“if you don’t want to,” he says, and you recognize that hesitancy, the embarrassment, like he’s made a mistake by putting himself out there, by trying to progress your relationship and navigate this really weird time where the two of you don’t know what the other wants.

“no!” you say, abruptly, maybe a bit too loud, “i do! i absolutely do.”

“are ya sure? i know sumu’s a lot, but he won’t be the only one there, sakusa’ll be there and our friend, suna. they’re way more chill. not sure we could all take it if we had someone else in our group like sumu,” osamu explains and excuses all at the same time, slightly rambling, but you’re looking at him like he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

there’s no mention of aran or any other coworker you know and it’s just nailing in how much of a non-work event this is, no social safety net to catch you or to lean back on. osamu will be the only one you really know there. he looks at you, patient for an answer.

you’ve already made up your mind, know exactly the response you’re going to give, but he just makes it even easier as he says, “i won’t leave your side, swear.”

you laugh, head falling from your spine, goofy smile, you’re sure, on your face as you nod, “then i’d be stupid not to, huh?”

/\ /\ /\

true to his word, the next time that atsumu has a small hang out, osamu invites you. he plans it all out too, schedules the two of you to work together that night, takes responsibility of driving you there and getting you home safely, double checks that you actually want to go, gives you plenty of time and a lot of grace to back out, but you don’t.

the night of the small hang out, osamu is ready to leave onigiri miya promptly at 9pm. the checks are punched, the money is counted, and the receipts are safely stuffed in a bag for you to sort out tomorrow when you open. you change into more casual, less work uniform clothes in the bathroom, grab the bag of onigiris that osamu has packed for sakusa and suna, and then you head out.

“so which one of these friends is the one that was with you and atsumu at the club that night?” you ask as you wait for him to lock the front door. translation: which of these guys knows that we had sex in a dirty club bathroom?

“omi was there with sumu and i that night, but we’re all really close,” osamu answers, walking down the street towards his parked car. translation: they both know that we had sex in a dirty club bathroom.

“how do you know them anyway?” you ask before offering a small thank you to osamu opening the passenger side door for you.

“omi started as sumu’s friend, really, but then the two became inseparable, and sumu and i are practically inseparable, so, y’know,” osamu answers, “and then suna and i have been friends since high school. honestly, been the four of us for a really long time.”

“well, i’m excited to meet them,” you say very truthfully, “especially if you say that they’re more chill than atsumu,” you add, even more truthfully.

osamu laughs, “definitely,” he says, “they’ll love ya.”

the warmth rises to your cheeks, sweat to your palms, and you shift in your seat, turn your body slightly to face him just a touch more, to see the comfort in his features and the softness in his eyes. your heart a subtle drum, echoing in your ribcage, and as your fingers crawl against the center console, creep towards his resting forearm, the rumble roars reverberant.

the tips of your fingers brush against his wrist and it’s like he’s expecting it, arm overturning, thumb brushing against your palm before threading his fingers with yours like that’s where they’re meant to be. it’s without explanation and void of any reluctance or questioning, reciprocated and assured.

and you really wish you could make better sense of this.

/\ /\ /\

you assume that atsumu will answer the door given that it’s his place, but your assumption is wrong. when osamu knocks on the door, it takes only a few seconds for someone, you deduce suna, to answer it. he throws open the door, greets osamu with a wave and then you with nod. “yo,” he says, and then holds the door open for the two of you to step inside.

“suna,” osamu says, gesturing towards you, “this is yn.” it’s almost weird for your name to come out of his mouth. he doesn’t say it very often. sure, he does say it, but he doesn’t use it to get your attention and when he does refer to you, it’s not usually in front of you, so you don’t normally hear it.

“nice to meetcha,” suna says, awkward smile and even more awkward body language as he steps further into atsumu’s apartment. “you work at the restaurant?” he asks, and you know that he knows the answer to that question, but he’s just trying to make polite conversation, and you do appreciate it. you nod. “cool cool,” he nods back.

you already feel like you’re failing at socializing, that osamu is regretting inviting you in the first place, but then he starts talking, conversation directed towards you. “yea, the other day at work, this weird ass guy came in and was practically hitting on you while he was ordering,” he says, practically starting a story, and it works.

“oh my gosh, yea,” you say, nodding as you follow suna into the living room, “he was ordering different dishes, but changing words in the titles to, like, make them pick up lines?”

suna laughs, furrowing his eyebrows, “how does that even work?”

“well, that’s what i was thinking, right,” you say, “but he was really creative, i don’t even remember what he was saying, all i remember was that my first thought wasn’t even oh this is weird, it was how long has he been thinking of this or is he a genius?”

“well, what happened?” suna asks.

“i basically called samu over pretending to be confused about what he was ordering because i really wanted him to hear what-,” you say and as you’re explaining, suna walks into the kitchen.

“keep going, i’m listening,” he calls out.

“oh, yeah, so, samu came over and the guy just starts talking completely normal again and i even tried to call him out on it, like, repeated one of what he said before back to him and-,” you say as suna returns, three beers impressively held in one hand, one in another, reaching out and offering it to you. “thanks, -and he just looked at me like i was the weird one.”

suna passes one of the remaining beers to osamu and sets another next to sakusa who is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. “that’s insane,” he says, shaking his head, “so weird.”

“really weird,” you agree.

“i always feel like there’s weird shit happenin’ over there at oni-,” suna says, but is cut off.

“hey! the star employee,” atsumu calls out as he enters into the living room and the loudness of his voice and the forwardness of his statement is unintentionally making you feel small very quickly.

osamu rests his hand on your lower back, a silent signifier of the promise he made to you in the restaurant when he asked you to come, that he won’t leave your side.

“hey atsumu,” you say, only attention given to his comment a small laugh at the end of his name, “thanks for having me.”

“i told samu that he should invite you over, hang out with you outside of work finally,” atsumu says, flopping onto the couch next to sakusa, arm flung around him, pressed up against his side, very in his space. “isn’t that right, omi?”

“the only good piece of advice i think you’ve ever given,” sakusa says, deadpanned, but the corners of his lips curl upwards when suna chokes on his drink and throws a thumbs up his way.

“that’s a point for kiyoomi,” suna calls out, “if we’re all keeping score at home, that’s kiyoomi 162 and atsumu 1.”

atsumu sits forward, “that’s because you guys never give me well deserved points. what about the other night when i said that really funny thing and then i was like see that’s point worthy? and then you guys said-”

“not if ya ask for it,” osamu says, “that’s the most basic rule and has cost ya so many points, but ya still keep askin’ for em.”

“if he doesn’t ask for em, how’ll you guys know when he’s being funny?” you joke and the instant that it leaves your mouth, you’re so worried that it won’t land or that it’s too mean, but sakusa chuckles and suna laughs even louder than before and osamu smiles proudly.

“that’s a point, that’s gotta be a point,” suna says, nodding, head looking back from sakusa to osamu. sakusa nods shortly and that’s enough for suna to laugh even harder. “tsumu, you’re tied for second, but she’s gonna surpass you before the night’s over i bet.”

osamu nods over to the couch as atsumu starts yelling at suna. he walks over with you and sits down next to you, arm draped over the top of the couch, just barely ghosting over your shoulders, and all you want to do is lean your weight into his side, but instead you stay upright, rigid almost as you hold the bag of onigiris in your hands.

sakusa spots the bag as it drags on the floor, looks down at it and then raises his eyebrows at you. “you brought gifts?” he asks and you offer him the bag, leaning forward to hand it over. “thanks,” he offers, instantly rooting around to find his favorite and tearing it open.

“don’t get rice on the rug,” atsumu says, interrupting his argument with suna, clicking his tongue.

“fuck off,” sakusa answers, biting into the onigiri again.

“look, at least eat it over a plate,” atsumu complains, standing up and walking into the kitchen to grab a few small plates. he hands one to sakusa and another to suna, grabbing the bag from sakusa’s feet and throwing it to suna’s.

atsumu is starting to seem less and less scary.

/\ /\ /\

halfway through the night, atsumu is walking around picking up little pieces of trash and dishes that sakusa or suna have left, complaining loudly at every single one. “you guys are horrible guests, y’know that? ya’d think that i’d have ya over enough times and ya’d start cleaning up after yourself.”

sakusa and suna and osamu all ignore atsumu’s complaining while he’s in the living room, but the second that he disappears into the kitchen it’s more direct, “samu!!!!! come help me with the dishes,” atsumu yells.

“dumbass, it’s your party, you clean up,” osamu yells back.

“you always help me with the dishes,” atsumu whines.

he refuses to leave you alone. he made a promise. and you love having him here, sitting on the loveseat with you across from suna and omi, but they’re talking to you and they are, indeed, much calmer than atsumu, not that you thought he’d lie to you, and you’re enjoying your conversation a lot. “you go ahead,” you say, steady look thrown his way to prove how truthful you’re being and he hears it all loud and clear. he nods, smiling, leaving the three of you alone in the living room.

/\ /\ /\

a bit later in the night and the only two people in the living room are you and osamu, but there isn’t any space to show for it. you’re pressed up against each other, legs draped over his thighs, practically in his lap, pointing at the frames on atsumu’s walls and the photos inside of them and the stories behind them, finishing whatever number beer this is.

you don’t even really remember getting into this position. it was either gradual enough to not notice the shift little by little or the change felt so natural there wasn’t a before and after, only a now. your spine is pressed up against the arm rest, backs of your thighs resting on the upper tops of his, your hand resting on the grasp he has on your knee, and the way that you’re pressed together isn’t even the most intimate thing about the two of you right now.

because osamu has been telling you a story for the past twenty minutes about the first year that he opened onigiri miya. you knew the jist of it, the broad strokes, the big details. you knew numbers and dates and first recipes, but hearing about his soft open and how his regulars became regulars felt much more telling.

you didn’t know about his somewhat rocky start or the fear of taking out a loan to fund this dream of his or how terrified he is of failing to this day, but you do now.

when he tells you, his voice is steady, genuine, and his eyes are comforting and grateful, and everything about the way that he speaks lets you know for certain that he isn’t just telling this story to everybody. as he finishes, patches up all of the gaps in the story that he skipped over and any details that he might have missed, you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his bicep. you rest your head on his shoulder, tucking your feet underneath you, knees resting on the side of his thigh, and he exhales, kisses you softly on the top of your head and says, “thanks for listenin’, angel.”

you turn to look at him, to rest your palm against his cheek, to thank him for telling you, but you don’t get that far, startled by the loud yell in the kitchen.

“you’re fucking so dumb,” suna laughs, the metalic sound of keys jingling follows, gets louder and louder until sakusa and suna and atsumu all emerge to pass through the living room to the front door.

“idiot hosted a party and ran out of beer,” suna explains to the two of you as he pushes atsumu towards the front door, “we’re headed out for a refill. need anything?” you’re increasingly grateful that no one, not even atsumu, has made mention of how entangled the two of you are on the couch.

“are ya sure you’re okay to drive?” osamu asks, look thrown over his shoulder to atsumu.

“omi’s drivin’,” atsumu says, pressing an obnoxious kiss into the side of his cheek, “only had like 2 beers all night, first one was hours ago.”

“i’m cool,” sakusa says, nodding, and osamu doesn’t press a single second more, evidently trusting him.

“see ya in a bit,” atsumu calls out, back towards you, waving as the door is pulled open and suna and sakusa leave in front of him.

when the front door closes, despite the alcohol in your bloodstream clouding your thoughts a tiny bit, the realization hits both of you that you are alone, off work, not at work, and you both really love the way that the spots on your skin in contact with one another feel. you don’t say a word, let the silence settle in, too occupied with your own thoughts to try and formulate them into sentences, too worried about whatever might be going on in osamu’s head.

his touch pulls you out of it, a gentle finger coaxing you to look up in his direction, dull nails scraping against your jaw, thumb nudging your chin, and this is the first time that a moment like this isn’t brought on the forwardness of your words. you melt against his warmth, push your cheek into his palm, turn your head and kiss his thumb. there’s no timer counting down in your head, no rushing to get this moment over with in time, even though there maybe should be some urgency, you just want to be here, present.

he moves you slowly, but confidently, reaching over to guide you by your hips until you’re seated in his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs. this position is so new for the two of you, you on top, him looking up at you, the softness of cushions beneath you.

you wrap your hands around the back of his head, thread your fingers into his hair, pull down gently on the locks until his neck is completely stretched, lips are as close to you as they can be without you having to move. he looks so pretty, waiting, expectant, patient, needy. you like this position very much.

the slight pressure where your fists reside in his hair, this faint lost look in your eyes from having this tiny inkling of control, the weight of you in his lap, how your head tilts back as you pull his back, mirroring the motion you’re trying to achieve. you look so pretty, trying, out of your comfort zone, longing, restless. he likes this position even more.

he tugs you forward, shifts your balance, and you’re crashing into him, arm reaching out to brace yourself on the back of the loveseat, face inches from his. all he has to do to close the gap is sit up. your lips are soft, kiss is hard, and you shift your arms to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into you.

you feel like a teenager, kissing your crush on a living room sofa, giddy and sappy and smiling as he wraps his arms around your lower back to press you closer into him. you smooth your hands down his chest, his stomach, press your fingertips into the inside of his thighs, nails scratching against the fabric of his jeans.

“missed you a lot, samu,” you admit, forehead against his for a tiny breath break.

“and i missed ya even more, love,” he shoots back, one peck pressed into your lips and then another. “i don’t think i can wait this long to kiss ya again.”

you shake your head against his, “please, don’t.” you kiss him again, more passionate, breathless. you need him to feel how much you need this, how badly you need for him to not leave you alone for this long again. “promise me,” you mumble against your plea.

“promise,” he says, pulling away to look up into your eyes, “wasn’t plannin’ on it.” you claw your fingers into his thighs harder and osamu bucks his hips up into you at the touch, a soft groan leaving his chest, a knowing smile on his lips in response to your devilish one.

“we’re right by the front door,” osamu warns, leaning into the crook of your neck, kisses placed against soft skin, fingers molding around your hips, dipping down the back of your skirt.

“you’re strong,” you reason, half-joking, “you can fix that.”

one second you are on the couch and the next second, you are not. you are in osamu’s arms, tiny squeal as he lifts you effortlessly and walks with you down the hallway. when he pushes open a door with your back and sets you down, it’s not nearly as plush as you’re anticipating it being. you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

“you really want to fuck in your brother’s bathroom?” you ask, curious, but impatient smile on your face.

“you really want to fuck in my brother’s bed?” he shoots back. osamu’s laugh tells you everything that you need to know, an easy nudge that just says, trust me, and you don’t have to walk down the hall and take a peek into atsumu’s bedroom or have osamu spell out all of the reasons that he thinks fucking in the guest bathroom is a better idea.

it’s clean, really clean actually. neatly decorated, virtually untouched. small, sure, but you and samu don’t need an ocean’s worth of space, the two of you could make do in a stall. the glass of the shower is residue-less and the white solo-standing sink across from it is practically sparkling. the window is slightly cracked and the carpet on the floor in the middle of the room is soft.

“yea,” you lean forward after a minute of surveying the area, hopping down off of the edge of the sink, “you’re right.” you rest your forearms on his shoulders, fingers clasped behind his neck, pulling him into you.

you can’t move osamu like he can move you, not even close. you pull on his neck, one hand on his shoulder, trying as best you can to wordlessly guide him into the position that you want him to be in, but he’s too engrossed in kissing you, in feeling your soft lips and tasting you. if the roles were reversed, you’d already be turned around right now, moved with strong hands in steady positions, but you’re struggling to silently communicate that you want him to be up against the sink right now.

“samu,” you whine against his lips, forehead pressed against his and now he’s kissing your pout, “lemme move you.”

oh my god, if he couldn’t have snapped right there, kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, fucked you until you couldn’t walk, given you everything in the entire world, every last grain of sand and drop of water, told you that he loved you or that he needed you or just that he wanted you to stick around forever. instead, he nods, can’t hide his smile as he moves in the soft direction of your pull, focuses on your gentle coaxing touch.

he moves until the pressure stops, your hands drifting down his chest and then his sides, palms digging into his hips, driving his lower back against the sink that you were just sitting on. osamu doesn’t ask any questions, isn’t the slightest bit curious as to why you’re moving him or what you have in store. he can see it in your eyes and your assured movements, the unfolding of desires and plans, and he’s very happy to just be along for the ride.

you’re slow to lower to your knees, even slower to place your fingers on his belt, ghosting touch skimming over the leather and against the cool metal buckle. osamu is filling in everything in his head, swallows harshly before a shaky exhale, “fuck.”

you look up at him with doe-like eyes, happy for once to be the one seeing the ruin in his lust-blown eyes and the anticipation on his face. “haven’t been able to get the feeling out of my head,” you say, eye contact steady as you pull his jeans down over his thighs, watch him watch you as you inch closer to his heavy cock, jaw falling open and his eyebrows furrowing in response. “of your cock on my tongue.” his response comes in whimpers and tensing forearms and a tighter grip on the edge of the sink.

fuck, he looks so pretty waiting like this, trusting you like this, hips pressing forward the slightest fraction just to get that much closer to your lips. his lips are slightly parted, bottom one moving with every unsteady exhale, a subtle blush in the highs of his cheeks. you can’t tear your eyes away from him, not as you take his drooling head into your mouth, slide the underside of his cock against your hot tongue.

“angel, fuck,” he grunts, “mouth’s so perfect.” he wants to touch you, to grab you by your hair and sink deeper into your mouth, but your hands are soft on his hips, fingers tucked up the hem of his shirt so he can feel your nails scraping against the skin, and you’re being so slow and so caring and savoring every drop of precome and twitch of his cock.

his knuckles are practically white, all restraint shown in the grip he has on the edge, because your mouth feels so warm and so wet and so good, but it feels even better knowing that you’re taking care of him in exactly the way you want.

you wrap your lips around his head, tongue laving over the slit and spongy tip, spit and precome gathering in your mouth, swallowing as you take more of him. your lips get tighter as you swallow, tongue slips against his length. it’s harder to focus the deeper you take him, the further his fat cock causes your jaw to open, the farther his thick head hits the back of your throat. moving your head back and forth on his throbbing cock, the image of him blurring as you move faster, but you’re determined to watch him unravel even heavier.

he’s leaving it completely up to you, the pace and the depth, and it’s so different for him to give up control and just let you do exactly what you want to him, but he misses the feeling of some part of you in his hands. it’s like you can read his mind, eyes flickering to his uneasy hands itching to feel something much more human underneath them. you slide your hands down his tense forearms, moving one to the side of your face and threading your fingers in the other. he doesn’t take advantage of this, this closeness to your mouth and your movements, only curls his dull nails against your warm skin.

you hum at the touch, vibration from your throat sending shivers up his spine, and if he watches you care for him so sweetly just another second longer he’s not going to be able to stop himself from coming down your throat.

“sweetheart,” he mumbles, low and whiney. you hear him, but you don’t want to, too enveloped in the heft on your tongue and the fullness of your throat and the familiar taste. he mumbles again, tapping two fingers gently against your cheek to get your attention, “bunny, hey.”

the air is cool compared to your encompassing mouth and tight throat, and osamu silently curses himself for saying anything at all. “hm?” you ask, side of your palm coming up to your bottom lip to wipe away the gathering sheen. he pulls you back up to your feet, hand strong on the back of your thigh as he presses you against him, heavy cock nudging into the fabric of the skirt between your legs.

his lips skim yours, not completely a kiss, as he speaks, “y’know what i can’t get out of my head, doll?” you shake your head, pleading eyes flickering to his lips, hanging onto every word, “how pretty you looked on top of me earlier.” the whimper this elicits from you drives osamu mad, large hand spanning your other cheek as he pulls you into a deep kiss, moving with you to the floor.

sitting with you in his lap, one knee bracketing either side of his hips, osamu is now very grateful for the stupidly expensive, surprisingly soft rug that he failed to convince his brother not to buy. the heel of the palm of your hand on his sternum drives him down to the floor, looking even more up at you now as you circle your hips, rubbing the thin cloth of your panties against his leaking exposed cock. “like this?” you ask, breathy and somewhat timid to be in control despite the fact that osamu was patient putty in your hands mere seconds ago.

he nods, hair messy against the rug beneath him, and you can only assume that another part of your slight discomfort is that, sure, you’ve had sex with osamu in bathrooms, more times than you should’ve to be honest, but you’ve never had sex with osamu lying on a bathroom floor, and for some reason, this feels even more filthy than any times before.

but osamu rests his hand on your thigh, pushes the fabric of your skirt up so that he can look down at the dark spot on your panties and the way they bunch and tighten as you slide your covered pussy against his throbbing length, bucks his hips up into you, lifting you off of the ground just enough to make you gasp, and yea, no, this feels incredibly right.

you brace yourself on his sternum, lift yourself up slightly to move your panties to the side, no patience or want to climb off of him and take your panties completely off, you want him inside of you right now. “could eat you out so good like this,” osamu says, eyes drifting up your body before settling on yours.

you shake your head. you want him inside of you right now. “next time,” you mutter, sinking down onto him slowly, inch by inch, and it just keeps fucking going. you tilt your head back, chin to the sky so that your moans have a better path to leave you. “samu, baby, fuck.”

when you’re finally seated completely on your cock, it’s like you can feel it in your stomach and in your throat, you’re so fucking full, he’s so fucking deep inside of you, you can barely fucking take it. you’re whimpering, tiny tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you babble, “fuck, i- you’re, mmm,” you shake your head, hand frantic to interlock with his as you circle your hips, not wanting to be without a single inch, “samu, fuck, so deep, you’re- i’m- i can’t- you’re so fucking deep inside of me, baby.”

he can barely take it either, so deep inside of your tight, clenching walls, completely surrounding him. every one of your tiny movements, every shift and circle and squirm, forces him to show restraint. he loves this view, this feeling, will continue to wait as you get adjusted and continue your fucked out babble no matter how badly he wants to flip you over and fuck you as hard as he can until you’re squirting all over the rug beneath you. “i know,” he chokes out, “i know, babygirl, i know.”

when you start to move, it’s nothing drastic, miniscule movements that don’t require much effort, pushing your hips forward, pulling them back, leaning towards osamu, tilting away. you can feel him move inside of you, but he stays this deep. all the while, you’re slurring nothing to him, tidbits of gratitude and cries of pet names, and if you’re this ruined already from this little, god he can’t wait until you’ve reduced yourself to tears, until he has to pick up the pieces and coax you through orgasm after orgasm.

he presses his fingertips into the fat of your hips, helping you along, picking you up a tiny bit more every time until you’re forced to follow the motion, pushing up onto your knees and letting yourself fall back down, skin clapping harshly against the tops of his thighs. you push his shirt up, desperate to feel the tiny prickles of sweat forming on his soft stomach and his heartbeat against your palm closer. every crash back down, a tiny exhale expelled from your lungs, out your quivering lips, so fucking cute.

“goin’ so slow, angel,” he says, not an objection or an issue, tone steady and in awe, practically an admiration. you nod at his words, barely any room in your head for them amidst the so full so full so deep so fucking full and deep and so full so deep inside hes so deep inside of me im so full of him.

your thighs are starting to shake, barely even breaking a sweat, but your core is tight and you can feel how sloppy you are around him and how all of your juices are dripping down his cock, can hear the sticky sound of slapping skin when you fall back onto him, and, “‘m so- gonna-,” you whine, “samu,” you whine louder, fat tears falling down your cheeks because you want more, need more, but you can barely even think straight, “please.”

he loves looking up at you, so pretty and needy, wouldn’t trade it for the world, so he’ll give you everything you want from down here. he drives his hips upwards, hands on your hips to move you against the weight of gravity as best he can. he’s barely even started fucking you when you tighten around him, flooding even more, soaking his cock, a throaty, “coming” matched with your eyes rolling back, fist forming around the fabric of his shirt.

you reach out, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink, other hand plastered against the glass of the shower door as bounce up and down on his cock. your movements are unpredictable, not as steady as his thrusts nor as rhythmic, but driven by instinct and whatever you think you need right now.

“wanna-,” osamu says, looking up at you, out of breath, pushing up the hem of your shirt to expose your stomach, “have to see your tits, pretty girl.”

your shirt is gone, bra undone, and as you continue moving yourself up and down on his cock, you realize this is the most undressed you’ve ever been fucking osamu. you’re not sure exactly how that makes you feel, but you figure you’ll have time to deal with the feelings later, because right now, osamu can’t keep his hands off you and you’re newly exposed skin.

he’s running his hands up your sides, hands groping your bouncing tits as they follow the quick, harsh movements that osamu is causing. his thumbs flick over your nipples, fingers dig into the fat, and he really can’t believe he’s never gotten to play with your tits before.

you can feel him everywhere, under the backs of your thighs and deep inside of you and over your chest and you’re coming again, clenching around him, grip tight around the sink as your thighs shake even harder, your movements weaker, slower, doll-like, as osamu fucks into you faster.

you’ve barely come down from your high before you’re ready to come again, thick cock splitting you open, hitting the deepest parts of you, filling you so perfectly. you’re so tight around him. you can feel every single throb, every strong pulse, and when osamu sits up, braces himself on his arm behind him, pulls your chest into his face with a gentle hand on your shoulder, you can’t help but cream all over his cock again, his name falling off of your tongue repeatedly.

he can’t fucking take it, how tight your walls are, how creamy you’re making his cock, how sticky the tops of his thighs are. “princess,” he says, a warning, “where do you want it?”

“on my-,” you breathe, you know exactly where you want it, “want it on my pussy.”

“fuck,” he says, shaky, “of course, baby, fuck.” he pushes forward further, creates a gap between the two of you as he leans you back, making sure that you’re able to brace yourself in the same way that he is before letting go of your lower back. he pulls out of you, thick cock resting on your sloppy pussy, hips bucking to slide the underside against your sensitive clit and soft skin.

he wraps his fist around his cock and you watch in awe, pupils wide as you stare down at his tight grip around his throbbing length, the way his thumb swipes over the head as he gets to the top. you reach forward, wrapping your own smaller hand around his cock. he’s so thick, so weighty in your hand, and every pump of his cock coaxes a throaty grunt out of osamu, eyes floating from place to place, on your cute hand around his fat cock, on your pretty tongue swiping over your bottom lip, on your bouncing tits as you stroke him faster.

if it hadn’t been so long since he’d fucked you last, he’d have forced himself to last all night, just to watch you jerk him off all night, until your arm got so tired that he had to take over for you and all you could do was watch or use your other hand, awkward movements and slower pace, but different grip to get used to.

another time, he thinks to himself as he thrusts up into your hand slightly, spilling over the side of your fist, thick load leaking out of the tip of his cock and onto your already messy pussy, creamy ropes landing on the insides of your thighs and on top of your pretty cunt and cute clit. you lean back, fingers still wrapped around his cock loosely as you use your other hand to smear his come between your legs, mixing his mess with yours before sticking your fingers into your mouth.

your fingers are barely out of your mouth as osamu kisses you, hard, so hard that he nearly knocks you backwards, sitting up onto his knees to angle your head up towards him. he wants to tell you so bad, wants to say fuck it to all the voices in his head and the fear in his bones and just admit it to you. the look in your eyes when you pull away doesn’t make it any easier.

but your hoarse voice and your giddy smile and your shy, “should probably clean up before they get back, huh?” pulls him out of it. he laughs, short and airy, presses another small peck into your lips because he can, and then helps you to your feet.

“maybe one day we’ll be able to, like, actually clean up with a shower or something instead of just,” you gesture to the toilet paper in his hand, “this everytime.”

osamu smiles, grabbing your shirt in the corner of the room and extending it to you. “maybe that one day could-”

you didn’t hear the key in the lock or the door open, but you do hear atsumu throw his shoes against the wall and very loudly call out, “we’re baaack.” you look at osamu because you’re not sure what to do, half dressed, still a mess, rug undealt with and very loud evidence of something happening in the guest bathroom.

“it’s so late, why are you being so loud,” suna retorts. you can hear the three sets of footsteps as they move in the opposite direction towards the living room.

“where are they?” sakusa asks, and now you can hear the footsteps spread out, all beginning to look in different areas of the apartment, bags set down on coffee tables, doors opened.

“how do we play this?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed, chewing on your lip thoughtfully, and osamu wants to just forget about making a smart plan and stay here and fuck you again instead or maybe just kiss you until everybody leaves or falls asleep. “samu,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face, “do you want your brother to know we had sex in his bathroom?”

no, no he most definitely does not. he shakes his head, thinking just as hard as you are on a good solution, on maybe sending you out first or walking out together quickly and hoping they don’t notice where you’ve come from or sneaking out of the window perhaps. you throw your shirt back on, straighten out your skirt, clean yourself up as best you can as osamu continues cycling through plans in his mind.

“they fuckin’ bolt?” suna asks, probably in the kitchen or atsumu’s room, you can’t quite place the footsteps.

“maybe a good night for samu,” atsumu jokes, and you can hear the pop of a can opening and a soft oof as he throws himself onto the couch, unbothered now by wherever the two of you have gone.

“fuck off, miya,” sakusa sighs. “probably just left because they didn’t want to be around you anymore. wish i fuckin’ could.”

“another point for omi, count it,” suna says.

“what?” atsumu laughs, breezing past the taunts thrown in his direction, “i’m just sayin’ it must be nice to have an employee fuck buddy.”

your heart is thumping louder, harsher. you feel trapped in more ways than one, deeper than just not knowing how you’ll leave or get home, but in your own mind. you’re not looking at osamu now, embarrassment spreading through your entire body, showing evident on your face and in your shrinking posture.

“you fucking serious?” suna asks, “you think they’re still…?”

“c’mon, he’s gone, fuck you think they went?” atsumu jokes, and you wish his words weren’t as firm or loud or correct.

“i never said that,” osamu says, quietly enough to not breach the barrier of the door, “i’ve never called you that, or said anything like that, i sw-.”

“i should probably go,” you say, not hearing or not listening to whatever osamu is saying right now. it didn’t really matter what osamu said or didn’t say, it’s the perception that you didn’t want skewed in the first place, and here it was, twisted and contorted and confirming your biggest fears about falling for osamu as you did.

“wait,” osamu says, hand reaching out to softly wrap around your wrist and as comforting as the touch is, as much as you want to melt into it or ask for more, you wriggle out of his grasp. “hey,” he says, softer now, just trying to get your attention. “how do you think you’re going to get home?” he asks.

“i’ll just get an uber or something, i don’t know,” your voice is shaky, weak, confused, hurt.

“no,” osamu says, taking a step closer to you, “no, you won’t. i’ll drive you back.” you shake your head. surviving an entire car ride with osamu after hearing whatever atsumu just said seems like an impossible feat.

you don’t want to leave, but you don’t want to stay here. you can’t listen to another word, don’t want them to continue speaking or hear what else atsumu thinks of you. you don’t want to face them, god, you don’t want to face them, but hearing the rest of this conversation seems somehow even worse. you turn, opening the door to the bathroom, face warm and palms sweating as you take a step out into the hallway.

osamu moves to grab your hand, to pull you back in, to just talk to you for a minute, but the second that you’re in the hallway, despite how badly you just wanted to quietly tiptoe to the front door undetected, you’re noticed. “shit,” suna says, under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to understand the gravity of the situation.

“thanks for having me,” you say, not looking at anyone, not directing the sentence towards anybody, shoes slipped on quickly, door opened quickly, and bounding down apartment stairs as you hear your name being called from behind you.

the commotion behind you starts, an “are you fucking kidding me?” muffled by the closed door, rushed footsteps down the hall, and then the noises of the apartment becoming louder as the door is opened once more. you’re outside by the time osamu calls your name again.

the instant breath of fresh air that fills your lungs is already calming your nerves, sending signals to your brain that it’s okay to start sobbing, the wind will dry your tears. you’re grateful that you don’t listen right away, that it takes a few seconds for your muscles to catch up with your thoughts, because the door flings open behind you, a huff of breaths following the sound of it closing, and jogging footsteps running to catch up with the distance you’ve created.

“wait,” osamu says, but you don’t stop, not sure you could even if you wanted to. you don’t know where you’re going or why you won’t just stop and talk to him, but you keep walking, one foot in front of the other down uneven pavement. “yn, wait, please,” he calls again, voice closer, projecting over urban noises and passing cars. when his fingers wrap around your wrist, the feeling of warmth and the beat of your pulse in his hand scream louder than anything you’ve heard tonight.

you turn around and the thoughts and signals have caught up with you, blurry vision amidst a lash line of tears, and you wait. you’re grateful for the distortion, for the unclear picture of osamu standing there, face solemn and unsure how to proceed, how not to lose you, and you can’t wait anymore, “fuck, samu, what are we? what is this?”

the words are tumbling out of you now, every worry and clouded judgement from the moment you walked through the doors of onigiri miya, “fucking one time in a club before i even worked there, that’s fine,” you shake your head, pulling your wrist out of his grasp softly, “fucking once at work after close, okay maybe less fine. fucking in a hotel bathroom in the middle of a catering shift? definitely crossing a line there.” you list off your endeavors, remembering them all perfectly well.

“now, we’ve just fucked in your brother’s bathroom, off the clock and not work related. and your brother referred to me as an employee fuck buddy,” you say, chest aching as the phrases leaves you, “i mean, am i? what is this?”

he doesn’t leave you waiting for an explanation, doesn’t speak over you, he’s kind and attentive like that. “i never called you that. i never said that about you, yn.”

“fuck, samu, it doesn’t matter,” you say, though you suppose it’s a slight lie. the weight on your shoulders and your chest is a bit lighter now, but not entirely gone, “that’s how they see me.”

“they don’t even know about any of those times after we knew each other, only the first time, only that first night,” he explains, but they’re not the right words. they’re soothing some anxieties in you, but not the right ones, but you don’t know which anxieties are the right ones.

you close your eyes or turn your head, it doesn’t really matter, you just can’t see him. it’s dark outside and you can’t focus on much despite there not being much to focus on, and your voice snags as you say, “if i wouldn’t have made a big deal about this,” you swallow, even softer now, “would we have left that bathroom and skated around the idea of fucking each other until something snapped?”

the tears have breached your lash line, have fallen down the inner corner, dripped off of your chin and onto your shirt below. “and what?” you laugh, “then we’d just repeat the cycle again? and then again? and i’d never be anything other than your employee fuck buddy, i mean fuck, samu, come on.” your voice is desperate now, cracking and confused, and he’s just standing there, patient and listening.

“it’s never been about how you view me or how you feel about me,” you shrug, back of your hand smearing tears and mascara against your cheekbones. “or it has, but just,” you groan, frustrated, “i know you care about me somewhat or in cyclical doses, i’ve never doubted that, i just want to know that even though you haven’t called me that, that’s not what you think of me too?”

“of course not,” osamu says, instant and assured. he reaches out again. you let him this time, cup the side of your face, wipe the few remaining tears, pull you closer to him, but not into him, there’s a difference. he just wants you to look at him. “i’m sorry,” he says, eyes darting around your face, not knowing where to land, “i didn’t mean to make it this difficult. i was trying to be respectful and do it right and-,” he takes a deep breath, “all i want is to be with you.”

he continues on, voice soft and thick, soothing all of the right anxieties, “i’ve been thinking about you nonstop since that night at the hotel and i swear to god if we stayed another night, i would’ve spent it with you in my bed, in my arms, but we left and i didn’t- we didn’t-” he takes another deep breath, talks softer now, a tiny scoff preceding his words, “it’d be easier if i could just kiss ya right now.”

you’re nodding because he’s right and because your shoulders feel light enough for you to do that now and because everything that he’s saying is the everything you want to hear, but that’s not the reason he’s saying it. “no one’s stopping you,” you breathe.

you don’t have to meet him halfway, he comes to you. presses his lips against yours, snakes his other hand up to the other side of your face and holds you still as he takes a step into you, body close, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer if he can.

he pulls away, breathless and the question is already leaving his lips before they’re off yours, “can i take you out?”

your first instinct is to laugh, and you do, because you know his schedule and his next planned night off. “you? get a night off?” you scoff, shaking your head, “who are you going to have close for you? me?”

he laughs, huge grin accompanying it because it’s so easy when you’re around, “no, no, i’ll figure something out,” he breathes, shaking his head harder, “it doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you say yes and that i get to take you out on a date, a real date, and then we get to do real date things, and after date real date things.”

your laugh is louder now, lowering your head into his shoulder as you joke, “i don’t know if i can get the weekend off. my job’s pretty important to me.”

he kisses you again, absolutely beaming as he pulls away. “please just say yes so that i can start making plans.” when the joking fades and you’re standing there under shitty streetlight and nonexistent moonlight and you can see the seriousness in his kind eyes, you don’t want to keep fucking around, you just want to say yes.

you want to cross the boundary of hooking up and weird feelings and move forward to kissing at work and carpooling home together. you want to break this cycle and start new ones, ones with less confusion and more domesticity. you want definitions and declarations and dates and labels.

“alright, alright, yes, god,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows, waiting a beat before taking a breath and then his face into your hands to place a soft kiss onto his nose. “i would really love to go out with you finally.”

seconds pass and then minutes and osamu is just happy to be out here on the sidewalk with you in his arms kissing you every other second, and you’re just happy to finally be in a place where you don’t have to worry about the next time you get to kiss osamu again.

you’re the one that breaks the silence, a soft smile on your face unmatching the tone of your sentence, giggly and giddy and somehow just as needy. “can’t believe i’ll get to fuck you in a real bed.”

you’re expecting some form of scoff or laugh or half-joke or disbelief, but he grins at you, drags his lips against the side of your face, and says low in your ear, “i know, angel, can’t wait.”

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