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mrs-luigi-vargas · 2 months ago

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something must be wrong (with me)

Rating: General Audiences Characters: Bowser, Mario, Toad Relationships: Bowser/Mario Tags: Sickfic, Sick Mario, AU - Rapunzel Fusion, Humor, Pre-Relationship

Summary: Visiting Mario in his tower had inexplicably become something routine, for Bowser. Until this visit, when Mario doesn’t answer Bowser’s calls for him. Prompts: Medieval Treatment, Clean Sheets Word Count: 2,116 words

[AO3 Link] [Link to Series]

~~~

It really should have been concerning, how routine arriving at Mario’s tower felt.

Despite it only being a few short months since beginning to do so, Bowser was pretty sure he could navigate the route from his castle to the tower in his sleep. And he did, sometimes. In his dreams, to be precise. Which was always weird, because hardly anything would happen when he would get there; he’d climb to the top and...nothing, except for a faint sense of anxiousness. It would also be weird because what the hell was he dreaming about visiting Mario for? Maybe it was a sign he needed to stop visiting him.

But then again, it was only a few days ago when he’d woken up with nothing urgent on his desk for the first time in forever and his kids off visiting friends in a neighboring kingdom and no meetings on the horizon, and the first thing he’d thought of was not how long he could get away with staying in bed nor gracing a nearby town or two with his presence nor tending to his neglected musical instruments. No, the first thing he'd thought about had been walking down this very path and getting up that tower.

So, clearly, something was wrong with him.

And you know what else was wrong?

The fact that Bowser got to the base of the tower, yelled up for Mario, and received absolutely no response. No matter how loud he got in his repeated attempts. Bowser ground his teeth, fuming. So much for those dreams.

“Hello!”

Bowser started, badly. Below him, in his blind spot, a Toad had snuck up and was peering up at him with a cheery smile that barely masked his wariness. “You’re...Bowser, right?”

Unbelievable. As if he wasn't the leader of the army that besieged this Toad’s kingdom in attempts to take it over every few weeks for the past few years. “It’s King Bowser, you worthless pip-squeak,” he growled, and was satisfied to see the Toad’s face reflecting the level of fright someone should have, standing in his presence.

“R-right!” The Toad swallowed nervously. “So, um...I’m...I’m the Mail Toad...”

Bowser raised an eyebrow.

“W-well I’m not actually a real Mail Toad it’s just that no one else wanted to deliver letters all the way out here because of the distance and danger but I don't mind danger or long trips or anything and Mario deserved to get his mail because he’s Mario right so I volunteered to deliver it and then I had to take an exam which was really hard and —”

“Shut up!” Bowser snapped. The Toad skittered back a few steps, shutting up.

A muscle in Bowser’s jaw twitched. He looked up one more time at the tower. Well, fine. If Mario thought he was too good to see him, then that was that. See if he decided to visit ever again.

“W-wait!” the Toad shouted after Bowser as he started to walk away. Bowser ignored him, but the Toad barreled on. “You’re here to visit Mario, right? You usually climb the tower!”

Bowser glared over his shoulder. “No, I’m not,” he said. “Not if the chump’s ignoring me.”

“W-well —! He’s been ignoring me, too!” The Toad held up a parcel of mail. “I haven't been able to deliver this since I got here yesterday!”

At that, Bowser turned fully. It was one thing for Mario to decide not to see him, but to also refuse mail from his family? He had to admit that wasn't like him at all.

“Yeah,” the Toad continued, more confidently now that he had Bowser’s attention. “A-and I saw the lights on the way here, so he’s definitely still up there —”

Of course he’s still up there; he’s literally cursed to be up there.

“— so unless something’s wrong...” the Toad’s voice trailed off. He gasped, looking stricken. “...What if...” he whispered, “what if he died?!”

“He’s not dead.” Bowser rolled his eyes. “He’s just being annoying. And I don't wanna deal with annoying. I’m out of here.”

“But but but!” The Toad wrung his hands together. “Can’t you check on him?” he pleaded. “You’re the only one who can get up there!”

“He’s not dead!” Bowser insisted, rankling at being ordered around by a Toad.

“But what if he is?!”

And wasn't that the question. The stupidest question imaginable, because Mario wasn't dead. Even if this behavior was abnormal, because Mario craved visitors more than a sunflower craved the sun. Or even if they really had no way of knowing for sure unless he went up there himself. Or even if Bowser was remembering that faint sense of anxiousness from his dreams.

Bowser stomped over to the Toad. “Give me the damn mail,” he spat.

The Toad’s demeanor switched in an instant from despair to relief. He beamed. “Thank you!” he said, passing the mail parcel to Bowser.

As soon as Bowser had the parcel in hand he swiped at the Toad with the other, claws inches away from his face. Just to remind the Toad who was the boss, here. But while the Toad flinched and was quick to get his distance, he didn't look nearly as scared as he should have been.

“Y-you can't hurt me!” the Toad declared, exuding false confidence. “Mario would be upset if you did!”

Something in Bowser’s face spasmed. The Toad’s bravado swiftly evaporated, but enough remained for him to reach over his shoulder and draw a weapon. “I-I’m not scared of you,” he lied, very obviously shaking. “I-I know how to use this frying pan! The Princess taught me!”

...Bowser’s seen the way Peach wielded that thing. Bah. He stormed off towards the tower without another word. What a weird Toad.

---

Bowser had only meant to check if Mario was dead, drop off his stupid mail, and then get out.

He’d pried the giant window at the top open, and stepped into a room full of stale air. When he’d called Mario’s name he’d been met with some shuffling noises and a soft groan. That should have been enough to prove Mario wasn't dead, but something had still compelled him to make his way to the lump on the bed in the corner. He'd peeled back the blankets to reveal a Mario shivering and sweating, curled up into a ball, radiating heat enough to make Bowser’s scales sweat, clearly sick with...something. Bowser'd had no clue what. For his sake, he'd hoped it was milder than it looked, considering the closest doctor was days away.

Yes, he’d meant to leave him there and go home, because there was no way he was staying long enough for the fever to latch on to him and thus be brought back to his kids; that would be a nightmare. But as Bowser had removed his hand from checking Mario’s temperature Mario had subconsciously chased it, and his breath had hitched and he’d murmured his brother’s name in the hoarsest, saddest voice Bowser had ever heard and then the next Bowser knew he was hanging Mario’s freshly washed sheets out on the windowsill. He watched them flutter in the breeze, trying to rationalize how he’d gotten to this point. What the heck was wrong with him, that that’d been all it took for him to start acting like...like Kamek? Ugh.

A light squeaking noise caught Bowser’s attention. Just outside the window, a rope-and-pulley system was moving; a small bucket rose up, with the only thing in it a note. Is Mario dead? it read, a crude drawing of a near-crying Toad right next to it.

Instead of burning the note to a crisp like he wanted to, Bowser instead marched over to Mario, who was parked at the table with broth and bread and his bundle of letters. Bowser slammed the note down on the table. “Say something so he stops being annoying,” he demanded.

It took a moment for Mario to process the command, but when it hit him that Toad was still waiting at the base of the tower he sprung up in a burst of energy to look for something to write with. And then he immediately started to sway dangerously from the sudden movement. Bowser reached across and pushed him back into his chair. “Dumbass,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a pen off Mario’s desk.

But despite Mario’s sudden urgency, he wasn't actually in a headspace to write anything, only managing a shaky, overlarge N and O underneath Toad’s question before his energy ran out and he just sat there, the ink from his pen bleeding a dark splotch onto the paper. With a huff, Bowser snatched the pen from Mario’s hand, and, turning the note around, scribbled a rough He’s just sick fuck off at the bottom. He tied the note to a spare paperweight off the desk and dropped it out the window, half-hoping it would hit the Toad.

It didn't, evidenced by the bucket going down and then coming up, with the paperweight and the note inside it with Toad’s response: Ok, I’ll tell the Princess — a drawing of a Toad, grinning — take care of him! Far below, the Toad wandered around, cleaning up his campsite.

“I’m gonna kill that guy,” Bowser muttered. Mario frowned at him.

...Damn it.

The sun dried the sheets quickly, so Bowser brought them indoors. Mario watched Bowser throw them onto the bed with an odd expression on his face. It was an expression he’d been wearing almost the entire time he’d been cognizant Bowser had been here; it was like he didn't believe Bowser was here at all. Which was ridiculous. Mario wouldn't be able to hallucinate Bower’s greatness properly without a visual aid.

Regardless, with Mario constantly distracted Bowser had to keep aggressively reminding him to finish his damn lunch. Because after the effort it took to make it Mario had better not waste it or he’d be wishing he’d burnt to a crisp from the fever. But that threat didn't land quite right, and it left Mario smiling into his bowl. And instead of paying any examination to his own reaction to that, Bowser jumped at the first bit of busywork he could get his hands on to distract himself, which happened to be making Mario’s bed. Which would have been fine, if not for the fact that this was the precise moment where all the years of ignoring Kamek’s nagging to make his bed instead of passing the chore off to the servants finally came back to bite him.

Frustrated, Bowser threw the sheets haphazardly onto the mattress and gave up, sitting on the floor with his arms crossed sullenly. Mario, finished with his food, wandered over to stare at him. “What?” Bowser growled. “Your brain cooked? Go lie down so I can get outta of here.”

Mario blinked at him. He shuffled closer, glancing between Bowser and his bed in hazy consideration. And then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he let himself fall. Right on top of Bowser.

“Wh - ?” Bowser froze, arms splayed out, as Mario curled himself up right on top of him, heedless of Bowser’s sputtering. And there was a lot of sputtering, with his face burning as hot as the weight of Mario on his legs. In an attempt to save face, the sputtering turned to rambling about how you know fine, he could — and should! — push Mario off him right now but he won't, because Mario was looking uniquely pathetic today and he was a generous king. So Mario should feel thankful. And lucky, too, because they say a King’s touch could cure even the worst illnesses, you know. There used to be lines of people stretching out the castle based on those rumors. Until the old man got pissy about all the sickness floating around or whatever, and made a bunch of coins we could claim could cure people in the same way ‘cause he touched them, but he didn't actually though ‘cause that would just be a whole pain in the ass, and —

Mario wasn't listening to a word Bowser said, because Mario was fast asleep. The rush of annoyance Bowser felt at being ignored was strong, but more distant than it usually would have been. And the longer he stared at Mario’s sleeping face, infinitely more peaceful than it had been mere hours ago, the more his indignation slipped away, and with it went the idea to move Mario off his lap at all. In its place, he was filled with...something else. Something way...lighter, than the circumstances would ever warrant.

He really needed to figure out what was wrong with him.

#could barely think of a title so you get aoi shiori (context removed) lmao #anyway i like writing bowser on the cusp of figuring out he has Feelings its fun :)#smb #bowsario #bowser #mario #mlv.fic

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amoristt · 7 months ago

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Grazing the Fire | V

we are SO back!!!!!!!!!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

warnings: language

want to support me? here's my ko-fi!

-----

You find yourself back at that little park sooner than you’d originally thought. The bench is cold underneath you, the wind drawing off the ocean chilling you to your core, dragging orange tinted leaves along the waving grass. The morning sun is bright and inescapable. Shadows of birds overhead dancing along the scenery- a glorious morning indeed- albeit damped by the fall’s approaching cold.

But your mind was elsewhere, unable to process the gorgeous view encompassing you. Your foot taps on the ground, hands drumming on your jeaned thighs. Every one of your nerves tick under your skin with each passing second, your eyes focusing on nothing in between the quick glances of your phones screen. No calls. Not yet. God it was killing you. You could hardly conceal your anxiety- or, perhaps, your excitement. Pure, raw thrills that tried to pull the corners of your lips into a grin. You fought against the urges to save face, on the rare chance someone was watching you. No one needed to know about what you had done.

This was so entirely out of character for you. Every last aspect. You, in your years of life, have never considered yourself to be a vindictive person, even when it was well deserved. Sure, you may have wanted them to die, but you never showed it. Never made a peep. Never rocked the boat. Watched life pass you by and rolled belly up at every turn. You didn’t even take the backseat in your life- you were locked in the trunk.

Last year you would have said your greatest fear was to paint yourself a target.

But… Recently that had changed. Recently you’d felt like maybe you stopped caring as much. Your academics were just barely starting to slip. Not enough to notice. Yet. You stopped trying to mesh into your peers. Barely had conversations with them all together. Their personalities had started to itch their way under your skin in the most annoying of ways. Boring or pesky at their best. and downright miserable at their worst.

You hated to admit it, but Nathan was right. This town really was nothing but fake. He’d also taught you something new. New, and shiny and important: when someone fucks with you, you get mad and you get even.

Like a siren piercing through dead air, your brain is guided back to the world. You answer instantly, grinning and speaking before it even gets the chance to fully connect. “Is it done?”

“You’re goddamn right it is. Those hoes have no fucking clue what’s about to hit them.” Nathan’s voice is much cooler than your own, as if this were just another casual Tuesday for him.

Maybe it is.

“You beautiful bastard.” You’re so giddy you feel like you could kick your feet. “Are they gonna’ know it was us? I mean, not many people have open access to skunk pheromones…”

“Don’t be such a pansy. They’re definitely gonna’ know it was us but big deal. What are they gonna’ do? Tell Madison? I'd pay to see that chump go against my laywers.”

“Well, legalities aside, I do share four classes with them. Two of which I sit right in front of ‘em. They’re not gonna’ be very happy about all their things being skunk bombed over the holiday weekend. Kiiinda worried they might stick some gum in my hair.”

“Well then I humbly suggest you switch seats cuz’ I’d rather you not stink me up.” Nathan snickers on the line. “Besides, you’ve got three whole days until they’re back in there sticking cotton up their noses and drowning all their shit in bleach. Gives you plenty of time to think up an alibi.”

“You sound like you know what you’re doing.” You say, mindlessly watching a bird pluck a fish from the waters beyond. “You do this often?”

“Please. This is a light day for me.”

“Consider me shaking in my boots.”

“Better be, bitch.” On Nathan’s line, you hear the sound of a car door shutting, wind whipping at the mic. “I’m getting back into my dorm. Meet me at that big shitty fountain in front of the school Monday morning. Don’t be late or it’s your room next.”

The line drops before you get the chance to answer him. You imagine April and May’s room filled thick with clouds of skunk pheromone, sitting on their clothes and beds all weekend long. Seeping into the walls, the carpets, everything. It filled you with a type of happiness you’d not felt in a long time.

How you were going to survive the long weekend in anticipation, you weren’t sure. All you knew was come Monday your ass was going to be at that fountain.

-----

It’s both a blessing and a curse that the weekend melts into a blur. You’d gone home, visited your parents, ate lovely meals and slept in the bed that you’d grown to miss so badly. But, all throughout, you couldn’t stop thinking about Monday. About Nathan.

About how you were excited to see him. The memory of that angry… Thing that had come at you so intensely back at the diner weeks ago seemed like a forgotten dream- like that couldn't be him. So accusatory, so defensive without a cause. You never realized how far he’d come- just how much he’d softened his edges for you. You were on the other side now.

Why are you so angry all the time? You’d asked with bite, rarely opened lips bared in defense. Never had someone come at you with such vitriol. You shocked yourself as you held your ground. But, maybe you understood it now. Started to feel that same poison seeping under your skin, watched the world through his lenses and witnessed that somber dreariness bleed into your vision. But, even so, he was always bright. He was a glowing hot ember. He had started to become, well… Everything.

Your mom had asked you why you’d been so spaced out, mind elsewhere. She pegged it so quickly it made your head spin: you had a crush. A deep rooted sapling that was sprawling through your veins type of crush. A stay up all night, daydream all day kind of crush. You felt so special- so seen. You couldn’t help it- Arcadia Bay’s little fucking monster couldn’t get enough of you. Saw something in you among all the other blurry bodies rushing about the little seaside town.

And now, back in the bay and standing before Blackwell academy, you never thought you’d be so excited that school was back in full swing. No half day, so assembly. Just class after drawn out class surrounded by your peers. At the fountain, you saw Nathan there with an open binder in his lap. He didn’t notice your approach, engulfed by it’s contents that served to drag curiosity out of you. You approached in silence- just barely close enough to peek.

It makes you hesitate.

From the short glance you’d stolen, you saw what you’d expected: beautiful, gloomy photos printed out and slid into laminated pockets. But you also saw paper drawings of dark, dark scribbles. Eyes and hands and deep, black shadows. The pages crumbled with the thick lines to show his urgency. They disappear in the blink of an eye when he snaps the binder shut offendedly with a scoff.

“Can I fucking help you?”

“Why so secretive?” You tease, keeping the moment light, keeping him from raising his guard.

“How about none of your business?” He gripes in return, shoving his binder to the side.

“Sharing is caring?”

“Can you hop off my dick?”

“Aw, come on Prescott. Can’t be worse than the BDSM wall.” You say with a snarky grin, plopping down beside him. A few students walked past, a couple of them almost gawking at the sight of you choosing to spend your time with Nathan. When he didn’t answer, you faked shock. “Wow, worse than that, huh?”

“Shut up.” He grunted. “That last thing I need is you digging through my personal shit.”

You had opened your mouth to say more, to push just a little harder, but you stopped yourself. He was being… Genuine. This was important to him- something he wasn’t ready to bare yet. Try as he might to make himself come off as mysterious, as dangerously secretive, you saw right through him. He was shying away from you.

“Alright, alright. I get it.” You looked down at your lap. A cool breeze floated by, a vulnerable tenacity thickening the air. Fingers drumming against your thighs once more, you swallowed hard. Maybe this was your chance to pull something of substance from him. To give a little, let him feel like you were truly there to connect with him. Like gaining the trust of a feral animal.

"Can't help it. I’m pretty nosey.” You dramatically sigh.

“Fucking clearly.” Nathan huffs, fingers absently running along the plastic top of the binder.

“Hey, don’t act like you don’t immediately start going through my shit whenever you get the chance.”

He grinned and pointed a boney finger at you. “That’s because fuck you, and I can do whatever I want. Sharing isn’t good for shit.”

Give a little. You reminded yourself.

“I can do what I want.” You mocked, earning an eyeroll. “You’re right, though. I've never really felt heard when I'd share things. So I just started trying to figure out everyone else's shit."

"Like some unwanted shrink?"

You shrug. "Maybe a little. I like to learn."

"Someone didn't get enough of daddies attention."

You glare at him pointedly and shove his arm. "Hey don't be a dick. He may be an asshole, but-... He's, well..." You bounce words up in your mind, searching for something nice to say. Nothing comes.

You remember being a child, desperately craving that fathers love you saw in all the movies and shows. You enver really found it. He had been there your whole life- sure, but... Never truly there. He was like a ghost in his own home. A smiling face in the photo's littering the walls but never present when you needed him. Your shoulders fall.

Nathan shifts. "He's what?"

You swallow, and shrug. "He wasn't really around, I guess. Guess you pegged me right."

He stares down at his lap for a moment and picks at his black jeans. You expected him to laugh, or in some way revel in the fast that he'd nailed it right on the head. But then, he speaks.

And he bites the bait.

“Feel free to trade. My dad’s so far up as my ass he could probably see through my mouth.” He started, leaning back with unfocused eyes. You could see the way his nerves start to tense at the thought. “Like I’m just some sort of puppet for him to control.”

You see real emotion in his eyes. It’s familiar, a simmering anger, but it’s real. Raw. It steals your breath away. For fear of pushing him too far, you back off and leave it there.

“Fuck dads.” You say cooly.

He breathes a laugh. “Fuck dads.”

In the distance, almost right on que, you see the unmistakable figures of two sorry girls walking towards you. All alone, heads hung low, they passed you both by with sideways glances. You could see the way they wanted to say something, scream and accuse and demand justice. But Nathan’s presence was heavy. He leaned back once more, rested on his elbows with that signature smirk.

“Hey you two,” He sang. “Digging the new cologne. Smells like ass and B.O.”

If shame could be a person, it had been doubled. They skirted by with their heads hung low and tails tucked between their legs, with you watching bearing the brightest shit eating grin you could muster. They knew. They absolutely knew and there was nothing they could do about it. The power you felt in that moment was energizing- made your skin buzz. Made you want to go out and do it again, live on the edge just a little further. Maybe this is how it happens- your descent into fulfilling that rebellious teenager role you always left empty.

Nathan’s laughter beside you only spurred it on. He watched them with those slitted blue eyes, shoulders rising and falling in harmony with your own giggling. The sun caught the flairs of his hair. It was a beautiful moment, one that made you realize how badly you needed this. You needed to feel your hands on the reins of life, and he would be your mentor.

But then the shrill echo of a bell rang out and drew you back in reality. Your eyes shifted forward to the now looming building, the dark windows, the long steps up to the front doors. This would be one of your first tardies that were within your control- God, what would your mother think?

The moment you make a move to getup, Nathan’s laughter falls and dissipates into dust.

“Fuck’re you going?” He asked, quick like he was offended you were taking your leave.

“I dunno,” You sigh. “Class?”

“Fuck that.” Nathan’s leaning back again, getting comfortable. “You’re skipping.”

“Like hell I am.” You scoff.

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

“You spend all day with those two hoes and you’re gonna stink like shit for the rest of the week. You don’t want that, do you?” He sneers, but you can sense the urgency underlying there.

You decide to give in a little. Tap at the bait. “And we’re gonna, what? Do drugs and party?”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Nathan. No.”

“Fucking christ, ” The eyeroll was audible. Then, quietly, he mumbles, “Usually I can’t get people off my dick about that shit.”

“Well you can save it for them cuz’ I’m not interested.” You shove your hands into your jean packets, watching him. He looks to the side while he brings himself to his feet, but you don’t miss the way that he seems to linger on your remark.

“Yeah.” He breathes, tongue darting out between his lips. “You don’t need shit from me.”

It draws a laugh from you, as well as a languid shrug of your shoulders. “Not a damn thing. From you, or anyone.”

“Keep it that way, yeah?” Nathan takes quick steps ahead of you. “I’ve just about fucking had it with all the twee hoes and leeches. Now hurry the hell up before Sargeont Madison’s on our ass.”

And just like that, you’re up. Blackwell Academy fades into nothing and your vision surrounds Nathan, tunnels onto him as he leads you to his truck and throws the passenger door open before climbing into the driver seat. He’s tapping on the steering wheel by the time you hop into the seat, wired up and ready to go.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you buckle your seatbelt over your chest, choosing to ignore the way he grunts at your interest in safety. He himself takes on the risk, rushing the truck into drive before he’s launching out of the parking lot. Burnt rubber and smoke waves you both goodbye.

The sun leaks in through the window and paints the edges of him. “Patience, my uptight friend.”

You glare at him. “Uptight? Seriously?”

“I don’t hear you denying it!” When you cross your arms, he laughs. “See what I mean? Fucking relax. Chill out! Live a little.”

You know he’s right. You feel that he’s right but you can’t stop the scoff that slips past your lips as you toss yourself against the seat, staring out the window. “Cuz you’re just so chill all the time.”

“The chillest.”

“I think I can name exactly one time you’ve been relaxed.”

Nathan eyes you curiously. “And when was that?”

“When you were-”

You stop yourself dead in your tracks as the image of Nathan sleeping floods your mind. Tucked on his side beside you, unbothered. Vulnerable. You remembered how it had floored you when you’d rolled over and really took in the sight of him. There was no frustration, no anger. No drawn brows and pointed glares. Just… Him. But you couldn’t say that. If you did you were damn sure Nathan would put a stop to that; slam that shit in your face and lock the door. Maybe even burn the house down after for good measure.

“When what?” He hums, curious now. “Don’t fucking hide shit from me now.”

You click your tongue. “I’m a woman of many secrets.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

It’s then you realize that it’s over. If there’s one thing Nathan’s about, it’s that the man never lets up. You’d spent so much time curating the foundations of… Something between you two that you weren't sure where to go from there. It felt lose-lose regardless of your answer. A sigh drifts out of you.

“Remember all the shit with Tate, and I slept in your room?” He doesn’t answer, eyes forward. You swallow. “I woke up a little before the alarm went off. I was like, half asleep, but, I don’t know…” You look up at him for some sort of response, but he gives you none. Doesn’t even spare you a glance. It makes you feel awfully judged. “You were still sleeping like the dead and you looked pretty relaxed.”

Finally, he looks at you. For the first time you can confidently say that you left Nathan Prescott speechless. His eyes searched you over as if looking for something, but it never came. The nerves building in you forced you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“You are a fucking stalker.” He deadpans after a pause.

“You asked!”

“Are you one of those fucked up freak ass hoes who take photos of people when they’re sleeping? Am I about to get blackmailed?”

“Oh my god,” You huff and cross your arms. “Shut the fuck up.”

Nathan forces out a scoff, shrugging. “I don’t know, this is a big deal. Not sure I wanna’ know what you’re doing with that picture.”

“Said the creep who uses pornos as a decoration.” CD’s poke out from the glove compartment and you pluck one, glance at the cover. A woman in a bikini takes up the space, white words over the top reading Deftones. You hadn’t really pegged Nathan as a rock kind of a guy, but now you could see it. Little angry pieces of him that resonated with heavier tones. Maybe it helped him unwind. You hold the CD up to him, flash a grin and giggle.

“What was it you said earlier? 'Why is it that the first fucking thing you do everytime I invite you somewhere is start touching my shit?' I’m just gonna’ make your sorry ass start walking everywhere.”

“First of all, you basically dragged me here, and now I have to think up an excuse why I wasn’t in class or my dorm today. Second of all,” You toss the CD back into the little scattered pile. “I’m shocked at the lack of whale songs.”

“Jesus, are you ever gonna’ let that shit go?”

“Never.”

There’s a shift in the air, something lighthearted that doesn’t weigh your chest down. In the rear view, now just a small fragment in the backdrop, you see the rigid tops of Blackwell. You’d expected more anxiety to pair alongside your adventure out, maybe some worries about detention or losing credits. But… Honestly, in that moment, you mostly just felt at peace. Maybe it wasn’t something in the air changing- maybe it was you. The person you’d been when you’d first arrived on campus- with thick headphones, a notebook and bright eyes, was morphing into something else. Little more jaded, a little less apprehensive.

Which made no sense given your current situation. After the things you’d been through with your friends, with Tate and all the other brats running circles at Blackwell, you should have been this little stressed ball of anxiety. And add /the/ Nathan Prescott into the mix? You should be spiraling. But you aren’t.

You glance at him. He isn’t either.

The oceanside sprawls along the roads, rich sands glowing under the sun. Seagulls perch atop light posts and dance in the sky overhead. Arcadia Bay had a way of holding your attention with it’s lavish wildlife, its mountainous greenery and beckoning water. You hadn’t noticed it until recently- well, not entirely. You’d notice how expensively humble the town appeared during your first few visits while feeling out colleges. You noticed the quaint little diners just as much as you noticed the rich, looming mansions. You skirted by without a thought, barely even stopping to smell the roses.

“Alright,” Nathan starts, and suddenly the view of the gorgeous water is gone. Replaced with a heavy sign as he pulled into some sort of driveway. Dirt and grim filled your vision, stacks of broken down machinery and glass piled high as the eye could see. Much less appealing to look at. “We’re here.”

You raise a brow at him. “And where is… Here?”

He swings the door open and hops out, stretches as if the drive had been so long and tiresome on him. “Maybe get out and take a look?”

So, you do. You shove the door open and jump onto the ground, feeling the gravel shift underneath your shoes. It’s a junkyard, full and outlined with tires and trash. The air is thicker here, unpleasant. There’s countless containers and waste, as well as an abundance of crushed beer cans dotting every corner. The heavy sign catches your attention once more.

“American Rust Junkyard?”

“That right.” He walks around the side his truck, that cherry red popping so expensively compared to the dismal trashyard. It takes a few moments, but he retrieves a bat from the bed of his truck.

You shift your weight. “What are we doing here?”

Nathan tosses the bat to you, barely giving you a second to realize and catch it in your arms haphazardly. It’s heavier than it looks, and littered with dents and scuffs, evidence of it’s past use. You watch him as he walks into the entrance way, grinning ear to ear in that fox-like expression.

“We’re gonna have some fun.”

#life is strange #nathan prescott #grazing the fire #lis

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themculibrary · 5 months ago

Text

Valkyrie/Carol Danvers Masterlist

a long way from avenging and county fairs (ao3) - Sanctuaria G, 1k

Summary: Valkyrie enlists Carol’s help wrangling Asgardian children through the happiest place on Earth.

A Marriage of Convience (ao3) - hushnowsweetie T, 10k

Summary: Carol Danvers has numerous titles, including pilot, Avenger, and Captain Marvel. Her newest title: Queen Consort of New Asgard and wife to King Valkyrie.

A Million Things To Say (ao3) - Nevski M, 12k

Summary: Valkyrie is the sovereign leader of New Asgard and Carol just needs a place - or someone - to crash on.

Or somewhat half-assed rendering of the space girlfriends set in after the Infinity War. There might be some AU elements besides the obvious fact that well, Valcarol.

and i would give you the moon (ao3) - laudnasanchor T, 6k

Summary: Silently, another photo appeared in the conversation. This time it was with the front-facing camera, of Valkyrie herself, holding the phone at arm’s length as she posed next to her still-eating pegasus. She was smiling, her tongue stuck out, and Carol suddenly felt hot all over.

Oh yeah, that was another thing she had to deal with.

Her stupid, unrequited, world-ending crush on Valkyrie.

AKA Carol is a useless lesbian trying to figure out the world, Valkyrie just wants her to figure out that she wants her, and Goose just wants to get some rest.

Set post-The Marvels, not spoiler free.

Arm Wrestling is for Chumps (ao3) - DaisySimmons, Stucky101 G, 1k

Summary: She lets her eyes trail over Carol’s biceps once again, “Maybe he wanted to see who would win an arm-wrestling contest,” she jokes, her lips quirking.

Carol’s lips lift as well as she throws herself in the seat across from Valkyrie.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she tucks her knees under her and leans across the table, beautiful arm extended. "

Valkyrie is competitive... (And also very, very gay).

falling (ao3) - shcrlockholmcs G, 1k

Summary: The first time Carol saw her was during the battle against Thanos. After that, she could not get her off her mind.

Kamala Khan, Matchmaker Not-So-Extraordinaire (ao3) - 324b2fun valkyrie/carol, past carol/maria T, 10k

Summary: Kamala decides to play matchmaker. It only mildly blows up in her face.

my black eye casts no shadow (ao3) - Queelex T, 5k

Summary: Carol Danvers and Brunnhilde get into a few fights. Some of them are even with other people. Set post-Captain Marvel and vaguely pre-Thor Ragnarok.

Of Kings and Queens (ao3) - TheRealJLRules T, 3k

Summary: Days after Thanos' defeat, Captain Marvel has to leave Earth once more. But not before checking in on an old flame...

Operation Valcarol (ao3) - chaitealeaf T, 4k

Summary: “How did you do that?” Monica asked, her mouth widening with shock.

“I took coding classes back on Earth. Trust me, I know how to find ao3 anywhere,” Kamala smirked, logging herself back into her account.

Bombarded with so many questions, Monica opened her mouth to speak, but paused as she saw what the girl was typing.

“Valcarol?”

“Yep. It’s our new ship, baby!”

-Basically Kamala being a little shit who ships valcarol-

present (ao3) - kicksmalfoy E, 3k

Summary: “Want to help me undress?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Raspberry Swirl (ao3) - WhiteravenGreywolf G, 5k

Summary: Carol is working in an ice cream truck for the summer and among the many weird flirty dudes she's come across, one stands out above the rest as 'not such a bad dude'. And his beautiful lady friend isn't bad either.

Ship Troubles (ao3) - theotherstuff (orpheusturns) E, 6k

Summary: Carol stops by New Asgard due to ship troubles one afternoon. The King of New Asgard happens to be on a day off work.

Soft Around You (ao3) - mabbbbs T, 5k

Summary: Post-Canon. It's been two months since that brief but tender moment on the ship; the day Valkyrie answered Carol's call to come and help the displaced Skrulls. That moment, however, brief, was filled with unresolved romantic tension. Since then, Carol has been on her own, but that loneliness is becoming unbearable in New Orleans, and she finds herself longing for a certain King.

A King who is a smidge soft for her.

Take Me, or Leave Me (ao3) - betheflame, rinnwrites valkyrie/carol, bucky/tony, steve/thor, peggy/clint, pepper/natasha T, 5k

Summary: Carol Danvers and Valerie "Valkyrie" Rhodes hate each other. Which is inconvenient when they're put together on a school project.

Token for Your Thoughts (ao3) - Ellerigby13 T, 1k

Summary: Carol agonizes over what flowers to get, what to wear, where to go on her first date with Valkyrie, while Val's just happy to be going out at all.

AKA: Carol Danvers is a useless lesbian and we love her for it.

Vanilla Chapstick (ao3) - Anonymous E, 5k

Summary: Carol is stressed.

Brunnhilde has... ideas.

you can hear it in the silence (you can feel it on the way home) (ao3) - Sanctuaria T, 4k

Summary: Valkyrie makes good on her promise, and makes their next meeting be joyful.

Well, maybe not the next one, but… (Eventually, there is joy.)

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #brunnhilde #carol danvers #f/f

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werewolfbansheelove · 9 months ago

Text

Bad Reputation (Glee Kids)

I'm excluding the adults parts

Some glee members were laughing at a video of someone dancing to Olivia Newton John's Physical. Finn (enters the room): What’s so funny?

Rache and Jesse enter the room. Rachel: You aren’t watching the video of me falling off stage at my first Tiny Tots beauty pageant?

Kurt: That was Carrot-Top funny compared to this comedic tour de force.

Jesse: That’s Olivia Newton-John's "Physical." It was pretty groundbreaking subject matter at the time considering its depiction of fluid sexuality.

Mercedes: (Laughing) Oh, my G- Wait, wait.

Finn then realized: That’s not Olivia Newton-John. That’s -That’s Sue Sylvester.Where did you get this?

Kurt: I can tell you that I certainly did not steal it from her locked file cabinet yesterday when she sent me back to her office to get her hormone replacement injection during Cheerios practice. (Laughs)

Artie: Wait. Did she just do the Cabbage Patch?

[Mercedes Laughs]

Finn: I’m posting this on YouTube.

Rachel: No, no, wait, wait. Do you think that’s a good idea? She might kill us.

Mercedes: Oh, let her get a taste of some of the humiliation she put us through.

Jesse: I’m with Finn. You guys need to stop being such asses and start being badasses.

Finn smiled at Jesse as he took the laptop. Finn: Ten bucks it goes viral by lunch.

–—––—

Will held up a list with some names on the list. Will: Who did it? This is serious. Principal Figgins is threatening to disband the club.

Santana: Why are we playing this game? We all know it was Puck.

Puck: Back off. I didn’t do squat.

Tina: Then why is your girlfriend first on the Glist?

Rachel: And why am I last? Aside from the fact that I refused to put out for you.

Will: Okay, enough! No one is accusing anyone of anything. Puck, seriously, did you do it?

Puck: I said no. I’m a delinquent, sure. I like setting stuff on fire and beating up people I don’t know. I own that. But I’m not a liar.

Will: All right, here’s the important point. Between this and posting Coach Sylvester's personal video on YouTube you guys are getting a pretty bad reputation.

Artie: Why is that a bad thing? Maybe if we seem more dangerous, people would stop flushing my glasses down the toilet.

Will: Look, things are hard right now. I get it. You’re under a lot of pressure with regionals coming up. I know that winning sectionals hasn’t had the positive effect on your popularity... that a lot of you thought it would. But becoming what you despise is not the answer. (Hands papers to the members)

Mercedes: Man, this song is wack.

Will: No, it’s not. It’s a terrific song on a long list of top hits that, because of time or some bad press, has become a joke. And like you guys, it’s time to start rehabilitating its bad reputation. The assignment for the week is for all of you to find songs like thi mine them for what works and make them great again and then, hopefully, you can apply this musical lesson to your own lives.

Jesse: This song should be arrested for the crime of sucking. (That served a lot of laughing.)

Will: You wanna bet?

Artie: Oh, no, he didn’t!

Will: Yo, VIP Let’s kick it

New Directions: Ice ice baby, ice ice baby.

Will (with New Directions): All right stop, collaborate and (listen) Ice is back with a brand new invention. Something grabs ahold of me tightly Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly. (Will it ever stop?) Yo, I don’t know. Turn off the lights, huh, and I’ll glow to the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal. Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle (Dance) bum rush the speakers that booms. I’m killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom(Deadly) When I play a dope melody, anything less than the best is a felony. (Love it or leave it) You better gain way, you better hit bull's eye (The kid don’t play). If there was a problem, (yo) I’ll solve it. Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it.

New Directions: Ice Ice Baby, vanilla, Ice Ice Baby. Vanilla, Ice Ice Baby, Vanilla, Ice Ice Baby.

Will (with New Directions): Take heed, cause I’m a lyrical (poet) Miami's on the scene just in case youdidn’t (know it). My town, that created all the bass sound, ennough to shake and kick holes in the ground. Cause my style's like a chemical (spill), feasible rhymes that you can vision and (feel). Conducted and formed, this is a hell of a concept, we make it hype and you want to step (with this). Shay plays on the fade, slice like a ninja Cut like a razor blade so fast, other DJs say ("Damn") If my rhyme was a drug, I’d sell it by the (gram). Keep my composure when it’s time to get loose. Magnetized by the mic while I kick my juice, if there was a problem, (yo, I’ll solve it), check out the hook while DJ revolves it.

New Directions: Ice Ice Baby Vanilla, Ice Ice Baby. Vanilla, Ice Ice Baby, Vanilla, Ice Ice Baby Too cold, too cold, Ice Ice Ice Ice

Will: Yo man, let’s get out of here, word to your mother.

Will: This song is officially paroled! Right, Jesse? You got me? (Jesse nods, agreeing.)

–—–—

Rachel walked beside Artie.

Rachel: I need to enlist the services of the A/V Club.

Artie: What did you have in mind?

Rachel: My shame at appearing so low on the Glist has made me reevaluate my image at this school and beyond. I've realized that in today's culture of bad boy athletes and celebrity sex tapes a good reputation is no good at all.

Rachel stood or leaned down to Artie. Rachel: Artie, you know how our Glee Club assignment was to find a song with a bad reputation and rehabilitate it? Well, mine is going to afford me the worst reputation in this school. Rachel Berry is going to get a little down and dirty.

Artie: I’m gonna stop you. You had me at "sex tape." How can I help?

Rachel: Hold on to your hat because Rachel Berry is going to become musically promiscuous. She smirks and walks away.

–——–

Kurt, Artie, Tina and Mercedes were in the choir room around the piano. Kurt: Fellow Glee Clubbers, I have called this meeting because our free-falling reps have reached terminal velocity. We are at DEFCON 1.

Mercedes: We’re such zeros, they didn’t bother putting us on the Glist.

Kurt: What does a C-lister do when their tiny star is about to fall off Perez Hilton's radar screen? They cause a scandal so extreme they can no longer be ignored.

Artie (raising a hand): Um, excuse me. Why is she here?

Brittany was in the room but they didn’t notice her until Artie said something about it. Brittany: I’ve been here since first period. I had a cold, and I took all my antibiotics at the same time and now I can’t remember how to leave. But I also don’t know why I’ve only made fourth on the Glist. I made out with, like, everyone in this school girls, boys, Mr. Kidney the janitor. I need to do something to get into the top three.

Kurt: Fine, you’re in.

Mercedes: In what? We don’t even have a plan.

Kurt: What is the worst thing a student can do at this school?

Tina: eat in the cafeteria? (Making Mercedes and her laugh)

Kurt: No, be a disruption in the library. I’m not talking about trying to check out a reference book. Uh-uh. I’m talking about full-on chaos including getting your Glee on in the stacks.

Artie (amused): Genius!

—–——

Rachel was at her house in her rom. Rachel: Do you know that when we dated, the rest of the school gave us a nickname? Puckleberry.

Puck was in horror wearing a mask that was from Phantok of the Opera. Puck: That’s humiliating.

Rachel: The fact is that slumming it with me actually improved your reputation. It gave you a sense of humanity.

Puck takes off the mask. Puck: Wait. Do you want to date again? I was wondering why you invited me here.

Rachel: As you know, I’m taken, but I can be of some assistance. Help me with my song for Glee Club. I-I might be the last chance you have to salvage what’s left of your reputation and stay in Glee. Besides, you need a song that’s gonna help you to express your inner pain.

Puck: What song do you wanna do for your assignment?

Rachel: I’ve chosen David Geddes's fantastically terrible '70s Top 10 hit, "Run Joey Run." It’s a story song, so we get to play parts. I’m gonna play the role of the tragic heroine who dies in the end la Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge and you can be the hunky, heroic male lead.

Puck: Do I get to kill you?

Rachel: N-Actually, my dad shoots me with a shotgun.

Puck (Sighs): Do you think I made that Glist? Honestly. (Sits down on Rachel’s bed)

Rachel (follows): Well, it does sound like something that you would do.

Puck: God, I’m so tired of people judging me for a few mistakes I’ve made. I try to be a good guy. I go to school and I say, "Be cool, Puck. Be nice." But by second period, I’ve got a fire extinguisher in my hands and I’m spraying some dweeb with it, and I don’t know how I got there.

I understand. Yeah. I sit in Glee Club and I watch a couple of imperfect performances and a litany of criticisms just start building up inside of me like a volcano and I keep telling myself to hold it in, and then it just comes bursting out. Granted, generally, I’m right but doesn’t do much for my reputation.

Puck: It does suck when you do that.

So, uh, how do you think

we can get people to see us differently?

Puck: I don’t know. (He leans in but Rachel stops him)

Rachel: I ca- I can’t do this.

Puck: You know, whoever made that Glist is gonna put you at number one when they find out you cheated on that Jesse kid with me. Besides, Jesse will never fully understand what it means to be a Jew.

Puck leaned in again, but Rachel stops him again.

Rachel: No, I-I’m ironically turned on by your bad boy image but I think we should just keep this professional.

Puck (scoffed): All right, I’m out. Why should I stay if there’s no chance of us making out?

Rachel: Uh, Noah... (takes his hand) Please come and sit down, and let’s work on the project. Okay? It’ll help us both, I promise.

–——–

Artie, Brittany, Kurt, Mercedes and Tina entered the library wearing bomber jackets and colorful pants.

Mercedes: Looks like we got a full house, y'all.

Artie: I’m kind of getting cold feet here.

Brittany: Can you even feel your feet?

Librarian: Shh!

Kurt: Team, listen up. If we pull this off, we will be legends at this school. We’ll rocket up the Glist. We’ll be top five, easy. Artie, pump up the jam. It’s about to go down.

Artie: U can’t touch this

Artie (The Group): My-my-my-my (U can't touch this) music hits me so hard makes me say, 'oh my lord thank you for blessing me, with a mind to rhyme and two hyped feet. It feels good. When you know you’re down A superdope homeboy from the Oaktown. And I'm known as such and this is a beat-uh! U can’t touch

Artie with the Group: U can’t touch this

The librarian came out from her seat and approach the teens. Artie: Here it comes.

Librarian: That was very cute. I'm gonna talk to my pastor and see if I can't get you kids to perform that for our Sunday service.

That didn’t work.

–——–

Will: Look, I don’t like doing this any more than you do but if I don’t find out who made that Glist and stop another one from being published the whole Glee Club's going down, and I can’t let that happen.

Will was investigating the members and the first one was Finn.

Finn: Look, I know I’ve been kind of angry lately, and sometimes I kick over chairs and stuff but I didn’t do it.

Will: All the pieces fit. You have a very big ax to grind with several people on that Glist. Quinn broke your heart, Puck betrayed your friendship you’re dealing with Kurt's dad dating your mom. And I happen to know you’ve had your ups and downs with Santana and Brittany.

Next up was Mercedes:

I have nothing against Santana, and I like Brittany. Quinn's the one that has a beef with them.

Will: Well, there are an awful lot of Cheerios on that Glist. Isn’t it true that you still feel like an outcast in that group?

Mercedes: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I like being a Cheerio. And why does everyone just assume I’m angry all the time? It's called being sassy, Mr. Schue.

Next was Artie.

Artie: It’s simple math, Mr. Schue. The Glists are posted at a height of five and a half feet, comfortably out of my reach. It could not have been me. And I have it on good word that....

Tina was next...

Tina: I saw Puck putting up the Glist in the hallway.

Then Puck...

Puck: I was moving it! Somebody put it on Rachel's locker, so I moved it. I was being a man, doing the right thing.

Will: At some point, Puck the lies are gonna stop, and you’re gonna start to sing.

Puck: If I did it, why would I put myself at number three? As far as badasses go, I'm number "wha." I’ll say it again, I didn’t do it!

Then Brittany but....

Brittany: I don’t know how to turn on a computer.

Quinn was next.

Quinn: Rachel did it. Think about it. I stole the guy she's in love with then stole the guy she dated to get over the guy she’s in love with and I’m a bitch to her.

Will: Just doesn’t seem like Rachel.

Quinn: She’s gone behind your back before. And I mean, who's to say that there's only one culprit?

Will slams his hands on the table. Will: Look, I know you know something! So we’re not leaving here until I get some answers!

Kurt looked at him oddly. Kurt: Mr. Schuester, may I be blunt?

Will [Sighs]: Shoot.

Kurt: Ever since you separated from your wife you’re spent a lot of late nights watching reruns of Law & Order, haven’t you? (Will looked down) Hmm. Thought so and no, I didn’t make the Glist.

Will: [Sighs] Right.

Kurt: We’re as menacing as Muppet Babies which means our squeaky-clean reputations are still very much intact.

Artie: We have to do what we’re been dreading something more terrifying than Rachel's personality. We have to go to Sylvester and admit that we posted the "Physical" video.

Tina: But we’ll get suspended.

Kurt: It will be worth it. Finally, the entire student body will see us as badasses.

—–—–

The School Bell Rings, as the five Glee kids were on the hallway. Artie: Remember, if Sylvester hits you in the face after you cop to posting the video don’t scream like a woman.

Mercedes: You’re so brave for doing this, Kurt.

Kurt: I know. Thank you.

Mercedes: Oh, my God! Alarming Kurt.

Kurt (approached her): Coach Sylvester, can I have just a minute of your time?

Sue: What do you want, lady-face?

Kurt: You’re aware a tape was leaked onto the Internet causing you to become a national laughingstock? We stole the tape from your syringe-and-pill drawer. We posted it online. We’ll accept whatever punishment you see fit.

Sue: So it was you. I can’t thank you enough.

—–—

Later, the five were in a classroom looking up on the laptop. Artie: She wasn’t angry at all. It was weird.

Tina: Maybe the comments online have gotten so mean, and people have started to feel sorry for her. She’s finally getting some sympathy, so she’s in a forgiving mood.

Kurt found a link that got his attention. Kurt: Wait a second. Take a look at this.

Mercedes: Isn’t that...

It was Sue Sylvester and Olivia Newton-John doing Physical together.

Mercedes (letting out a breath): Phew!

Mercedes + Tina: Again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again! Banging the table.

Artie: I need to learn to do this verse.

Brittany: All day.

–—–—

It was someone's project for Glee Club. Will: All right, guys, listen up. Another week has almost passed. If a list goes up again later today, this issue is out of my hands and it becomes Principal Figgins's jurisdiction.

Finn: Seriously, Mr. Schue, whoever made that list is not gonna come forward. We might as well just bend over and take whatever's coming.

Will: Fine. Okay. Well, then, uh, let’s get to it. Rachel, how 'bout you show us your bad reputation project?

Rachel: I’d like to say a few words first, though I understand that a motion picture should stand on its own I do realize that some of you are not well-versed in the complex vocabulary of the filmic arts. I expect that this video will go over some of the heads of our less-cultured teammates. So let me just say I hope you enjoy my bad reputation. Lights. Okay, go.

The film started with Santana and Brittany as angels.

Brittany and Santana: Aaaaaaah Aaaaaaaaaah, Aaaaaaah Aaaaaaaaaah.

Rachel appeared as the main protagonist.

Rachel with Brittany and Santana harmonizing: Daddy, please don’t , It wasn’t his fault. He means so much to me, Daddy please don’t. We’re gonna get married

Rachel: Just you wait and see

The video starts out in Puck's room, with Puck starring as Joey.

Puck: Every night, the same old dream, I hate to close my eyes. I can’t erase the memory, the sound of Julie's cry. She called me up, late that night She said, "Joe, don’t come over". My Dad and I just had a fight and he stormed out the door. I’ve never seen him act this way, My God, he’s going crazy

Puck with Brittany and Santana harmonizing: He said he’s gonna make you pay, for what we’ve done, he’s got a gun.

Puck with Brittany and Santana: So run, Joey run, Joey run!

Rachel with Brittany and Santana harmonizing: Daddy, please don’t , It wasn’t his fault. He means so much to me, Daddy please don’t. We’re gonna get married

Rachel: Just you wait and see

The scene was outside in a red car with Jesse as Joey #2.

Jesse: Got in my car, drove like mad, Til I reached Julie's place. She ran to me, with tear-filled eyes and bruises on her face. All at once I saw him there, sneaking up behind me (Rachel: Watch out!) Then Julie yelled, "He’s got a gun!"

Then Finn was Joey #3. Sandy Ryanson was Julie's dad with a gun up.

Finn: And she stepped in front of me. Then, suddenly, a shot rang out and I saw Julie falling.

Finn with Brittany and Santana harmonizing: I ran to her; I held her close, when I looked down, my hands were red!

It was fake blood on Finn’s hand.

Finn: And here’s the last words Julie said:

Rachel: Daddy, please don’t. It wasn’t his fault, he means so much to me. Daddy, please don’t We’re gonna get married.....

Brittany and Santana: Aaaaaaah Aaaaaaaaaah

Julie dies.

Jesse with Brittany and Santana: Run, Joey, run, Joey, run,

Finn with Brittany and Santana: Joey, run,

Puck with Brittany and Santana: Joey, run,

Finn, Jesse, and Puck (with Brittany and Santana harmonizing): Joey, run, Joey, run.....!

Rachel: Well, why don’t we just, um, take a moment to really absorb what we’ve just watched?

Finn (angry): This is garbage!

Will (coming to defense): Finn!

Puck: No, he’s right. I need to trust my instincts more because I had a feeling when we were shooting that it was not gonna be good.

Will tried to speak up but Jesse cut in.

Jesse: Why didn’t you tell me they were in this too? I thought you and I were going out. Being triple cast with two other guys to play opposite your girlfriend- it’s mortifying.

Rachel: It was an artistic statement.

Finn: No, it wasn’t! It was you trying to look like you had a bunch of guys fighting over you so you could stop looking like some kind of outcast and be seen as some hot, slutty girl singer! (Finn then stood in front of her.) How could you do this to me, to all us guys? Is your stupid reputation more important than your relationships?

Jesse left the room. Rachel: Jesse, wait.

—–—–

Will walked out of Emma's office and saw how Quinn was behaving.

Will: I know you’re behind the Glist.

Quinn: You have no proof. I can’t believe that you’re gonna pin this on me. I’ll be expelled. I mean, it makes sense. Everything else has been taken from me- my popularity, my body. Might as well throw away my education.

Will: You know when I realized that you did it? The moment I felt what it was like to walk in your shoes. I mean, it takes years to build a good reputation but only seconds to destroy it. Couple bad choices, and you go from the top to the bottom. (Got on his knees) You have lost so much, Quinn which means you had the most to gain from the Glist.

Quinn (cries): I never meant to hurt anybody.

Will: I know.

Quinn (scoffs): I was captain of the cheerleading squad, president of the Celibacy Club. I had Finn. People would part like the Red Sea when I walked down the hallway. Now I’m invisible.

Will: And you think being seen as a cheap tramp is better?

Quinn: A bad reputation is better than no reputation at all.

Look, I know that high school feels like your whole life right now but it’s going to end. You’re gonna give that baby to a family who really wants it, who’s gonna love it and then you are gonna go on to do amazing things, Quinn.

Quinn: You really think that I can get it all back one day?

Will [Exhales]: No. I think you can get something even better. I mean, come on! You're Quinn Fabray, right? [Quinn Chuckles] Those people didn’t part when you walked down the halls, you moved them with your attitude.

Quinn: Thanks, Mr. Schue. You’re a really good teacher even if everybody is calling you a man-whore.

Figgins (enters the choir room): You wanted to see me, William? I trust you have come up with the perpetrators of the Glist.

Will: I, um-I grilled every single one of my students and, uh, no one no one copped to making the Glist. They all closed ranks and wouldn’t rat out who did it.

Figgins: That’s poppycock, Will. I will not let this school be held hostage by juvenile shenanigans.

Will: I know, but I mean, your point has been made. The Glists have stopped. I think we should just call this a victory and move on.

Figgins: Fine. I’m still praying for you, Will.

Quinn: [Whispers] Thank you.

–——–

Rachel opened her locker but then Jesse stood beside it. Rachel: Hi. Are you still mad at me?

Jesse: You know, before I transferred here to make you my girlfriend I asked around about you, found out your rep, what kind of girl you were.

Rachel: What did they say?

Jesse: Most of them had no idea who you were. The ones that did said you were kind of sneaky hot but that that quality was canceled out by a compulsive need to be right and a strange affinity for sweaters with animals on them. The most interesting part was that even though no one particularly liked you they all said you were a person who could be trusted.

Rachel: I still am! I have this pathological need to be popular, okay? I- I just want people to think I’m cool so bad sometimes that it just clouds my judgment. As a fellow star in the making, I’m sure you can understand that.

Jesse: On that level, sure. As the guy who gave up everything to be your one and only I just can’t see past this. I should have been enough for you, Rachel.

Rachel: I knew you’d break my heart.

Jesse: Well, that’s the funny thing about reputations. Everyone thinks I’m the big heartbreaker but the fact of the matter is you broke mine first. Do me a favor. If we end up next to each other on the bar at Ballet Club this week just do your arabesques and piqués in silence. Don’t talk to me. (Walks away from her, completely hurting her) (But who cares.)

—–—–

Time for one last performance from Rachel since eshe hurt Finn and Jesse but Puck didn’t care that much.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Total Eclipse Of The Heart BY Bonnie Tyler

Finn: Turn around

Rachel: Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming round

Puck: Turn around

Rachel: Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears

Jesse: Turn around

Rachel: Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes

Finn: Turn around bright eyes

Rachel: Every now and then I fall apart

Rachel with New Directions harmonizing: And I need you now tonight And I need you more than ever, and if you only hold me tight. We’ll be holding on forever and we’ll only be making it right, Cause we’ll never be wrong. Together we can take it to the end of the line, your love is like a shadow on me all of the time (New Directions: All of the time) I don’t know what to do I’m always in the dark. We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks (with New Directions: I really need you tonight) Forever's gonna start tonight (New Directions: Forever's gonna start tonight)

Once upon a time there was light in my life

Rachel with Finn: Now there’s only love in the dark, nothing I can say, Total eclipse of the heart

Jesse: Turn around bright eyes

Rachel: Every now and then I fall apart

Jesse: Turn around bright eyes

Rachel: Every now and then I fall apart,

And I need you now tonight And I need you more than ever, and if you only hold me tight. We’ll be holding on forever and we’ll only be making it right, cause we’ll never be wrong. Together we can take it to the end of the line, your love is like a shadow on me all of the time (New Directions: All of the time) I don’t know what to do I’m always in the dark. We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks (with New Directions: I really need you tonight) Forever's gonna start tonight (New Directions: Forever's gonna start tonight)

Everyone started to leave the room, with Finn going first and Rachel didn’t like it.

Rachel: Once upon a time I was falling in love

Rachel with Jesse: Now I’m only falling apart There’s nothing I can do

Rachel: A total eclipse of the heart

Jesse: Turn around bright eyes

Jesse was the last one to leave the room, leaving Rachel all alone.

#transcript #glee

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teacherintransition · 11 months ago

Text

Would You Do It Again? You Know …The Big Picture

Transitioning means rethinking…I think

Since my life change three years ago, I’ve forced myself to re-examine the years of my life and analyzed my choices and the reasons why they were made. I know you can’t go back and redo anything, but I can avoid errors for the future. I also suppose it’s the teacher I am to share what wisdom I’ve picked up from my unwise modus operandi of my younger years. Regrets? Yeah, I have a few (thank you Ol’ Blue Eyes); nothing overwhelmingly depressing, but definitely things to learn from and to share. I have sons aged 38, 31 and 28; I have made good friendships with students from over thirty years that often ask my advice …a very flattering gift. It’s refreshing to know I still have things to teach.

The abstract, big picture type of reevaluation are the most intriguing. Personal thoughts are valued, but what of the cultural, societal “rethinks” you have when taking time to look back. First among these new conclusions is why did I wait to my fifties to challenge some assumptions? We should always question and challenge the path of conformity; no matter our age. Often these are rules that other people have made over generations based on lives that really have nothing to do with us. I’ve always advised my students to avoid feeling forced to play life “by the numbers.” It ain’t always what it’s cracked up to be sports fans! Every life should be a striving to live as uniquely as possible… yeah, it’s that possible that we need to challenge …uh, um …when possible.

My life hasn’t been overly ambitious as I’m a firm believer in as Dr. Spock said, “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” thus working for chump change as an educator in Texas. There’s got to be some wiggle room somewhere…right? I think people that dedicate their lives to service; teachers, first responders, military, nurses etc etc struggle the most with this. That being said, we all conform to certain rules of the road that don’t really contribute to our daily lives. I do not advocate selfishness, but I like the current term “self care” a helluva lot.

In that mindset, we are told to work, work, work and put off personal dreams until you’re older. Let me just say to my younger readers, uh, this is a rethink. Henry David Thoreau warns us, “that the mass of men live lives of quiet desperation.” Ain’t that the truth; paths set forth by people who we never have met. How many lives are burdened with chains that do not create personal freedoms? Are we free of debt? How much of that debt is pushed on us? Is there freedom from stress, fear, anxiety, indignity, betrayal, ridicule, failure? You know the answer. I’m not naive, Buddha tells us the first noble truth is that our lives are filled with suffering and loss, but the wise teacher then tells us that the second noble truth is that we are to joyfully participate in this life of loss and suffering. Looking back, these truths aren’t contradictions.

The eternal anguish is the thought that given the chance, if we knew then what we know now, would we do the same things over? It’s a very personal conclusion, but damn, don’t we all NOT want to live lives of quiet desperation? I dunno the answers, being a teacher, writer, artist I discovered early on that conformity was my cup of tea. We all feel enslaved and trapped at times keeping up with the Joneses, but I suppose I’d recommend taking some time, no matter what your age, to stop and question your choices, potential or those already made and see what truly makes you and your family happy. It’s only life after all.

#open mind #retirement #coffetime #stress #change #teacher #i need friends #health #writing #education

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angstfactory · 1 month ago

Text

"Fuckin' Christ, man, I knew shit all of what I was walkin' in to, alright? You caught me off-guard -- you never mentioned kids before," Jesse got out, unable to keep himself out of the defensive. "I don't know what I'm ready for, that's just the truth. I got a fuckin' niece I dunno what to do with yet as it is."

His arms came out at his sides. "Do I fuckin' look like kids material?" Jesse shook his head, as if to answer his own question. He might look a little nicer tonight than normal, but it was all a smokescreen. On any other day, he was nothing but faded bluejeans and greasy palms, and that foul mouth. "I don't know what I'm doin' in my own damned life." To put him in charge of anyone else's? He just felt that was beyond reckless.

It was like a kick to the gut, when Cassidy claimed he was too fucked up to even be friends. So, what? He was just going to be muscled out completely? There was nowhere to go from here?

He frowned, staring back at the other man. Jesse felt like he was being told he wasn't good enough to be just friends with, either. So he didn't want to date him (forget the kid stuff for now!), didn't want to be friends. Didn't want to be around him at all. "Right, so I guess that's it then? I'm supposed to just fuck off completely, huh?" Cassidy almost had him convinced. He almost believed the guy didn't think he was a piece of shit, and that apology had been sincere. What a fucking chump he was.

"Maybe later down the road.." Jesse laughed, the sound hollow. "Yeah, how 'bout no?" He took another drag of the cig before snuffing it under boot and pushing off from the bricks. "I think I fuckin' got the message loud n' clear -- can't believe you were on my ass 'bout leavin' n' you knew damn fuckin' well you ain't planned to see hide nor hair of me even if I stayed. Fuckin' bullshit." Cassidy hadn't even known why he was going, either. They never got to talk! They never talked about shit. And now the man was making it clear he didn't ever want to get to a point of talking, either. He didn't want to know Jesse.

Those walls against the other man were being built right back up. Jesse felt like shit. He was hurt. Hurting. There was finally someone he actively put himself out on a limb for, someone he wanted to get close to and know. Genuinely excited and drawn to be around. And kiss senselessly whenever the mood struck-- which was often. Someone that, for a brief second there, made him think he might even be good enough for their attention and they returned the sentiment. But it was all bullshit. They had a nice night together. That's all it was going to be. Now he had to deal with swallowing that pill, on top of all the other shit going on.

This wasn't even Cassidy's fault, really. It was Jesse's. He'd gone soft and let himself think things might be different for him this time.

"You want me to fuck off, I'm fucked off." He started towards the door before he stopped, turning to face the other man. "N' for the record, yeah," there was a slight tremor to his tone, which only caused him to raise his voice some to make it go away, "you're a giant fuckin' asshole." This time, it was Jesse needing to get away as he went back inside and left the other in the alley. Funny enough, he didn't want to be around Cassidy then. He wanted a fucking a drink. Several, in fact.

For the most part, Cassidy stared at the brick wall across from him as he smoked. There was this dread, waiting for the bottom to drop as he tried to hold his breath waiting for Jesse to say something. Anything to break this agonizing silence between them.

A brow lifted as he turned towards the other male. “As I recall, you were not the one ready. At least not ready for certain parts of my life.” Cassidy commented quietly.

The next part hurt, because at the end of the day Cassidy knew he could not just be friends with Jesse. How could he? The feelings were there and he would constantly go over everything in his head day in and day out. What did Jesse mean by this? Did Jesse give me a look today? Even now, just thinking about it was causing his head to spin.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I am.”

Sure, the idea sounded lovely. But it wasn’t feasible, at least not for Cassidy.

With his sights on Jesse, he peered into the man’s eyes. “Listen Cowen, I can’t just be friends with you. I’m sorry if that makes me an asshole, but it would drive me crazy. Maybe later down the road, but right now I can’t. I–I just can’t. It would be too hard and I would always be wondering about the what-ifs.”

#cassidy & jesse #;; a bluejean serenade some kind of slick chrome american prince 🐎#ravensmasquerade

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

Note

I come bearing a request! The Brothers with an MC who's really good at cooking and baking? Like, the stuff food blogs dream of. Master-level instagram pastries. Could compete with the chocolate guy if they put their mind to it.

👀 ooooo, I do love me some pastries-

(I know you have an *ahem* distaste for Lucifer, dear moot, so enjoy Lucifer acting like a bit of a dingus in his section!)

Lucifer

Oh, the human can cook. *insert asshole eyeroll here*. Great. Wonderful. Groundbreaking. That’s what’s got all his brothers acting like- what was that word Levi used? Simps? This human has turned six of the seven rulers of hell into a bunch of simps.

Sure, the human has near godlike cooking prowess. Sure, everyone looks forward to their day for cooking. And sure, everyone thinks the human’s pretty great.

Tsk, not him though. He’s a refined demon. Some silly food isn’t going to make him a lovesick fool… did he smell eclairs..?

Lucifer peered into the kitchen to see MC carefully taking a tray of eclairs out of the oven and letting them cool off on the counter. His favourite dessert… right there in front of him…

Due to not being a total moron, MC notices Lucifer and asks him what the hell he’s doing just standing ominously in the doorway. Lucifer makes up some bullshit excuse about reminding MC to do their homework and just leaves. Okay, game plan, he needs those fucking eclairs or he will spontaneously combust.

As he snuck into the kitchen that night, Lucifer took a moment to briefly wonder why he was creeping around his own house. He was the Avatar of Pride for pity’s sake! He could eat whatever he damn well pleased! Oh shit was someone coming- no? Okay, back to sneaking.

Lucifer crept into the kitchen, saw the eclairs, and all logic was thrown out the window. Time to eat!

“BEEL NO! NOT THE- Lucifer..?” “…” “…” “…you’re very talented, MC, do you mind making more of these?”

SOMEONE SNAP A PICTURE! THIS IS THE CLOSEST LUCIFER HAS GOTTEN TO BEGGING IN THE LAST THOUSAND YEARS!

Mammon

Ugh, stuck babysittin’ some dumb human, how lame…

As Mammon was throwing a “I’m broke and I’m stuck in a pact with a dumb human” pity party, the most heavenly smell entered his nostrils. Cooking… good cooking… was Barbatos visiting or somethin’? Nah, Lucifer woulda made a big fuss about gettin’ ready for Lord Diavolo. Huh, so what was goin’ on in the kitchen?

Huh? The human? The human can cook? Well damn, maybe this whole deal wouldn’t be so bad. Oi! MC! As payment for babysittin’ ‘em, he got to have an extra big share of- OW!

Did- did the human just hit him with a spoon?! Th-they can’t do that!

Apparently they fucking can. Mammon gets told to sit the fuck down and wait for the food like everyone else. He grumbles on the way to the dining room, but he can’t fully hide his excitement to try the food.

The food even looked pretty! How did they do that?! Magic. It had to be!

After everyone’s tastebuds were blessed with the heavenly substance that is MC’s culinary exploits, Mammon decides he needs to get on this human’s good side in order to receive more food! Maybe even find some way to make a profit or somethin’!

After weeks go by of trying to suck up to the human without looking like too much of a chump, Mammon eventually realizes… hey, this human ain’t so bad. They’re nice, they make him feel good about himself, they give him headpats… he’s really hit the jackpot here!

He’ll offer to help MC bake or cook, but beware, he will try and sample the food before it’s done. Don’t let him lick the spoon!!!

Leviathan

First thought? This human ain’t shit. Thought after seeing their food? WOAAAAAAAH! JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME-

He was unceremoniously cut off by Beel asking demanding seconds. Humph, fine, he doesn’t actually care about this dumb normie food anyway.

…well at least until Levi saw a little something something on TV that he just had to ask MC to try and make. He shyly knocked on their door and when they answered, Levi shoved the screenshot in their face and stuttered out a dinner request.

On the day MC was supposed to make dinner, Levi poked his head into the kitchen and tried to make it look like he was just standing in the same room as MC and not checking to see if they were making his dinner request.

Not that he’d blame them for not doing that… who’d wanna make some anime dinner for a yucky Otaku- OMG JAHSHSHABA THEY’RE MAKING IT! *fangirl squeals*

As Levi continues to commit the SIN of being in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, MC eventually just asks him if he’d like to help out.

“Here! Just keep turning the takoyaki.” “R-really? You trust me?” “Yes, Levi. You watched how they made it on your show, right?” “Yes! I won’t mess up! I swear on my honour as an otaku!”

All in all, it was a very cute bonding experience for the two. Now it’s a regular thing. Levi requests something for dinner or dessert, MC makes it, Levi helps out.

Satan

So, the human can cook. That’s nice. At least someone in this literally god forsaken house can.

He makes sure to thank MC every time they cook, then he makes sure to thank whatever deity is watching over him that Solomon wasn’t the human staying with them.

As the months progress, Satan realizes, he should learn how to cook better. I mean, Levi and Mammon were somehow both improving in their cooking endeavours, and if MC could teach those two, then he would be a breeze.

Satan walked into the kitchen and simply asked if MC needed any assistance with what they were doing. MC just slid him some garlic to dice and that’s how this mentor/student relationship was formed.

Satan was a star pupil, but Mammon and Levi weren’t above trying to sabotage Satan’s progress to get him to leave.

Here’s the thing, the sabotage worked, but it only worked once, and the two idiots didn’t stop to think that maybe they shouldn’t sabotage the meal they were going to have to eat later.

Well, cooking lessons continued uninterrupted after the ghost pepper incident…

Even when he’s ‘graduated’ their little cooking class, Satan’s always willing to lend a hand if needed. He also will slyly hand over some recipe books and cute baking supplies that he finds. MC should be prepared for lots of cat related things to come their way.

Asmodeus

The human can cook? Oh frabcious day! He’s saved from a life of his brother’s mediocre cooking! And the human’s so cute too! What a bonus!

Not only is the human cute, but their food is just so… aesthetic??? Pretty???? Omigosh he just has to get a picture for Devilgram!

For the first few months, MC’s relationship with Asmo consists of Asmo not at all subtly asking to take pictures of their food and post it to his Devilgram. Listen MC, his followers would just love it!

Being the saint-sheep they are, MC lets Asmo sit in whenever they’re making anything in the kitchen. And Asmo slowly realizes “hey, this cute human with the awesome food is actually pretty cool too!”

New Mission: Make the human fall madly in love with him so they’ll want to hang out more.

Whether the mission succeeds is up to MC of course. (I mean, I’m already smitten with him sooooooooo-)

MC offers Asmo a lot of the pastries they make, but the Avatar of Lust almost always declines. Listen honey, he’s on a diet- wait, don’t make that sad face! He’ll eat it! Look! It’s- it’s delicious…

Diet cheat day is now every day MC makes dessert. The feeling of bliss Asmo gets when he takes a bite out of anything MC makes is only second of the treats is second only to the joy he feels at seeing MC happy that he likes their food. It’s just so wholesome I can’t-

MC’s food Devilgram has almost surpassed Asmo in terms of followers and honestly- he isn’t even mad.

Beelzebub

Gasp! Lucifer finally got him the pet personal chef he’d always wanted! Thanks big bro! :D he’ll be sure not to eat this human!

On the first night MC was supposed to make dinner, Lucifer needed to hold Beel back from breaking into the kitchen to see what was causing that heavenly smell. It was, difficult… especially because Lucifer hadn’t slept in three days.

When they all sat down to eat, Beel practically inhaled everything and held up his half bitten plate for seconds.

We here at Stupid Headcanons incorporated recommend that MC have as many bodyguards as possible stationed around the kitchen at all times to ward off a hungry Beel. We don’t want him eating the ingredients and half-tempered chocolate.

A cinnamon roll through and through, he’ll eat everything MC gives him with a big ol’ smile on his cute little face. He’s not the best person to go to if MC wants advice or critique because the best thing Beel can usually muster is “it was really good.”

As Luke said in Lesson 5, Beel would make an awful food reporter. But we love him.

Similar to Levi, he’ll give meal requests on what to make for dinner. (At this rate, MC’s going to have to make some kind of list).

He kind of just waits by the door like a sad puppy whenever MC is making anything because he can’t get into the kitchen :(

Belphegor

The smell of freshly made chocolate chip cookies wafting through the house did reach the attic and it only fuelled his rage more. How dare the human win everyone over with cookies?!

After the attic incident, Belphie was won over with cookies.

Belphie just stands creepily in the kitchen doorway whenever MC is making anything and just makes shit really uncomfortable. Why’s he doing that, you may be wondering, well, he’s trying to calculate the energy needed to swipe the bowl of cookie dough and sprint to safety.

He never succeeds, mainly because once he gets to the bowl, MC already has the wooden spoon ready to smack him, so he just freezes mid-theft and slowly puts the bowl down.

“Oh my gosh, it says let the bread dough rest overnight? Let’s get a headstart and go to sleep now.” “Belphie what-” “I made a pillow Fort, come in. Let’s sleep.” “In the kitchen????”

How’d he make the pillow Fort without MC noticing? Years of experience. He’s trained in the art of- MC? What do you mean you can’t sleep right now and you need to get a head start on shaping fondant?

…he may have eaten the fondant while MC wasn’t looking… whoops… Beel may have rubbed off on him a little…

#Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me Headcanons #obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me mammon #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

Oohh how would shouta and hizashi take their submissive readers virginity?

(What to expect - virginity, NSFW, dubcon, noncon. If you’re wondering the type of piercings Hizashi has, they’re dydoes (or kings head) and a pubic piercing. MxM penetration, anal plugs (Hizashi’s wearing one while he diddles u hehe))

Gently, I imagine.

If their darling is submissive, too afraid to run or fight, then there’s no need for them to be harsh.

They can take their time, be sweet and loving.

"Shhhh, you're getting loud." Hizashi holds a fingers to your lips as you lay there, panicked whimpers, distressed whines tumbling out of you.

Shouta huffs at the irony, his fingers working at the button on your jeans, then the zipper, then hooking into your belt loops, tugging the pants down easily as you begin to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me, you’re alright.” Hizashi places a a hand against your chest, pressing you back against his warmth as he begin to take deep, steady breaths, encouraging you to do the same.

You can’t calm yourself though, eyes wide and fixed on the man in front of you, drawing your legs up and away from him as he rids you of your jeans, trying to keep your panties from his view.

If your wrists weren’t tied together, lashed to each other with soft, black ribbon, you’d be clutching at Shouta’s fingers as they ghost over your calves, up to your knees.

“P-please-” Is all you can whisper, fear settled so thoroughly in your body that you’re almost frozen.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be gentle. ‘Zashi’s just holding you so you don’t wiggle too much and hurt yourself.” Shouta’s words are measured, steady even when he slips a hand between your knees and forces them apart.

You want to sob, but you can’t. Shouta breathes out a quiet “fuck” as he looks at your panties, running a finger across the waistband.

“She’s shaking like hell Sho.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s just nerves. Everyone’s nervous their first time.”

It’s nerves, it’s fear, it’s terror and dread. You’re horrified, and scared, and you’re shivering as if the room is freezing, even though it’s warm, cozy.

Hizashi dips down, brushes his lips against your neck, and you flinch, your shoulder rising to push his head away, his mustache tickling your flesh.

“Hah, you ticklish? That’s so cute.” The blonde coos, his arms circling around your stomach as his husband begins to tug down your panties. You’re sitting in Hizashi’s lap as Shouta strips you, the two men working together.

The blonde is already shirtless, pants-less, in nothing but boxers. You can feel his warm flesh through your hoodie, pressed against your back.

“My first time, I came in my pants.” Hizashi chuckled, thumbs rubbing at your sides. “Embarrassed myself to tears. The other dude thought it was hot, dropped right to his knees and pulled out my dick and got to suckin’. It kinda hurt, but he was fingerin’ himself at the same time and well, teenage-me was able to get it up immediately.”

You suppose he’s trying to ease your nerves.

Shouta gets your panties off, tosses them to the side as a hand grips each of your ankles, and then you’re spread wide.

A cry gets caught in your throat at the humiliation, Shouta and Hizashi both pausing to peer at your pussy, Hizashi letting out a low whistle.

“Damn, you’re a fuckin’ snack!”

Shouta lets go of your legs, and you snap them shut, closing your eyes as your cheeks burn.

“When I first had sex, I was a one-pump-chump. The girl I was with at the time said it was fine, but I didn’t know how to get her off. I’ve learned a lot since then.” The dark haired man offered his own story, hand slipping between your legs no matter how you twisted or clenched your thighs.

“Wooo! Imagine that, little ole Sho losin’ it after one stroke!”

“That’s what happens when you lose your virginity when you’re thirteen, ‘Zashi.” But Shouta has a gentle grin on his face, and his words held no malice towards his husband. Just two men in love recounting stories.

The dark-haired man leaned towards you, one of his fingers petting slowly over your folds as he did. Shouta wasn’t shy about kissing you, his lips warm, soft, stubble prickly against your skin.

He pulled back, breathing hotly against your lips. “How do you touch yourself? What feels good? I don’t want to overwhelm you, it’s easy to see that you’re sensitive.”

You trembled even harder, sniffling, closing your eyes as his finger still ran softly over your folds, barely touching.

“Sweetie-pop, can you show us? Show us how you want us to touch you down there.” Hizashi’s hands were playing with the edge of your hoodie, easing it up, his warm digits skimming against your skin.

Both men are waiting on your answer, watching you with lust-filled gazes as they run their hands over your skin. They’re already touching you, burning your skin, and you want to scream. All that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“How do you masturabate? Do you like touching here-?” Aizawa presses his thumb to your clit, wiggles the digit and you tense, shaking your head.

“-Here?” His fingers trail down to your entrance, one slowly beginning to push inside. You whimper again desperately, shaking your head side to side while looking at the man in front of you with pleading eyes.

“’K, this is gettin’ old-” Hizashi interjected. “I’ll ask one last time, and then Sho’ and I get to touch you however we want to, got it? How do you want us to touch your cute lil’ pussy?”

“I don’t know!” You wail, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re so overwhelmed, and scared, and you just want to go home.

Neither man moves for a second, but then Hizashi is letting out a an excited sigh, hunching his back so he can kiss at your shoulder before questioning. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve never-never touched my-myself down there.” You manage to hiccup, and Shouta rubs your knee soothingly, his grey eyes trained on your face.

“That’s alright, there’s no need to cry.” One of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing away salty tears. “We just want to make you feel good.”

You’d feel good if they took their hands off of you.

The hand that’s been rubbing over your folds becomes bolder, parting the lips of your cunt even as you try to squeeze your thighs shut. All that does is trap Shouta’s hand against you, his fingers sending little jolts of unsteady fire burning through your tummy.

“Mm, wait, please-” You whimper, desperate to escape this sensation.

Aizawa doesn’t wait.

Hizashi slips his nimble fingers underneath your hoodie, rucks it up over your chest and you burn with embarrassment at being exposed like this. You want to hide your face, but with your wrists bound, all you can do is cover your eyes with shaky fingers.

“Look at ‘er, god, you’re delicious. Just wanna eat you up! Sho, after you finger her, think I could eat her out? I wanna taste.”

His lewd words make you cringe, and you can’t even think about how it would feel, the blonde pressed between your thighs, tongue laving against you over and over-

“One thing at a time, she’s already a bit dazed. Maybe another time.” Shouta’s gently stimulating your clit, brushing his knuckles over it, watching you twitch with each pass of his fingers against the sensitive little organ.

“Alright, relax now, okay? Breath out for me.” The man instructs, and you could almost laugh; if the man thinks you could relax, he’s an idiot-

A wet finger pushes inside of you slowly, and you gasp brokenly, mouth falling open. There’s so much pressure, you feel stretched and it almost burns, but he’s not stopping.

There’s a squelch, and cool liquid rushes over your hole, slips inside as the finger slightly retracts, and you shudder at the feeling. It’s weird and you feel like you can’t breath.

The finger inside rubs at your walls, and your muscles clench at the foreign sensation, unsure whether it feels good or bad.

“Calm down, you’re okay. I’m just stretching you out. Tell me if something feels really good, alright?” Shouta is acting as if he’s speaking to a child, a spooked rabbit, a baby. His eyes keep flicking between your flushed face and your pussy, enamored by the way you suck his finger inside, at the feel of your velvety walls, the slick feeling that he can’t wait to experience hugging his cock.

“I can’t, I can’t, please-”

“You can, doin’ so good for us sweetie.” Hizashi chirps, and you realize his hands are resting against your bare chest, idly squeezing at your breasts. You had been so focused on his partner’s actions that you had missed his coy advancement.

One finger turns to two, and two fingers turns to three, and you’re quickly reduced to a sweaty, blubbering mess, begging the men to wait, to slow down, writhing in Hizashi’s lap while his husband violates you.

The pressure fades away to a comfortable stretch, and by the time Shouta begins to move his fingers with intent, you’re already close to your limit. Your thighs are still clenched together tightly, but the dark-haired man has plenty of room to maneuver his hand, moving his fingers in and out, letting his thumb tickle your clit.

You can’t stop your legs from shaking, abs clenching in pleasure, little noises that fall from your mouth without your permission. It feels good now, and Aizawa and Hizashi seem to know it, speeding up their movements, manipulating your body as a team.

The orgasm that washes over you is gentle, the build up to it steady and measured. The pleasure is expected, and yet it still hits you like a train, hips jerking against Shouta’s hand as he continues to finger you through it, a smile on his face as you drench his hand, pussy drooling.

“I’m sorry, oh no-oh no I made a-a m-mess.” You sob, mortified at your body, at your reaction, feeling gross and disgusting and a sweaty mess while both men watch you fall apart.

But Shouta just slips his hand from between your thighs, holds it out towards you expectantly. You’re confused, still trying to hide your face behind your bound hands, but then the man behind you is leaning forward, sucking Shouta’s fingers into his mouth, right next to your face.

You can hear him sucking your juices off his husband’s fingers, feel the shame coloring your cheeks deepen and spread. He’s so noisy about it, licking the digits, running his fingers between them, and your pussy clenches when you catch sight of a piercing nestled in the middle of his tongue.

You feel dizzy.

“Mmm, just like I though-” Hizashi purrs as he cleans his husband’s hand. He pulls back, growls in your ear “-Delicious.”

Then the two men are switching positions, Hizashi handing you off to Aizawa who settles you easily onto your back, head in his lap. Hizashi pulls at your hips, lifting them up to stuff a folded pillow underneath them, and you begin to realize what’s happening.

“Wait! Please! Hold on, I-I-just wait, oh god, please wait!” The fear is evident as your voice cracks pathetically, but you aren’t above begging.

“’Zashi’s a bit smaller than I am, figured that he’ll be nicer to ease you into it. If-” He shoots his husband a glare “-He keeps his cool.”

Hizashi was grinning as he shucked of his boxers, completely shameless as he revealed himself to you. “Hey, can’t blame a man for bein’ a bit excited. I mean, look at this little sweetie, all laid out like this.”

You felt exposed, afraid. Hizashi’s length bobbed against his stomach as he moved forward, grabbing your legs and settling them on either side of his hips.

There was a piercing in his cock, several piercings.

He was circumcised, with a prominent mushroom tip that held three prominent barbells along the edge. Another barbell glinted ominously behind the curve of his dick, settled right at the base on the top, blonde pubic hair trimmed neatly to showcase the piercing.

“No, no please don’t. I’ll do anything, please, just not this! Please, please-”

“The piercings feel really good.” Shouta murmured, one hand cradling your head, the other pressed to your chest underneath your hoodie, keeping you anchored to the bed as you squirmed.

“I got this one ‘specially for you sweetie!” Hizashi took hold of his dick, pointed it down to show off the barbell in his pubic area, displaying it to you proudly. “It’s supposed to hit your cute lil’ clit when we’re going at it.”

The words washed over you, and the severity of your situation hit you. The planning required to get a piercing, have it heal-plus the idea that he expected to be actively using it with you again and again....

You started bawling.

“P-please! Don’t do this, please don’t! No no no no, no, no-” Your words were garbled, practically nonsensical, but that’s what you were trying to say. Whether or not they could understand you was out of your control.

“Hey, shh, shh. You’re okay sweetie.” The blonde placed a hand on your thigh, but that only served to make you sob harder.

“Calm down, we aren’t going to hurt you. It’ll feel good (Y/N).”

“No-oo! ‘M scared!!” You cried, and if your vision wasn’t blurry from tears, you’d have seen Hizashi’s green eyes soften, his lips twitch downward into a concerned frown.

The married couple looked at each other, Hizashi hesitant and moved by your teary display, but Shouta was firm.

“You’ll be okay. It’s normal to be a bit frightened during your first time. But ‘Zashi and I have a lot of experience, we’re going to take good care of you.”

You don’t have time to protest, Hizashi settling between your thighs again, those long hands of his guiding his cock to your drooling entrance.

Shouta’s kissing you then, insist, his tongue pressing against your lips, distracting you.

Hizashi pushes inside, you gasp, and Shouta plunges his tongue into your mouth. There’s too much sensation, between the warm rod settling into you and the slimy tongue slipping around your own, and you can’t do anything but cry.

You cry when Shouta pulls back, when he places a soft, uncharacteristic kiss to your nose, brushes your tears away with his hand.

You cry when Hizashi groans, finally seating himself balls-deep in your cunt.

You cry when he pulls out, thrust back in with a smooth roll of his hips, swearing underneath his breath.

Shouta leans over you, grabs his husband by the back of the head and pulls him in for a passionate kiss. Long blond hair slips over Hizashi’s shoulders, tickles against your skin but it’s just another sensation that you can barely register, overwhelmed and already too fucked-out to focus.

The piercing at the base of Hizashi’s cock does stimulate your clit, especially when the man presses himself flush against you, circling his hips in a quick grinding motion. The metal rubs against your folds and you feel like screaming, it feels good but you don’t want it to.

The metal through the flared mushroom tip keeps brushing against a spot inside you that has you seeing sparks, but you still feel uncomfortable, too full, too stretched.

Hizashi fucks you slow, his husband petting awkwardly at your face.

Minutes pass, you’re not sure how long, but then Hizashi is going a bit faster, then faster again, Shouta’s telling him to slow down, but the blonde pants out “Can’t Sho’, she feels so damn good-”

The metal keeps grinding across your clit, and then you’re shrieking as an orgasm slams into you full-force out of nowhere.

It had been feeling good, but the combination of the tip of Hizashi’s cock hitting your sweet spot, plus the barbell along his pubic bone rubbing your little nub as he humped your cunt had you spasming, mouth dropping open and your eyes rolling back.

The next few moments are hazy, but you know Hizashi pulls out, lets out a low groan and then there's a bit of warmth striping across your stomach. Aizawa is saying something in that low baritone of his, but you don’t know what.

Your limbs feel like jelly, you feel too hot but chilled at the same time, feverish, sweaty. Shouta pats your cheek “Still with us?”

“Uhnh....”

Aizawa laughed then, a full, throaty sound that made his stomach quake, and both you and Hizashi looked at him in surprise.

It was rare for the man to make such a noise.

“You good Sho’?” Hizashi asked, a puzzled smile on his face. Aizawa nodded, calming himself down a bit to respond, a broad grin still plastered across his features.

“I’m more than good, this is.... you were perfect.” The last bit is directed at you, and Aizawa leans down to kiss you, even though it’s clumsy and awkward. Still, he persists.

When he breaks away, he reaches for his husband, and pecks him on the lips, before shuffling backwards on the bed, your head sliding off his lap.

“Do’ya wanna lay down sweetie-pop? Or sit in the chair and watch?”

“Wha-?” You blink at the blonde, a hand rubbing at your puffy eyes. You’re thirsty.

“She’s exhausted, have her lay down. Plus, you can kiss her when you start getting too loud.” Aizawa prompts his husband, and Hizashi swats playfully at the dark-haired man, but heeds his advice.

You’re maneuvered up the bed, until your head rests on the pillows. Your wrists stay tied though, and your brows knit in confusion. Are they leaving?

No, Aizawa’s removing his boxers, Hizashi’s on his knees, his face by yours scrunched up as he reaches back to his rear.

A glimpse of Shouta’s cock, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful that you had been under his husband, and not taking the monster Shouta had been hiding behind his boxers.

But your attention is torn away by Hizashi, who’s holding up.... a plug, shiny with lube.

Shouta shuffles behind him, grabs his husband’s hips, and then Hizashi is kissing you, whimpering into your mouth as Shouta enters him.

You can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for Hizashi. At least he’s going to enjoy himself, sharing that part of himself with someone he loves.

Bitterness rises within you as you realize; you aren’t able to say the same.

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isagrimorie · 9 months ago

Text

This is again not a spoiler but a worldbuilding note and musings on Romulans:

So — this is the extent the Romulan Zhat Vash screwed their own people and the rest of the people in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.

Romulans asked for help relocating its citizens before the supernova happens (which was heavily implied that the Romulans accidentally caused themselves), after some debate, Federation and Starfleet answered the call. This meant moving all of the Federation machinery that’s been helping border worlds, worlds that’s not Federation but one that Federation’s been helping, to focus on the Romulan crisis.

Several of these worlds quickly fall with various warlords taking advantage of the power vacuum left behind by the Federation, Starfleet and various NGOs that’s part of the Federation. Fenris Rangers were just people patrolling around the worlds and weren’t really a fighting force of anything until the power vacuum.

AND THEN, the Romulans working under Zhat Vash were so paranoid of a robot apocalypse because they intercepted a message that’s NOT meant for organic brains and thought that having Synths around meant the end of the galaxy and organic civilization, when the message just meant: Hey, if you’re in trouble my Robot Brethren, we will appear and Help. (Maybe through Murder).

TLDR: They hacked the synths on Unitia Planitia and then BOMBED IT killing 100,000 people living on Mars, working on ships that were meant to help the Romulan population.

The Federation suddenly turn turtle and become gun shy helping other people and begin to just focus on internal Federation matters and stop any efforts to help Romulans. AND, I assume, and other planets that they were once helping, because they over extended their resources planning the Romulan evacuation and legitimately lost ships. Both that’s being made and old ones, and a lot of people with the expertise and know how.

See.

This is why I think Romulans are chump antagonist species. They will do anything to spit on their enemies, even cut off their own noses.

Starfleet doesn’t need to do anything to defeat a Romulan antagonist, eventually they just shoot themselves in the foot.

The unfortunate thing is the Romulan Zhat Vash also screwed over legitimate worlds that needed Federation help.

But also these Romulans in power trample on the other Romulans who truly get it, or they’re too much beholden to the Romulans in power that despite their better instincts unfortunately still follow their very flawed leadership.

In conclusion, I feel Starfleet shouldn’t follow the Algernon treaty and start building ships with cloak, because fuck the Romulan government and secret police.

Edited to Add: I do wonder how Janeway felt about all of this mess re: pulling out aid from Romulans. She’s already champing at the bit and furious with Starfleet with all their shenanigans about Seven and the ongoing shenanigans about losing track of Federation resources.

No spoilers to Star Trek Picard: Firewall, just worldbuilding lore.

But so far, David Mack’s depiction of the Fenris Rangers portray them a hell of a lot more organized than it has previously with Commanders and etc., they’re actually more organized than the Reclamation Agents aka Killjoys from the show Killjoys.

I don’t fault Mack for trying to bring some logic and sense to how Rangers operates.

Because what the hell does this word salad even mean???

decentralized, non-hierarchal, quasi-anarchist affiliation of independent operators working in and around the former Neutral Zone, pledged to defend the weak and vulnerable from the predations of the strong and unscrupulous. (source: Michael Chabon).

It seems Fenris Rangers are more professionally run Killjoys:

youtube

But also its very different with how Kirsten Beyer presented how Fenris Rangers operated in No Man’s Land, which was more loose-y goosey free wheeling organization.

Whose canon will take precedence in the Trek Litverse? Only time will tell.

#star trek #romulans #star trek picard: firewall #liveblogging firewall

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baecvlt · 4 years ago

Note

Hello hello! I looove your work! I was wondering if I could requests Kazuichi taking his best friend(or lover! Just thought friend would make it more interesting) on a late night car ride to test some adjustments he made to it, could end up with some steamy car sex? Hopefully this made sense! I've been craving this kind of fic

Car Sex: Kazuichi Soda x Reader

a/n: It’d be an honor to write this. Hope you enjoy! ALso VERY WELL ESTABLISHED FRIENDSHIP HERE + projecting my interests onto reader because I get selfish AND I feel like Kaz listens to rock/alt/indie music. K byeee. ALSO READER IS FEM, pls specify next time

It was a Friday night, you were out for dinner with your best friend, Kazuichi Soda. You were glad to finally get out the house. It got lonely, plus you got to catch up with him and see him personally. He offered to pay for your meal, you allowed it since this time you were tight on money. As he paid, you notice he was excited about something.

“I know this is so last minute,” he began,“But I was wondering if you’d come back to the shop with me”

You nodded, but remained curious. “Of course, I’ll go, but why?”. He leaned toward you and he was excited. His leg was shaking and hands slightly shaking. “I’m finally finished with my car!,” he cheered,“I want you to be the very first to join me for a test drive!”. You smiled. Kazuichi had been working on this car since high school. He almost gave up on it too, so you were happy he never gave up on it. “Of course I’ll go!,” you told him, just as cheerful as he was. You both has walked to the restaurant, now walked back to the shop.

His family was there, closing the shop up. You obviously greeted them. He walked right past them and to the garage. A sheet was on top of the car. Once you were in the room, he walked towards it. He grabbed the sheet, doing a small countdown. “3..2..1-”. He yanked the sheets off, revealing a new and improved car. “So, what do ya think?”. You were excited with him now. “Jesus, the paint job on this is amazing!,” you said to him. “‘May have taken me my whole high school and half my college experience to finish it, but it was worth it!”.

“Totally”

“What do ya say? Should we take it out for a spin”

“You don’t have to ask me twice”

He cheered quietly, opening the passenger door for you and hopping into the driver’s side. He opened the garage door, pulling out of the driveway. He had only driven down the street and you saw how nervous he was. You grabbed his hand, he gasped when you did. “Hey, I’m sure the car is fine, don’t stress out”. He smiled, putting his arm around you. You relaxed laying back. You drove around for about half an hour, going up some hill to a mountain. “Where are we going?,” you asked him.

“We’re gonna look at the stars”

“Ooo, nice”

He parked by the edge of the mountain. It was weird because no other cars were to be seen. Usually there were. “By the way, I wanna show you the coolest thing here,” he said, opening the glove compartment. He took out a CD, Slowdive's 1993 album Souvlaki, and revealed he had a working stereo. "Holy shit, it works?," you were excited. He nodded, popping in the CD. "I love Slowdive," you mumbled. He smiled, chuckling a little.

"I know. You were listening to it the day we met"

"Oh! I was...Yeah, I remember you came up to me that day. You were so awkward"

"Right? God, I feel like I acted like a douche"

"You were like,'Hey, we shouldn't be able to hear your music'"

"Yeah, yeah. Then you were all,'Oh, sorry!'. Then, I was like,'Don't worry, but anyway, Slowdive, huh?'"

You both laughed. "God, I felt that you were trying to hit on me that moment," You told him,"But you're just...you're really nice". Smiling, he shook his head. "Do you miss high school?," he asked. You thought about it for a moment. Did you? "You know what," you began,"Partially". He was confused. "What do you mean?".

"Well, we all had good times in high school. We had good friends, all those memories. We've kinda drifted away, but that's why I partially miss it"

"So why don't you?"

"I felt like I didn't belong"

He looked at you sympathetically. "You all had an established talent. I didn't," you told him,"Sometimes, I still wish I hadn't gone". Hearing you say so saddened him. "But you're good at a lot," he said,"You were better than everyone there". "You're just saying--".

"No! I swear, you are talented at a lot. It was just never put into one thing. You aren't alone either. Hajime never had an exact talent, Nagito won a lottery...you belonged there just as anybody else. You are a Jack of All Trades—"

"—Master of None."

"NO! You are the master of all!"

You smiled. "I care so much about you. I'm really glad we met. I just know that if we hadn't met my life wouldn't be the way it is now...," he said,"So, please, never say that again! You belonged there". You lay back in your seat, trying not to cry. For the first time in forever you felt like you had a place in the world, it felt weird, but not bad. You weren't used to feeling important. "Are you even happy with your life?". He looked at his thumbs when you asked him that. You were afraid of his answer, you didn't know why, but you were.

"There are somethings I wish I didn't have to deal with, but when I think about you, I realize that it's all worth dealing with...and that makes me the happiest man in the world"

"Kaz..."

He said your name, his voice low when he did. It interrupted anything you wanted to say next and your thoughts were racing. "I..I—". He sighed. You knew whatever he had to say next was not easy for him to spit out. "You know how important this car is was for me, it took up my entire high school year to work on. I know I had fun doing it, but I didn’t build it for me,” he sputtered and you could tell he was nervous,“I made this car so that...so that I'd have something to impress you with the day I had the courage to tell you how I really feel about you. I love you and I have for so long. I don't see myself being with anyone else and I wanted you to think of me as the coolest guy you'd ever met and now you probably think I'm a chump–"

You launched yourself towards him, attacking his lips and you felt his skin radiating. He felt as if he had been kissed by an angel. "I love you too, Kaz," you whispered. You really did. Crawling onto his lap, you pushed his hair back. "I wish it hadn't taken you so long to tell me," you added, frowning,"We could have done all these cute high school couple things, then moved onto adult couple things". He kissed you this time, his hands on your hips as you nibbled his bottom lip. He managed to move you both to the passenger side in order to prevent your back setting the horn off. He stopped for a minute.

"'Adult couple things'?"

"Yeah"

"Well, we're adults now, aren't we? And who says we're too old to do what high schoolers do"

"You're not wrong either...but are you interested in doing adult things with me?"

He blushed and looked away for a minute,"I, uh- I've never done it before. I was waiting do it with someone who loves me, y'know? But- you love me, right?". You laughed, nodding. He laughed too, shaking his head as he reached up your skirt, his calloused and rough hands rubbing your thighs. "Hoh-okay, you asked for it". He leaned forwards to kiss you, grabbing the waistband of your panties as his tongue entered your mouth. He pulled them down, allowing you to remove the rest by making his seat go further back. You kicked them off, going to unzip his jeans and pull those down too along with his boxers. He was already rock hard and made you throb just looking as his cock. It was slightly above average in both length and girth, but what did you expect from a dork like him?

You took off your entire skirt before climbing right back into his lap right after pulling them down, he smirked and lowly praised you: "Good girl". He kissed you a little more before he grabbed his cock, ready to guide it inside you. "You ready?". You were shaking, but uttered a soft,"Yes...". Before he could, the Slowdive song you were listening to when you first met started playing and you knew this was meant to happen. You melted when he heard it too. It means it meant something to him and it meant as much to him as it meant to you. "You remember this song, baby?". He pressed light kisses on your forehead as you nodded. You felt his tip at your entrance and you whined. "W-Wait! Kaz, please be careful," you begged. He nodded and kissed you again. "I'll be soft," he reassured you,"Besides, I want to take my time with you. Okay?". You took a breath and relaxed.

"Okay"

"Uh, wait- I should probably ask. Did you wanna do this laying down? I don't think it's fair if you're on top during our first. Plus, I don't want your back to hurt"

"Y-Yeah, my back was starting to ache a little"

He nodded, putting the seat all the way back, now mimicking a bed. You switched positions, spreading your legs for him. He put the volume on the stereo almost all the way up before picking your legs up. He positioned himself again, pushing in just the tip. You gasped quietly, breaking into a very sweet moan as he pushed in all the way, groaning lustfully. He repeatedly pushed in: deep, but slow. He only felt his erection grow harder seeing you blush. Your little moans and soft whimpers when he'd hit that one spot you thought only you would be able to reach made him twitch inside you. He tried to keep his composure, but your walls constantly pumping him made it almost impossible. He leaned forward, desperately trying to kiss you. You could've melted right then and there, seeing how this man made love to you. "I-I love you..," he whispered against your lips. God, he was so cute too.

"I love you too, Kaz, but this is a little too slow now"

"Please, tell me what you need"

"I want you fuck me harder"

"Whatever you say, princess"

His thrusts went from "slow and deep" to "abrupt and very deep". "Like that?". You kissed him in response, grabbing his hair and pushing his head to you. His hips snapped inside you, making it harder to control your breathing. At this point, the windows as fogged up, making the air around you hot. He grabbed your breast, massaging them. You did him the favor of unbuttoning your blouse. You grabbing his hand and slipped it under your bra. "They're so pretty and warm," he mumbled. You could tell he didn't want you to hear that from how low he said it, but you heard it well. He pulled your bra down to your torso, ducking his head down to be able to suck on your breasts a little. "K-Kaz! I'm really sensitive there!". He didn't respond, so entertained by your boobs, knowing playing with them made you feel good.

Your stomach was in knots and it was hard to hold anything anymore.

It took one really hard thrust, making you squirt. He didn't even know it could do that. You didn't cum all the way through, making it uncomfortable now. You felt like you were being edged. "Kaz, it doesn't feel good anymore".

"Do we stop?"

"No, no! Just...I need to cum"

"I'll get you there"

His hands went back to your hips, slamming into you fast and deep. Your body trembled, shaking as he hit your sweet spot again and again and again. "Is this okay?," his voice husky as he was nearing his orgasm too. You nodded, whining. "I-It feel so good..please don't stop," you cried,"It's so good!..". He went faster, grunting softly. You were near crying, about to release. "Are you gonna cum?". He was just as impatient as you were.

"I'm cumming, I-I'm cumming"

"I can't last anymore. C-Can I cum inside?"

"Please, baby"

He groaned you name, shooting his load in you. You knew it was a lot too, feeling it when you moved. He pulled out, laying on the other seat lazily. You were still so turned on, pumping your two fingers in and out of you, securing his cum inside you. "Good girl". You picked your braw up to cover your chest since it was getting cold. "You look so pretty," he added. You were blushing as he helped you with your clothes. Naturally, you helped him with his. "I hope this is a good time to ask, but...". "Yes?"

"I want you to be my girlfriend"

"I'm so glad you do. Yes, Kazuichi, I'll be your girlfriend!"

"Yes! Fuck Yes! Oh god, I'm so happy!"

You kissed his cheek, making him become even more giddy as he wrapped his arm around you and drove you to his home. Kissing on his bed, he hugged you tightly afterward as you shushed him to sleep.

#danganronpa #kazuichi danganronpa #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda smut #kazuichi souda smut #kazuichi smut #smut #x reader

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owo--bot · 3 years ago

Text

Loyal as a Dog // Sanzu x Reader

Masterlist:

Chapter 31: Cycle of Decay & Departure

wc: 9.5k

cw: arguing, angst, unhealthy/toxic behavior, cursing, plot progression

an: it's a doozy! Also, I hate tumblrs line spacing jfc it’s so ugly T^T

Let me sink into you.

No, it's not like that I swear.

You won't feel it.

Don't look at me with those eyes.

It's like you hate me.

You don't hate me, do you?

Tell me you love me,

Show me you love me,

This body is vulgar without it.

Trust me,

You haven't seen desperation yet—

—I haven't seen desperation yet.

I hear each bond cracking and mending.

What is this awful melody?

It’s the cycle of decay and departure.

It’s a world in which every rope frays.

My hands burn from tugging, so I take breaks to let go.

There comes a time in every business owner's life where they ask; why am I doing this?

Today was that day.

Or it would be that day, but the owners of fast food corporations live in a utopia separated from the average human filth. Instead, they hire some chump who wants to eat. It's a simple process. When they win that moron over with a penny and free sandwich for good measure, they hand over the keys and say something like: make this thing work, good luck. Although, since the fast food gods are such celebrities, they have their underlings hand off the keys to the lowerlings.

With that unnecessary and accurate explanation out of the way, we've reached the why factor. Why did it take until now for this fast food overseer to question this utopian job? Simple.

Teenagers are terrifying.

Their entry is an omen.

Smart overseers knew to quit while they still had a wife and kids. Coincidentally, this overseer must not need either, because fifteen omens were in his lobby. Somewhere along the line, they pushed a bunch of tables together. Frankly, the overseer stopped caring long ago—possibly since birth. As long as the omens didn't steal his retirement money, they could be loud and inconvenient to a moderate degree.

Side by side, the first division yapped amongst themselves. It wasn't often that everyone ate out like this and today was as odd a day as any. While there was an ongoing collective conversation, there were also individual ones. Out of many and obviously superior in all ways, one focused on a topic of life and death circumstances.

“Mr. Sanzu said I’m too immature. So, that must mean he only likes mature women,” you complained, teary-eyed and frantic, as you shuffled your trash around. “Right Mr. Baji?”

"Yeah, looks like you’re outta luck," he answered, unrelenting as ever.

“Do ya think he’ll love me if I’m an adult?”

“Couldn't tell ya, even if I wanted to.”

“I bet he would—but that's a super long time from now.” You tore at your hair. “Do ya think I still have a chance if I'm not an adult?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he yawned, putting his canines on display. “No harm in knowing when to quit.”

"Nobody likes a quitter, Mr. Baji."

"Yeah? Well nobody likes try-hards either."

"Uh-huh, they're even worse than murderers and weather-men. I bet no one would miss them if they were suddenly… I dunno, gone forever? But only the ones who tried too hard to be born any year before me. Minus kids." Radiating an immaculate air, your smile conveyed the end of all human suffering. "Leaving only the disgusting try-hard scum older than twenty to never be seen again."

Half of mankind just made the worst enemy.

If we're being honest, it's their fault for existing in the first place.

Your villain origin story blossomed within a fast-food chain.

"Bark all you want, they're not going anywhere." Baji grinned and sent you forward with an aggressively chummy slap on the back. "A small fry like you would end up getting bagged up instead."

……

You laughed in response while simultaneously sinking.

There was no denying its presence.

Everything seemed the same, but not.

It was off.

Baji was 'off'.

You could feel it. Feel what?

His tone of voice? The same.

His facial expressions? The same.

His engagement? The same.

His mannerisms? Once again, the same.

Everything was the same. Except it wasn’t.

Baji occasionally chimed in to each conversation while sporting an iconic grin. He looked happy but…

Absorbed in ‘what’s off’ thoughts, you stared down the raven haired delinquent as though he were an adult.

“What?” Baji asked.

You shook your head and smiled. “Not a thing.”

“If you got something to say, then say it.”

Repetitive in nature, the first occurrence was May.

October brought out the worst of it.

But October was the same.

So who's to say what 'off' really is, other than

—bad.

“Do ya hate me, Mr. Baji?”

“Where the hell’d you get that idea?” He scratched the back of his head. “Everything’s fine, ain’t it?”

“Tell me, do ya hate me?”

“I don't hate you, if I did you'd know.”

“I think ya do,” you said, bordering on accusatory.

“I don't, but if you don't knock this shit off, I might.”

The balancing act Baji was performing abruptly ended as the two elevated legs of his chair slammed back down to planet earth with a clack. The death of his casual tilt signified playtime had transcended into shut-the-hell-up time while irritation progressed to smear atop his features.

“My bad.” You scratched at your cheek, attempting to cover up the blunder with a smile.

There was no logic behind it, only

—emotion.

“Then… is something wrong?” You asked.

“Nothing I’m aware of.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What, you having trouble listening today? I said nothing, now stop asking.”

“Bummer.” You shot him a sinister grin. “I was hoping I could make ya slip up.”

“Hate to disappoint you but I got nothing to slip up on, so drop it.”

“‘Kay, since ya asked nicely, I will,” you taunted sweetly.

Baji furrowed his brow, looking ready to feed into your statement at any second. Instead, he opted to be the bigger person.

What a fine captain.

A role amongst models.

To function effectively as a unit, examples need to be set. Today, Baji decided to set a good example. Although if it were any other day, you'd be under verbal fire by now. Technically, still a good example; it’s called don’t egg on what can kill you.

Baji’s cup, aside from being empty, was being siphoned to call upon the obnoxious melody of: it’s ice. Just ice and maybe a few drops of melted ice. If it’s that dire, then fill it back up. Refills are meant to be free, even if they aren’t.

Baji sucked the skeletal remains out of his drink.

Straws are weapons of loud destruction.

Once that noise complaint of a distraction was out of the way, he focused his undivided attention to an ongoing distraction.

“You got something against your trash?” Baji asked.

“Meow—happy way early birthday.”

Amidst the tray of so-called trash was an amateur adaptation of a cat's face. With some fries here, some condiment cups there, a few fragments of plastic from a fork to spice things up, it was trash turned to treasure.

Arts and crafts, but make it fast food.

“Even if this is the best present anyone will ever give ya for the rest of your life, ya still gotta pretend you're happy when other people give ya inferior ones.”

Baji stared and opened his mouth to speak but instead, his head fell back in laughter.

Booming laughter.

The sound barrier was in danger of shattering.

“That's some real talent you got there.” He let out in hysterics, as if he'd never drawn something strikingly similar in pre-k. “You sure you don't wanna sell it off instead?”

“I'm not built for fame Mr. Baji. It's all yours.”

“That's too bad. You might've made enough to pay for your own meals for once.”

"Pass. I won’t be corrupted by currency.”

“Doubt you ever need to worry about that since you’re already corrupted by freeloading.”

"I chose my evil, but the scale can always tip." You shook your head in reflection. "Yup, that's a thought I lose sleep over."

"Man, you're gonna be the worst kinda person in a few years."

After staying well past food consumption recreation, a noisy group was on the move. Passing through the gates of all that is fast food, October greeted you through a pleasant breeze.

Right, there was still time to enjoy being alive before the next extreme season arrived. Since the reign of fire and pop sticks met an end, the reign of hypothermia and underage drinking would soon return. You were in good hands until that apocalypse of a season returned to cast hell upon those with borderline busted heaters. Autumn, aside from having good hands, was well mannered. Though its lifespan may be short, it existed for the purpose of one-upping its winter and summer brethren.

It didn’t have to try hard. Those guys were the worst.

In your current state, you were unfit for the upcoming activities. Wording it like that might be misleading, but meetings are still a form of activity. In a few hours, the entirety of Toman minus Baji would meet at Musashi Shrine.

First, you needed to hitch a ride home and say goodbye to your street clothes and hello to your uniform.

Tailing behind one of your squad mates got put on hold as the role model captain called out to you. Despite standing only a few steps away from the fast food empire, it was all the distance you needed to produce a manuscript of five hundred reasons as to why Baji wasn’t allowed at meetings.

He was a few steps too slow for his own demise.

“Sorry, but Mr. Baji's not allowed to go. I wonder if it's 'cos-”

“Go somewhere else,” he cut through.

Being the bigger person came with a time limit.

Coincidentally, that time limit just ended.

Verbal fire was never actually called off, only postponed.

“What, are ya sick of looking at my face today?”

“I'm not in the mood to play around. I'm telling you to go live somewhere else.”

“Huh?” Lost in translation, a blankness spread across your features. “Why would I do that?”

“Simple, because I told you to,” Baji said, bending words in an all but persuasive manner. “You don’t need any other reason.”

“No.”

Outright refusal.

Some took it better than others. Who they were would remain a mystery because the others in question would rather burn everything to the ground. Baji, despite being a role amongst models, didn't take it well.

“What part of that sounded optional to you?”

You kicked the toe of your shoe against the cement and looked up at the hellpath human.

When in doubt, tune a burning world out.

“The part where I said no.” You let out a phew of relief. “Now that we got that settled-”

“We won't have shit settled until you get away from that guy.”

With all of humanity leaving that prior disaster in the past, the present lies in wait for the next catastrophe. They didn't have to wait for long because, after a quick evaluation; it came to your attention that the radius around Baji transitioned into a flammable hazard zone. On its own, it wasn't a major threat and came with a simple remedy. Just throw a few dozen water parks over that has-been hazard and it'll be a danger to the public for generations to come. But just think how grateful the generations after that will be, so long as it didn't kick-start the death of mankind first.

“Oh. It’s about Mr. Sanzu again…” You pondered the ground for a moment. “I think ya need to get over it already,” despite the delivery, malice played no part—pure intentions offered advice to a friend.

No matter the intention, it comes down to perceptions. Because no one intended on dousing the flammable zone in gasoline, but these things happen, so perceive that they didn't. Better yet, perceive Baji as five notches above irritated and every dangerous comparison up until this point will be resolved.

Route unlocked: Emotions Minus Catastrophe.

—GOOD END.

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

“I’m talking to Mr. Baji.” You smiled. “But I think he’s feeling cranky today since Chifuyu ate all of his fries. I know ya would never say something like that with a clear head.”

“That's funny, because I am.”

Baji's typical grin remained absent.

That expression shouldn't be for you.

While the universe may not have been a natural born gambler, it knew to fully invest in what was about to transpire. The stars aligned to showcase the most unproductive conversation in all of human history. For nothing good comes from having firm beliefs, besides the free entertainment it provides for those with flimsy beliefs.

Transcending 'nothing good'; unbridled disaster comes from thinking genocide can be eradicated through explaining why it's bad. On the other hand, starting something is always easier than ending it. In this case, genocide can be achieved by explaining why it's bad even if it's bad.

And that's just no good.

You handed over a delicate smile as a letdown gift.

A doomsday smile.

“Hey Mr. Baji, whaddya think love is?”

“Love,” Baji answered, like it was the most obvious thing, but his confusion over the matter was visible. "What else would it be?"

“Then ya should get what you're telling me to do,” you spoke tenderly. “When ya love someone—like, really, really love someone, them not being there would be worse than dying, so you might as well just die if that’s the case.”

If Baji looked lost before, then he leveled up to become entirely absent.

Luckily, you leveled up to enlightenment.

“It's like running, and running, and running without knowing how to breathe,” you explained warmly. “So, how long do ya think people can live without air? For me it's a day. But what happens if I trip? Then I might run out of oxygen on the spot. But as long as I remember how to breathe again, it's okay. That's what being in love is, it's breathing while you're together and forgetting how when you're apart. So I'm serious, without him—”

I'd die, you said.

Reaching the grand finale, Baji forgot to clap but did well to stare.

As predicted by the: 'nothing good comes from' catalog, no good came from teaching what can't be taught;

Because you can't expect an alien who's familiar with long distance intergalactic love to suddenly understand why it should drop dead since it's still technically alone.

“Oh, you were being serious about all that…” Baji scratched his head. Something like bitterness tried to seep through fire defenses. “Well, get that shit outta your head ‘cos it's wrong.”

“Huh?” You cocked your head. “Ya think?”

“What, is that a surprise to you? Do you understand what just came outta your mouth?”

Fully aware of what came out of your mouth, you nodded.

“Uh-huh, I thought my explanation was way on point, but I guess it wasn't clear enough.” Dispirited by your tutoring failure, your shoulders hung in consequence. “Sorry for letting ya down Mr. Baji.”

If Baji scrunched his eyebrows any further, they’d be at risk of falling off. Thankfully, hyperboles are just exaggerations otherwise we’d be venturing into some troubling territory. Specifically, when faced with concepts that don’t align with our own flowchart of personal values, most will find that eyebrows can always scrunch further. And while he might’ve had tolerance equipped at the beginning of the day, we’re steadily approaching the death of afternoon, so we can presume that tolerance died fairly early on.

“No, I get it. I understand that everything you're saying's ass backwards.”

“Are ya saying it should be ass forwards?”

“I'm saying it shouldn't be so shot-out,” Baji snapped as his irritation peaked. “So lemme guess who fed you that wonderful line-”

“Wow, your way devoted today, huh Mr. Baji?” you asked, cutting his slander short. “Ya hate him that much?”

“Yeah, that's the idea,” Baji replied.

“How sad. Mr. Sanzu's the best human I've ever met.”

“Yeah? You sure we're talking about the same guy? Because what I'm seeing doesn't match up. Shit, at this point I'm convinced he doesn't even see you as a person.”

You looked at him in utter defeat.

“This entire time you've been trying to dump your feelings all over mine, so if anything…” A dim smile haunted your features. “I think it's Mr. Baji who doesn't see me as a person.”

“Don't be an idiot. If I didn’t, we wouldn't be standing here right now.” He paused to backtrack. “Look, I'm not saying any of this to be mean, alright?”

“Wow, ya totally fooled me Mr. Baji. But, since I love ya I’ll wipe this whole thing from my memory.” You continued at the speed of sound, “as long as we never talk about it again.”

“Yeah, that ain't gonna happen 'cos I need you to get it through your head—that guy doesn't care about you in the slightest, if he did, he wouldn't still be bringing you along to those sketchy ass jobs,” Baji disputed, as if he were chewing on nails.

"So, those are your beliefs? Hmm, I mean as long as it's somebody else's problem it becomes super easy to judge from the outside," your flippant demeanor smudged with a slight degree of malice.

The canines of a predator grit down in irritation; a sneak peek as to how this conflict would end.

"No one's judging anyone, but that's how it must seem when you're learning everything from some guy who shouldn't even be trusted to raise dirt."

“Hey, Mr. Baji.”

“What?”

“I’m happy. So stop tryna' change things—oh, and stop treating me like I don't understand anything. It's making me blush.” Finishing up with a coy smile, you were pushing to end it on a light note.

Baji preferred to carry on with a harsh note.

“I’ll be happy to stop once you move somewhere else.”

Watching the state of your captain;

You read without words.

Those stories were strange.

This story was one of the worst.

“Is this it?”

“Is it what?”

“'Off’,” you said, serious as ever. “This is what's been making ya seem 'off'. Right, Mr. Baji?”

“I hate to break it to you, but something like this wouldn’t get me bent out of shape.”

“Then what is?”

“I told you already, nothing,” he barked.

“But I think that’s a lie,” you offered a straight faced reply. “Lately, every time I’m with ya I get this real gross feeling. Like—something’s crawling under my skin. So, just tell the truth and stop being off.”

“Well, you're in luck 'cos 'off' don't exist,” Baji snapped. “And I gotta say that's a damn funny accusation you're throwing around, considering how much you lie on average.”

“I don't lie, Mr. Baji,” you shot back with an irrefutable delivery, yet your tone fell flat.

In a game of words, yours opted to play offense.

There wasn't a single crack or flaw in your execution; even your exterior was solid as diamond. The assertive nature of it almost seemed desperate.

It was a delicate balance.

It was a lack of footing.

It was fragile territory.

For the portrayal of diamond was nothing more than the shell of an egg; also known as radical denial.

“Alright, then you won't mind telling me how you broke your wrist. And don’t give me that ‘I wasn’t paying attention’ shit.”

You held it all together, only to have your composure snap right here.

Baji’s feet were planted further in the ground than yours ever could.

Dread arrived at the scene.

“I’m not lying.”

“Sure seems like it. I know there’s something not right about the entire thing. All I have to do is bring it up for you to get like that."

“I really hate all these conversations, so just-”

–stop.

Just stop.

Baji slashed through your request.

He wasn’t acting the way he’s supposed to.

“I'm your friend, ain’t I?” Baji’s question was sincere despite the brutality behind it.

Amber eyes squinted at your figure, as if urging for your compliance;

As if demanding a different version of you.

"Yeah, but…" you murmured.

But friends don't…

“Then stop feeding me bullshit excuses. If you can't do that, then it's only proving my point.”

Baji’s conviction emitted an eternal blaze.

Even before it engaged with yours, this was destined to result in a gruesome demise.

—a mutual demise.

Watch as two suns collide.

“I'll hate ya if ya don’t stop,” you mumbled, as the threads of your composure frayed.

Faced with such indistinct conviction, a grin flickered to tug at Baji’s lips.

“If it's that easy, then go right ahead,” he said, encouraging your threat with a provoking tone.

Baji was supposed to be a good person.

So why didn’t he stop yet?

He always stops.

Always.

Baji was supposed to be a good person.

Nothing was supposed to change.

Never.

“......”

“Whatever it was, wouldn't have happened if you weren't tagging along with that guy. You need to get it through your head, ‘cos eventually things might not play out the way you hoped. When that happens, don’t think for a second you mean anything to him.”

Baji was supposed to love you.

But this wasn't…

If he loved you, he would've stopped.

He didn't love you.

Which meant he hated you.

Which meant–

“You're a shit-head asshole Baji,” the thread split, as sharp words came out free and easy.

With eyes fixed on the captain, death's blade loomed over your shoulder. It was a mutual exchange. That was the type of environment this disheveled into. Both parties exerted an overwhelming pressure without sparing the faintest trace of concern for civilian life.

“Look at that,” Baji commended mockingly. “You finally figured out how to say my name.” A wolfish grin established permanent residency, if only out of limitless irritation.

“Uh-huh.” You nodded with enthusiasm. “It's shit-head asshole.”

Though it was dim, Baji was identical to the color black. In a city where stars couldn’t reach, he fit right in. Humans are only human. You shouldn’t expect them to shine.

You turned to reject the color you hated most.

Placing one foot in front of the other.

A formless world forgot its name.

In the vast emptiness;

Baji's words reached you.

But sound didn’t exist in this version of earth.

You missed Sanzu so deeply.

It was uncomfortable; not wearing skin.

On a quest to nowhere soon, you covered a hefty proximity. Consumed by playing out the prior dispute in your head on loop, all else disappeared.

Including your location.

It was irrelevant.

Betrayal bestowed by a person who should’ve loved you was an unfamiliar field. All you could do was find more and more fault in Baji’s actions.

Picking it apart.

Putting it back together.

There was no breakthrough in understanding.

Only raw emotion.

Unpleasant emotions.

Ripping your throat down to your stomach.

If not for the descent of sunlight, you might have continued on like that until time ceased to exist. Luckily, the sun had your back. Unluckily, you didn’t have the slightest clue where you were.

But Mr. 7 did.

Or at least an employee working there did.

Mr. 7 would never be caught dead in the land of mortals.

The chain of fate was a quad colored convenience store.

Conveniently placed in a convenient location, glowing signage acted as a beacon of hope. As if things couldn’t get anymore convenient, the woman manning the register was nice enough to let you use the store phone. Penniless pockets couldn’t afford a pay phone, so Mrs. Cashier spared every store in the surrounding area from the worst kind of customer.

Typing in the number to the joint cell phone, it wrung

And wrung…

And answered—in the form of: leave a message after the beep.

Meeting such a fate didn’t discourage you until about the tenth or so attempt.

Then it was dreadfully discouraging.

As the phone wrung for the ×-th time, you shoved your hand in your pocket. Confused by its contents, you pulled out what felt like a thick piece of paper, which was in fact a card, so technically still paper. It must've been in hibernation for some time now, because the last time you wore this jacket was—a date you didn’t know off the top of your head.

Long ago… before the era of roaches, you wore a jacket.

The end.

Created for this exact moment, the crumpled business card printed with kanji (whose meaning was still in question) accompanied a set of numbers. Your life line. Mrs. Loaded Lady may have overdone it with card quantity, but right about now she seemed like an angel sent to combat despair.

Typing in the numbers listed on the lucky business card, it wrung.

—barely.

“Ito residence,” greeted the voice of an elegant angel.

“Hey lady, it’s me,” replied the voice of an inelegant pedestrian.

“Me…? Oh, yes, of course, it seems that those cards served their purpose–”

It goes without saying, the name she addressed you by wasn’t yours.

“Uh-huh, they super served their purpose ‘cos I’m super lost right now.”

Or at least this one that undoubtedly went through the wash served its purpose.

The card of origin.

“I see, so transportation is in order? My hands are tied at the moment, but I can send someone who is just as capable.”

“You’re a real good person, y’know?” you said, almost touched to tears by her absolute good will.

“I’m glad to be of help, dear,” she replied pleasantly. “I’ll write down your location and send someone right away.”

Communicating the address from the convenient cashier to the upstanding citizen on the line, she ensured someone would be there soon. 'There', was apparently Shibuya, meaning you stayed within range of where you started.

With that, she called you by another name and hung up.

It was efficient, if nothing else.

Parting with your short time assistant, Mrs. Cashier continued her shift in peace. Passing through the automatic doors, you manned the sidewalk in wait.

A long, long, wait.

Patiently pacing, a familiar car entered your vision. Tinted windows and a build fitting of higher society, you waved gleefully as it pulled up beside you. The figure of a man occupied the driver's seat, presumably Madam Loaded’s butler, who beckoned you in with a wave. Opening the door and hopping into the back, you met the support of leather seats with a fwmp.

“Thanks for the lift, mister.”

You grinned, looking around the spacious vehicle. It couldn’t be further from Mr. Scumbag’s human death trap, and the scent of harsh cleansers only widened that gap; for scum never cleans.

“It's my pleasure. So where am I taking you?”

Locks sounded with a click.

A steady grip shifted the clutch.

The turn signal blinked in repetition.

Tires hummed over loose gravel and asphalt.

Steering away from the curb and onto the road, the makeshift taxi sped up.

Looking straight ahead, your gaze went stiff.

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

Slender hands coiled around your throat.

Cold hands severed oxygen from your lungs.

Someone was behind you.

Strangling you.

Their grip twisted around your neck.

Digging into skin.

& constricting.

—tighter tighter tighter tighter tighter tighter-

They won't stop and you can't breathe.

They—aren't real.

It's just a feeling.

—a really bad feeling.

Demons pretend to be human and wear their flesh.

Through the rearview mirror, a fine tongued politician held eye contact. Eye as in singular; a patch covered the other. Adorned in a suit and tie, his image impersonated the ranks of those who’ve never touched dirt, despite being covered in filth. Well-mannered lips of an upstanding citizen curved to welcome you.

Wide eyed and vacant, you smiled out of fear.

In the confines of your lap, violent fingers threaded to silence trembling hands;

Strangling one another.

“Miss?”

“—Shibuya Station, please.”

There was a disconnect.

This car existed in a separate reality.

The outside world decomposed into a blur of shapes and colors.

Survive.

The sole term that reached you.

It was one that always relied on physical strength.

This version relied on something else entirely;

Words.

To lie through your teeth.

To become someone else.

You're not you.

There was no room for error.

You had to be perfect.

You had to bear it.

You had to.

“I'm glad I finally had the opportunity to meet you. We must have just missed each other at the firework festival.”

You felt hot.

So uncomfortably hot.

Dampness enveloped your palms.

He knew.

He already knew.

“Ah, I've gone out of order already, my apologies. It's nice to meet you. My name is Ito Akiyoshi. Ito written with the characters this and wisteria. Akiyoshi written with the characters autumn and luck. You're acquainted with my wife and son. They–no. My wife said she ran into you while looking for me.”

This is that kid's dumb dad?

The guy who broke your nose.

The 'bad guy' you were fighting.

The scumbag you robbed thanks to the pretense of prostitution.

“It's nice to meet you,” you said, paying close attention to your pronunciation.

Everything was uncomfortable.

You weren't you.

“I heard a lot of good things about you,” you added.

“Likewise.” He glanced up at the rearview mirror. “So, do you live around here?”

“I do, but not for much longer. We're in the process of moving.”

“What a shame. Moving can be rather difficult for children your age, I hope it's not too far.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I wish it could’ve been closer. I mean, Osaka seems nice, but I’m gonna miss my friends.”

“I can imagine.”

It'll be okay.

You don't know him.

“Though, judging by the manner of your speech,” he said, without the slightest waver in tone, “I take it that this is not your first time moving.”

“—hah, you got me there.” You converted the shock into a smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I typically am.” He chuckled in a light-hearted demeanor.

His gaze was consistent.

Back and forth between the road and the mirror.

Consistent in watching you.

Observing you.

It’s fine.

You don’t know him.

“It’s a bit hard to tell from up here, but on your hand, is that a tattoo?” Akiyoshi asked.

“Yeah, it is.”

“It looks quite faded.”

“I’ve had it for a few years now, so I think that’s normal.”

Normal meaning unprofessional.

Normal if you don’t go deep enough.

Normal isn’t actually normal if you look at the time frame.

Normally, you wouldn’t ever be thankful for botched ink on your thumb.

It's okay.

It existed as proof.

You don't know him.

“I see. Your parents must be lenient, no?”

“No, they were really mad.”

"Mm, rightfully so. What is it they do for a living?"

“Ah, my parents…”

“Yes, how about your mother?”

“She works from home.”

“And your father?”

“His work makes him travel a lot.”

“I see, but what is it that they do exactly?”

“I wonder, do you need a job?”

“No, I'm quite alright.” He chuckled. "I'm just curious, nothing more.”

See, it’s okay.

Because, you don’t know him.

You don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't-

“Tell me,” he demanded pleasantly, “do you, by chance, have any siblings?”

His voice upheld the same formalities, without a shred of ill intent.

But you could feel the decay in his words.

Burrowing under your skin.

Decomposing the car's interior.

—while a clean world was rotting with miasma.

You held your breath.

“I have an older sister but she left for school awhile back. Fukuoka, I think,” you said, blurting out the first location that came to mind.

“Fukuoka,” he repeated. “Even from Osaka, that's quite the trip. How often is it that she visits?”

“It's rare.” You shook your head dejectedly. “The most recent time was last autumn. Sad, huh?”

He didn't offer a response.

Your heartbeat shattered atop his silence.

Bad ends are everywhere, one misstep is all it takes. Up until now you've pursued your fair share of those routes. Have you lost count yet? There's no shame in not keeping track of numbers among other things. The point that matters is the sheer abundance of them, although that being said;

There's only one true ending.

But that one's not intended for you.

After all, a bad ending had been sitting beside you this entire time; you should know since you brought it here.

—that feeling.

What an irresponsible parent, letting it get so carried away.

It hated that you could breathe.

It wanted you dead.

You shouldn't have exposed your neck.

The one up front must be thinking the same thing.

The stillness violated your senses.

It was hard to breathe.

“Very,” he finally replied. “I can see the resemblance.”

“Hm?” You tilted your head curiously. It was almost as if you weren't just contemplating the survival rating of jumping out of the car. “Do you know her?”

“Not quite, though I believe I may have seen her in passing.” He cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, I wish her well in her studies.”

“I'll pass her the message.”

He smiled in recognition.

“I must say I was surprised, my wife seemed adamant about getting you.”

“She's a good person.”

“That she is. Thanks to her, there is not a day that passes where I don’t feel the grace of luck,” the cheating scum boasted. “My only gripe is, that memory of hers could use some improvement. Wouldn’t you say–?”

The name he called you—it wasn't yours.

Which meant he got it from—his wife.

Hah…ha…haha…

She really was a good person.

“I think she's exactly how she's supposed to be, and if she heard you saying things like that, I bet it'd make her cry.”

“I see. Well, please forgive me, I meant no harm by it. Truthfully, she wasn't always like that. I believe it has something to do with the anxiety of recent times. With all those girls disappearing. Though I can’t help but to share her concern,” he said, as empathy lingered in his tone. "If my son were to go missing, I don't want to think about the sort of man I'd become. Yet—that fear is a reality for many, I'm afraid."

Not this.

Not with him.

Not something that feels this heavy.

Guilt became a fugitive that inhabited your stomach.

You borrowed a shit rumor from a certain worm.

“—I heard it’s a yokai who's adding new wives to his collection. What do you think?”

“A yokai.” He chuckled. “That's the first I've heard of it.” He tapped on the steering wheel with the pads of his forefinger. “We expect monsters to act like monsters in the same sense in which we expect humans to act like humans. In truth, that story of yours is the better reality.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “If I had to choose one, I'd rather be eaten by a yokai instead of getting stabbed by a friend.”

"I see. Escapism is rather prevalent in youth," he stated. "Well, adding an option that doesn't already exist can ease the harshness of reality. In this case, without a yokai, the guilt of this matter falls upon the friend. Though in the eyes of a child, it's easier to accept that it was a monster instead of their own kind."

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t expect to see a yokai out on the streets? What a letdown, I seriously believed in that rumor.”

“Believe what you like dear. Don’t let an old man sway your opinion.”

“What old man?”

“I can see why my wife likes you.”

That absolutely wasn't why, but that was a different matter.

“So, was your son busy too?”

“Yes, in a sense.”

"Oh.” You scrambled for a reply. “I guess that’s better than being bored."

"Yes, and no. We got into a bit of a disagreement earlier. Truth be told, that's why I'm here in the first place." He let out half of a laugh. "He's a difficult one, but it's unlikely that he would've come out of his room if I were still there."

"How sad."

“Yes, well, you know how boys are at that age. We butt heads more than I’d care to admit, but he will come around once he’s older.”

“Right. That's how it always works.” Quick to agree, you didn’t have the faintest idea what you were talking about.

“I hate to cut our conversation short, but our trip is already nearing its end. Who could have imagined you were this close.”

The car came to a gradual stop.

A blurred world became clear.

Shibuya Station glimmered with the white light of sanctuary.

The front seat scum turned to face you but the fabric covering his eye sucked you in. It wasn't every day you saw that kind of thing, plus it looked out of place on the clean face, suit and tie type—or on any type.

Best case scenario was that his wife snapped and dealt an eye ending blow.

Pain hurts worse when it’s delivered by a loved one.

Mid case scenario was that a prostitute lashed out on him for trying to skip his tab.

Those who excel at delivering pleasure must also excel delivering pain. Or at least that’s what you assumed. Like a warrior code but with some glitter thrown on top.

“Curious?” He pointed at the cloth, as you lagged to avert your eyes. “It's alright, most children are. Come visit us sometime and I'll be glad to share the story. It's quite funny, if I might add.”

“Okay, I’ll call if I’m ever back in the area.”

“Ah, that's right. And I had the nerve to complain about my wife's memory.” He laughed to himself, momentarily forgetting that adults aren’t funny. “Well then, please, don't hesitate to call if the need be,” he said delightfully. “Though I can’t promise we can be of any help if you're in Osaka.”

“Thanks, it was really nice meeting you.”

Opening the car door, you stepped out onto the street. Turning back, you smiled, waving your hand loosely in parting as he pulled away.

—not yet.

In a bustling city, floodlights imitated the sun in a showing of advertisements, while electronic billboards encapsulated the future. Buildings were built to tower above giants in a flashy display. The clashing sounds of commercials, cars, people and music made for a noisy soundtrack but it needed to be louder. The busiest pedestrian crossing held no shortage of people. From salarymen to teenagers, each had somewhere they needed to be. You needed to be anywhere else.

Blending into the swarm of bodies, it wasn't enough.

It felt like you were being watched.

—not yet.

Approaching an entrance to the station and wedged well within the masses, it wasn't enough.

It didn’t feel safe.

—not yet.

Passing through the turnstile and mixing into the structure, it wasn't enough.

You walked with perfect posture.

—not yet.

Entering the public restroom, the noise and chatter of the world ceased to exist.

Excess water occupied tile floors.

Stall doors hung wide open.

Fluorescent lighting beckoned your head to throb.

Using the wall for support, you sunk down into a crouch.

Sharply inhaling.

Sharply exhaling.

The long-term effects of inhaling miasma were scribbled in black.

Defacing humans with their least favorite shade—no.

How could there be favorites if there was only ever one?

This one.

Smudging over the lines, every page was black.

With your face propped up on buzzing hands.

Unstable breaths dispersed from your lips.

A chill wandered up your spine.

You stared at the floor.

You were alone.

Yet, no safer.

There was no relief, only this;

Agony tore through your psyche to inspire the worst.

You spilled over and exposed all the filth that couldn't be erased. To witness yourself turn inside out in a public place seemed like a corrupted god's take on entertainment. Tears welled yet refused to touch skin already drenched in arsenic. Black matter lashed down to splatter against each and every tile and crack. The bad parts were getting out.

You couldn't live like this.

You closed your eyes.

It was hard to think with so many gnats buzzing around inside your skull. As a last ditch effort, you crammed your brain full of static.

The gnats died miserably.

It was hard to think with so much noise shrieking around inside of your skull. As a last ditch effort, you devoured white noise and in return; it devoured you.

The white noise died miserably.

Sound burst into silence.

Time ticked sideways.

The faucet dripped.

Home.

You needed to go home.

You needed to get to Sanzu.

How?

The door creaked open

Heels clacked against tile.

Stepping into the inhospitable zone of a zigzag crisis was a dress suit harboring a middle-aged woman inside. It only took one step before the fumes got to her head, taking half a glance at you before she offered a curt bow.

I'm sorry, please excuse me, spilled from her lips.

She snatched the door handle fast enough to outrun the plague, but the precision of a predator outmatched the plague and captured her wrist. You looked up at the lifeline like a dog who lost its bite.

“A phone,�� it came out as less of a request, and rather some poorly strung together plea. “Do ya have one?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, digging through her purse as if she were being held at gunpoint. “Here.”

Trading off the small peace offering, it was sleeker than the clunky kin you were accustomed to. For an adult in a dress suit, her taste in phones was suitable for her kind, suitable meaning second-rate, and her kind meaning scum who should disappear. Nevertheless, you punched in the only number you could.

It wrung… once.

“Where are you?” Sanzu asked, without so much as waiting for any indication of who he was talking to.

“Shibuya Station,” you answered plainly.

“That’s a surprise. You're not in the middle of nowhere for a change.” Sanzu said, his words corrupted by static.

“...”

—say it.

“Stay by the Hachiko exit and don’t go anywhere.”

“...”

—say it.

“Answer me if you're there.”

—just say it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “it's just-”

“Is this your first time using a phone? If you want me to hear you, speak up.”

"Sorry but I…"

“I messed up again, real, real bad this time.” Wide eyed and high-strung, you tore your fingers through your hair. “I really, really, really–”

“You must have shit service, I can barely hear you. Just go wait at the Hachiko exit for now. Oh, and-”

The line beeped three times.

Then went silent.

The call dropped.

You stared at the screen for a few seconds.

Your end didn't have service.

……

Wait at the entrance.

That’s what he told you to do.

You looked up at the hostage.

“The Hachiko exit,” you repeated, offering the dress suit her phone back.

“Take a right from here and go straight,” she said, making a clean escape.

Relinquishing a world record crouch, you stood up and offered meager self-encouragement by rubbing any sign of this incident from your eyes. Trekking through sludge and filth, there was no sentiment as you departed from the graveyard entrails. Thanks to the dress suit's aid of direction, you emerged from the ever gleaming Hachiko exit.

You did a bad job today.

But waiting was something even you could do.

The night greeted you with pitch black skies. Judging by the harsh decline of foot traffic, it must’ve been getting late. Walking by blank face after face, you headed towards the Hachiko memorial statue.

There was a lingering sense of unrealness to everything. A divide existed between you and all the rest. Those loved by the universe, and those hated by it.

If it hated you today;

It might love you again tomorrow.

While you had no say in the matter, you'd sooner wring its neck out than ever accept this degree of punishment again.

Mr. Baji hated you today.

He'll hate you again tomorrow.

When Sanzu hears what you did, he might hate you today too–no.

He's the only one who can never hate you.

The laws of the universe said so.

…….

You did a bad job today.

You never wanted to be away from Sanzu again.

You never wanted to be alone again.

You never wanted to be alone.

Bad things always happen when you're alone.

The massive crowds weren’t nearly as massive, even the occupancy at the meet-up memorial dwindled. Replicating something akin to sitting, you took to a slanted bench that detested the homeless. You looked up at the most loyal dog in Japan; Hachiko. It might be dead, but the bronze statue portrayed the living version. If it waited nine years for its owner to return, then how could that be considered loyalty? If it were that loyal, it shouldn’t have let them leave in the first place.

It shouldn’t have lived after.

Something that tasteless wasn’t loyalty.

It was a pitiful display of betrayal.

……

Maybe you should’ve been born a dog. Humans have too loose of leashes.

Despite not receiving your seal of approval, Hachiko never left you alone. It would’ve been concerning if he somehow did, or maybe impressive is the right word. You could never agree with the faux version of loyalty he stood for, but in an odd way, you appreciated the company.

Because you weren’t technically alone.

You weren’t alone, so you tried to rearrange shattered glass.

You weren’t Sanzu; you were only you. So, what exactly were you trying to solve?

You shoved your hands into the abyss of glass.

A solution never came.

October existed every year to harbor the weight of watching oneself die. Stray leaves dressed the cobblestone at your feet while sectioned off trees remained within the confines of grass and cement. Today they were feeling orange, tomorrow they might feel red; the colors of humans and plants weren’t the same.

Yet no plant or human could ever compare to that shade of cleansing white.

Gifted with the stealth of every cat in Tokyo, Sanzu stayed under the radar until he spawned in front of you. Of blonde hair and gentle features, he was every single star that a sleepless city never got to see. Your vision blurred with a fondness that could snuff out the sun, but blue eyes simply gazed. If you knew anything, it was the language they spoke. No–the picture they painted.

It was serene as rain.

Typhoons stuck to summer.

For now, light showers whispered through the night.

“Let’s go.” Not seeming particularly chatty, Sanzu extended his hand out towards yours.

Reaching out in one frame you clung to his arm in the next, spewing an incoherent mess of what vaguely resembled, I don't want you to hate me, into his sleeve.

“Hm? What made you think that? It’s not like you went off and got lost again, so you have nothing to worry about,” Sanzu retorted.

“That's not it.” You looked up and bit the bullet. “I got in the car with that man.”

“Then don't get into the car with people you don't know. I don't know what else you want me to tell you.” With no intention of taking your words at face value, he pulled his arm back. “C’mon.”

Thanks to the route chosen by a certified moron, the aftermath needed to be handled by someone who was capable. Shaking your head with cruciality, a pained expression ate away at the short-term relief.

“No, the one that broke my nose.”

Exhibiting the composure that didn’t come standard with your model, Sanzu looked at you with a deep sense of suspicion in his eyes. Briefly, he weighed out the accuracy of your claims.

“Make it easy and tell me what actually happened,” Sanzu said, with his scale tipping to the 'don't believe a word that she says’ side.

“I'm serious, he drove me here,” you said, putting a desperate strain on the delivery.

It’s not often that Sanzu looks so entirely blank, but in seconds flat a vague grasp wiped it clean. Working with a fresh canvas, his eyebrows scrunched in sheer bewilderment.

Summer came early and so did the typhoons.

“I didn't think I'd need to tell you something so obvious, but that was careless of me so listen to what I'm about to say—ready?” Sanzu asked, solely to paint on the condescending nature of it all. “Don't get into the car with people you've mugged.” Amidst his backlash, Sanzu spared minimal room to effectively get his point across, and simultaneously deflect the threat of nosy ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn't realize until he was already driving.”

“So it just didn't occur to you to check whose car you were getting into? No, on second thought; 'already driving' seems like the perfect time to check.”

“I'm sorry,” came out pitifully but it was the best you could give.

Despite the expected bout of snide remarks, Sanzu dialed back and took a breath for the sake of composure. Recalibrated in presence, he continued with a clear head.

“Whose car were you supposed to be getting into?”

“That one. The rich lady said it's no good to wander around at night, so I called the number on the card.” You said, pulling the sad thing from your pocket. “She's a good person, but she's married to a bad man.”

With eyes fixed on the card, you seared each character into your psyche while offering Sanzu the briefest summary you could.

“Look at me,” Sanzu demanded, to which you obliged. “I don’t care how nice they were to you, if you ever see them again don’t talk to them, and stay out of sight. Understand?”

“I do.”

“Good.” He snatched the card from your hand. “Is this what you were shoving behind the drawer?”

Biting your lip plaintively, you nodded.

When Mrs. Loaded saddled you with all those cards, you were on the fence about throwing them out since space is less than limited. Instead, guilt swerved you to an alternate route. As it stands, if one were to remove the dresser drawer, they might conclude that drug paraphernalia was stashed in the interior. But reality is often disappointing—especially if you’re a cop. In the end, it was just a convoluted way of preserving the cards. Some people just happen to conceal drugs in the same manner. It’s not clear who’s copying who.

Not that their location mattered in the end.

Soft features expressed a neutral appearance, as Sanzu sustained his decisive as always nature.

“All of them need to get thrown out.”

“Okay, but—is that gonna be enough?” Your words spiraled as you senselessly stuffed your hands back into mounds of glass. “Like, I really, really, really messed up this time. He’s gonna figure out I was lying, right? And then-”

“As long as you listen to me, everything'll be fine, yeah?”

Effortlessly, Sanzu vanquished a shattered earth.

In the mess of the moment, familiar words were an entity you nearly forgot. There was a peace of mind that accompanied them, more so than usual.

Acting alone was a nightmare you’d like to bury.

The burden didn’t have to be yours.

“Right as always, Mr. Sanzu,” you said, as a vague smile touched your features.

Even if you fucked it up to shit—nothing would change.

After all;

Sanzu was always right.

So long as he made the decisions;

You could remain happy, and everything would be okay.

“So what happened, you were supposed to be with Baji weren’t you?”

“Yeah I was, but we got into a real bad fight. I wasn’t thinking, so I walked away, but… I don't want him to hate me.”

The memory possessed the potency of concentrated poison.

Baji was bull-headed at times, even a shit-head asshole. But that was just today’s version of him. When you broke your wrist, he always barged in to visit. Baji wasn’t well off either, but he always paid for your meals. Plus, if shit really hit the fan, he was someone you could rely on.

But above all;

Baji was a good person.

“He doesn't, right?” you asked. “He doesn’t hate me?”

At the time, you detached from a majority of the interaction. Yet, right at the end, you split into pieces that would’ve bitten down if the survival rating wasn’t zero. Baji’s existence was rewritten as someone else. Was that you, or were you rewritten too?

To harbor a feeling that intense seemed wrong.

That state of mind manifested as a paradox.

It overflowed until it was empty.

That wasn't you.

It wasn’t either one of you.

Seemingly out of reach, sleepy eyes studied the ground. Taking your worries out on your nails, anything besides an immediate reply felt unbearable. The people you loved could never hate you—that route would diminish you to nothing.

Shooting a stalled gaze back into your soul, Sanzu’s tone was ruthless and to the point.

“Baji betrayed Toman.”

“...”

Your perception lagged.

No, not lagged.

It was trying to figure out what Sanzu actually said because-

“Do you understand? He changed sides.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really wanna play right now.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

"Hey…" You pouted. "That's too harsh, even for you Mr. Sanzu."

“Is it? I don’t remember doing anything wrong.”

Sanzu had a talent for sharpening words into weapons, but this wasn't that. Otherwise, why would they sound so dull? For the sake of not drifting too far out of character, and not becoming someone else.

Sanzu had a talent for sharpening words into weapons, but it's not like he had a talent for making blankets out of them. Because people just do what they know how and straying from that path doesn't always work as intended. There's comfort in sticking to your own script, trying to read someone's else's makes it come out all wrong. The tactician can attempt the role of the nurturer but that's not what they signed up for. It's mean to make those demands. So, adjust the standard to something more realistic, anyone can be anything, even if it's far from the source material.

The source.

Sanzu was at a loss.

He wasn't built for soothing.

He was just doing what he knew how.

He wasn’t a nurturer, but his pores were full of seeds.

If he wasn’t a nurturer, then the adjusted term said differently.

Accepting any burden was something he could do, but handing over emotions just wasn't plausible. Not here at least. Not with this.

Sanzu was a dull blade, and that's what made this scary.

It was cruel. Something like pity dripped from a knife that couldn't cut.

A black hole formed in your chest.

A dejected onslaught engulfed your face.

“Are ya that mad at me?” you asked, desperately clawing for a different motive.

Crossing his arms in resignation, Sanzu opted to not answer with a reply.

Sanzu is always right. But…

Baji was a good person.

Baji is a good person.

Baji is.

—a good person.

If not, then that made him…

—a bad person.

Even if Sanzu forfeited his words, no–even if he didn’t know how to use them; he didn't need to. It needed to be established because it was real, it wouldn't go away, it couldn't be ignored.

He laid it all out.

Sanzu spoke without words.

His gaze was iron, and you were being crushed.

Why couldn’t it have been paper?

"Oh."

Indistinct voices passed by in crowds.

Pale eyes would always be a language you’d never read.

Love would always be a condition that you just couldn’t reach.

October would always echo the cycle of death and decay.

A vacant smile brushed by your lips.

“So he really did—hate me.”

—

It hurts.

#s:loyal as a dog #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #tokyo revengers #akashi haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x you #sanzu x you #haruchiyo sanzu x y/n #sanzu x y/n

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quokkacore · 4 years ago

Text

can you dig it? (m) [kim doyoung & kim jungwoo]

summary: post concert highs can be a real bummer, and tonight, after a particularly intense performance, your boyfriends help you come down.

pairing: kim doyoung x kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre: poly!au, 70s!au, band!au, smut, fluff

warnings: drug usage (weed specifically), mentions of other substances (lsd and cocaine), shotgunning, established poly relationship, soft dom jungwoo, mentioned switch jungwoo, hard dom doyoung, sub reader, high sex, sex on a water bed!!, unprotected sex, spit kink, they're all so sweaty help, mxm, degradation kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor possessiveness

song recs: don’t stop - fleetwood mac // unlock it (feat. kim petras & jay park) - charli xcx // love her madly - the doors // ziggy stardust - david bowie // rhiannon - fleetwood mac // eclipse - kim lip (loona) // flick of the wrist - queen

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this is for my best friend, who i love with all my heart,bc last month we were talking abt the dowoo photoshoot and she said smth about high sex with dowoo. happy birthday queen <3 thank u for listening to me complain abt writing all the time :’)

masterlist

Friday, July 22rd, 1977

The concert hall smelled like cocaine and sweat, you noted to yourself as the three of you joined hands to bow. Cheers from the crowd bounced off of the walls as you bid them your final goodbye, wishing them a good night and telling them to drive safe. Still, their chanting persisted. "Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel!"

You wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to be a young god.

The curtain lowered, and the three of you were ushered offstage, to take some pictures and then head back to the hotel, to try and get some rest before you were off to Philadelphia, some five or so hours from where you were now: Boston.

Truthfully, everything passed in a blur. It was almost always like this after these concerts. The thrill and euphoria of performing made it difficult to focus on things. That might have also been because Jungwoo had passed you a joint before the concert. You couldn't be completely sure.

Your tambourine and guitar seemingly disappeared, but you knew it would show up tomorrow for soundcheck when you got to the Philadelphia venue, right along with Jungwoo's bass guitar and Doyoung's drum kit.

What you did know was that here, in the car back to the hotel that your manager was driving, lecturing you and Jungwoo about the importance of being sober when talking to reporters, Doyoung had a hand on your thigh, and that was all you could focus on.

Doyoung was high too. You knew this because ten minutes before you were needed on stage he pulled you forward by the hips and told you to take a few hits from the hand rolled joint and blow the smoke into his mouth. Of course, he wasn't as high as you and Jungwoo were, and he knew how to hide it better. But if you were to get close enough you'd notice the redness rimming his eyes, the dilation of his pupils.

The three of you were something, that was for sure. You had been, probably ever since Jungwoo joined the band, some eight years ago, in the fall of '69. You only really defined what you were once you got your first big hit thanks to some disc jockey in LA playing a song you had written, Calabasas, on the radio back in '73.

The song had blown up, and suddenly the three of you were whisked into a whirlwind of celebrities, drugs, paparazzi and producers who thought the three of you were born yesterday. Yes, you were college kids that ran on booze and weed, but you weren’t complete morons. That was when the three of you sat down to properly discuss boundaries, what slid and what didn’t.

You and your boys decided that night that weren’t down with the idea of everyone knowing. Too many prying eyes. The public didn’t really know, because the press would have a damn field day.

Other than that, it was a pretty open secret. In the industry, who was going around with who didn’t really matter—a lot of them were too off their face to even care. You realized that a few years back when David Bowie walked in on you watching Jungwoo and Doyoung get it on in a bathroom at some afterparty in New York City, and closed the door muttering something about how strong the edibles were.

So, what your manager said fell on deaf ears. Too much weed, too much adrenaline, too much energy for someone who needed to head back onto the road in a few hours.

When you finally got back to the hotel, Jungwoo grabbed your hand in the elevator on the way up to your rooms, which were right next to each other. "You said that your bed was really big… can we come up?"

You nodded, leaning against his arm. Doyoung hummed affectionately at the sight, noting how tired you both were.

"You two are about five seconds from passing out," Doyoung mumbled, and you waved your hand in denial.

"Are not," you protested like a child.

"Y/N, don't be a chump. I'm pretty sure if Woo weren't next to you, you'd have fallen over."

You didn't have the energy to counter, and as the elevator slid open, you were the first one to march out, ready to just take a cold shower and die for the next few hours.

Realistically, you knew that wasn't what would happen. What would happen was that you would shower, get into bed and then toss and turn for another hour or so. Only then would the adrenaline truly wear off. The weed didn't help, making you feel sleepy.

You unlocked the door, and Doyoung and Jungwoo gawked at the sight—and size—of your bed. It could probably fit all three of you easily.

Since only one room would spark rumors, the manager usually booked two: one for Doyoung and Jungwoo and one for you. Your room always went unused. Usually, you would have to push Doyoung's and Jungwoo's beds together to make enough room, leaving an awkward and uncomfortable dip for the person in the middle. Whoever got the middle was handed the terrible double edged sword: cuddles galore, but a sore back in the morning.

Immediately Jungwoo jumped onto the bed, gasping and immediately laughed gleefully as the bed sloshed underneath him.

"A water bed!?" He exclaimed, splaying out his limbs. "Oh, far out. You really lucked out, dollface."

He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle, eyes fluttering shut. You followed, sitting at the side as you peeled off your white leather go-go boots. Throwing yourself down next to him, you sighed at the sensation of waves beneath you, and nodded. "Oh, this is ace," You murmured, "Feels great."

Peeling one eye open as Jungwoo wrapped his arm around you, your gaze landed on Doyoung, who was still leaning against the wall. You beckoned him over with a hand. "C'mere, princey."

He made sure that the air conditioner was working before sitting down on the other side of Jungwoo, for which you were grateful. The still drying sweat on the back of your neck and on your chest started to cool instantly. You and Jungwoo giggled as Doyoung’s weight sent waves rippling beneath you.

"So, are you guys gonna sleep or what?" Doyoung asked, kicking his shoes off as well and peeling off his denim jacket. His eyes were still wide open and he didn't look tired at all. "I'm probably staying up a little later, I have some ideas for some lyrics I want to get down—"

"I would love to sleep. But I can't," Jungwoo declared before glancing knowingly at the both of you, "and neither can either of you."

You hummed in agreement. "Hmm, you're not wrong. Too much energy left."

You turned to bury your face into his chest. His forest green short-sleeved button up was only buttoned up halfway, easily revealing his collarbones. He smelled like pot, sweat, and designer cologne. His chest rumbled as he continued to speak.

"What about you, bunny boy? You can't tell me you don't still feel it."

"The weed or the concert jitters?" Doyoung's voice was raspy, cautious. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. Once you and Jungwoo ganged up on him, it wouldn't take long to wear him down.

"Both," You and Jungwoo said in unison. You laughed at the sound. Doyoung chuckled as well, and you cracked your eyes open, despite how cozy you felt with Jungwoo stroking the skin of your nape.

"Well, the jitters are still there. That's why I'm staying up. As for the weed… well, yeah. I still feel it."

Jungwoo sighed. "How's the weed hitting you, though?"

"Honestly?" Doyoung's eyes met yours, and you felt something simmer in your chest. He huffed, deciding to take a bite of the apple, and leaned towards the both of you.

"The weed, plus watching you two perform… Safe to say I'm pretty fuckin' horny right now."

You bit your lip, giving him a sleepy grin. "Oh, Woo, we turned him on." The teasing tone wasn't missed despite the sleepiness in your tone.

"And what about it?" Doyoung asked, leaning back on his hands. "You can't say that watching Jungwoo do the thing doesn't get you going."

"I have a thing?"

"We all have a thing, Woo. Princey's over there is at the end of Mr. Jones' Motorcycle. You know, when he finishes the solo? He always throws his head back, because there's sweat and hair in his eyes. You can see his neck and shit..."

Jungwoo blinked. "Shit, that is his thing… What's mine?"

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung. "His is the thing where he gets so into it that he throws his head back and plays, and still manages to get every bass note right, right?"

Doyoung nodded with a satisfied hum. "Gets you going, right?"

You brought a hand up to Jungwoo's chest, slowly sliding it down his stomach. Your voice lowered to a raspy murmur, and Jungwoo's hand tightened around your waist. "Damn right it does."

"And plus, you both have told me that watching me put together the drum kit is hot."

"'Cause it is!" Again you laughed as Jungwoo said the same thing you did.

"Jungwoo." Doyoung's voice sounded thicker. "You can't tell me that Y/N isn't an absolute vixen on stage."

"You're right," The younger man answered, voice gruff. His hand slid down, gripping your butt and giving it a light squeeze, before directing his words at you. "Oh! Y/N, your thing is when—you know how every time you play the transition from Calabasas to Saturn’s Rings you sway your hips and flip your hair back and forth? Sometimes you’ll look at me or at Doyoung while you do, and you looked at me tonight. You're a little tease up there, dollface."

Your breath hitched at their words. “Oh, yeah?” You goaded, cuddling further into Jungwoo’s chest. You let a coy smile grace your face as your eyes fluttered shut. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Don’t be a brat,” Doyoung growled.

“No, Doie,” Jungwoo hummed. He suddenly sounded a lot more awake. “...What would you have her do about it?”

Your eyes fluttered open, swallowing despite the sudden dryness in your throat. Doyoung's pupils were still blown wide, but you were pretty sure it wasn't because of the weed. He licked his lips. "Princess, get on your knees."

Jungwoo prompted you up, pulling you up to stand at the side of the bed. Doyoung circled around the bed, before standing next to Jungwoo. Your gaze fluttered between your two boyfriends, one looking stern, the other looking like he was having the time of his life.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to kneel on the plush carpet, fingers gripping the silver fabric of your dress' skirt to hike it up, so that you wouldn't kneel on it. Your hands itched to reach for them but you knew you needed to ask for permission. "Can I touch you?"

Doyoung smiled, reaching for his belt. "There's our good girl," He said. Your mouth was already watering embarrassingly as you helped him undo his belt, pulling him out of his boxers. He was already half hard, and as you lifted your hand to spit in it, someone grabbed you gently by the rest. Jungwoo leaned over, turning your hand to reveal your palm to him. His eyes seemed to burn into yours as he let his spit fall into the palm of your hand. You felt your legs close, thighs trying to rub together at the sight.

"Go on," Jungwoo murmured, using a hand on your jaw to move your head. Your eyes fell on Doyoung's cock again, slowly getting harder and harder. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly as you met his smoldering gaze. You stroked him until he was rock hard in your grip, and his breathing turned heavy. Again, you swallowed, and Doyoung noticed this time.

“What is it, princess? You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” You whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled breathily, head tipping back as you ran your thumb over the slit. His eyes met Jungwoo’s, who was palming himself through his pants.

“What do you think, baby?” He asked him.

“Don’t be mean, Doyoung,” Jungwoo said softly. “Look at her, she’s desperate. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whined, nodding. The pair chuckled. Jungwoo grinned at the state you were already in. “Go ahead, dollface. Give it a kiss.”

Before Doyoung could say anything else, you took his dick into your mouth, and let out a soft moan at how heavy he felt, hot and pulsing. He let out a guttural groan of your name, a hand burying itself in your hair. His other hand gripped Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling him forward to meet in a tongue-filled kiss.

Slowly, Doyoung’s hips started rocking back and forth, grinding into your mouth. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit, as well as his balls. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to relax so as to not gag on his length. But when he sped up, it became too much to avoid.

A tap on your shoulder, and Doyoung let you off of his cock. You turned your head to look up at a very flushed Jungwoo, who had pulled his dick out of his pants as well. The words, “Me too?” tumbled out of his swollen lips. And with that gentle, breathy tone, who were you to disobey?

You wrapped your lips around Jungwoo, who hissed at the sudden heat of your mouth. From there, something primal inside of you took control, wanting nothing more than to please—you took turns sucking them off and stroking them, the muffled sounds of their moaning spurring you on.

It was always like this—during sex, Doyoung was the meaner one, manhandling you and throwing degrading words in your face that made your stomach curl in sick pleasure. He was the one who could put you in your place when you became too bratty to handle. Jungwoo was gentler, but he was all too content to watch Doyoung toss you around. He would always swoop in after Doyoung took you apart, and piece you back together. He’d tell you how good you were, how good you made the both of them feel, and while he definitely didn’t treat you like fragile porcelain, he definitely didn’t leave as many bruises as Doyoung did.

And then, when they were both done, they’d shower you in kisses, and whisper in your ear how grateful they were to love you, and say some philosophical thing about eternal love and the cosmos that you’d always be too fucked out to comprehend, but that made your heart do a backflip regardless.

“Shit,” Jungwoo groaned, pulling away from Doyoung’s lips. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.”

You pulled off of Doyoung to look up at Jungwoo. “In my—in my mouth, please, Woo.”

He nodded, licking his lips as his hands fisted themselves in your hair, gripping but not pulling as he allowed you to touch him the way you wanted. His hands gathered the loose strands into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide your mouth up and down his hot cock. His hips bucked into your willing mouth, the sound of his hissing and his moaning getting louder and louder, until…

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N… Y/N!" He groaned, as he came into your mouth. His head tipped back, which gave Doyoung access to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin. This sight was worth the bitter taste that coated your tongue: one of your lovers in ecstasy while the other anchored him to the ground.

He left his dick in your mouth for a moment, before pulling out with a shaky breath. Doyoung pulled away, letting him breathe. As Jungwoo caught his breath, Doyoung pulled you up, and he sat on the bed, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap.

You turned your head to face Jungwoo, who smiled at you, coming closer to the both of you. One of his hands patted the top of your head. "That was wicked," He said.

Doyoung smiled softly, and gripped your chin to get you to face him. His sweet grin didn't disappear as his grip forced your mouth open. He groaned at the sight of your tongue coated in Jungwoo's semen.

"Gorgeous," He mumbled, eyes trained on your lips as it began to spill out.

"Kiss her," Jungwoo told him, "You know you want to."

So he did, his tongue almost immediately slipping past your lips to get a taste of Jungwoo for himself, swallowing it down greedily. Your hands came up to unbutton his black dress shirt, and his hands pushed up the skirt of your dress to get you to rock your hips against his. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of only your soaked panties separating him and you, before pushing the shirt off of him.

He moved to lie you down on the bed. As he pulled away from you, you caught his tongue slipping out to lick at a dribble of Jungwoo's cum on his lips. To make matters even worse, the bed was rolling beneath you, making your head spin.

Jungwoo pulled his shirt off before he sat down behind you. Meanwhile, Doyoung moved down your body, parting your legs. He prompted you to sit up, resting your back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your earlobe as Doyoung peeled your underwear off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your drooling pussy.

"You're absolutely drenched, princess. And all from sucking our cocks, huh?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Jungwoo's lips began kissing along your jaw. When you didn't say anything, Jungwoo pinched your sides gently. "Use your words, doll," He whispered. From behind you, his eyes met Doyoung's. "You're gonna keep being our good little girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Jungwoo." Your hand lifted itself to press against his cheek, a silent plea for more kisses. He smiled against your skin.

"Atta girl," He praised, "On your best behavior for us tonight, huh?"

"The little slut's just being good because she wants to get fucked, Woo. Don't get it twisted."

"Please, Doie," You pleaded at the mention of being fucked, "Need it."

The older man chuckled lowly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit.

"Told you."

His tongue pressed itself against your hole, and you immediately cried out. You would have immediately started grinding against Doyoung's face if it weren't for Jungwoo's hands on your hips, holding you down and keeping it still.

"I don't think you wanna do that," He murmured. His hands travelled underneath your skirt, gripping the silvery blue gossamer as he tried to lift it up. You did your best to keep your squirming at a minimum as you tried to help him get you out of it. Finally, the bell sleeves were pulled off, and you were left naked as the day you were born.

Jungwoo’s hands moved to your breasts, playing with them as he watched you whimper at the sensation of Doyoung’s mouth working at your folds. When he slipped his tongue inside, you keened, head falling against Jungwoo’s shoulder.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He whispered.

Your chest heaved, squirming up and down as he began to tug and pinch your nipples, calloused fingertips making you cry out.

Doyoung’s free hand gripped your thigh, and his fingers on the other hand slipped inside when he pulled his tongue out. Immediately, he plunged in two fingers, curling his fingers as he attempted to search for that one special spot.

"Ngh, Doie, faster, pleasepleaseplease." Your legs were trembling slightly now.

"So fucking slutty," Doyoung mumbled, chuckling wickedly, "And all I had to do was stick my fingers inside."

He complied with no protest, and the sensation of Doyoung stroking your walls and Jungwoo continuously pawing at your breasts caused a string of moans to come pouring out of your mouth. Jungwoo had been sucking a bruise into your clavicle, but leaned up to press his lips against yours.

"Don't want anyone hearing what's meant for Doie and I," He said, lips brushing yours.

The idea made you even needier, the double entendre making your head spin. Jungwoo didn't want anyone to hear you because if they did, rumors would spread. And on top of that? He didn't want anyone to hear. You were theirs. They were yours. This was a sacred ritual between bodies meant to be witnessed by only the three of you.

Your head felt like you were floating, even though your limbs felt like they were sinking into the watery mattress. A coil began to tighten in your stomach, and your soft whines, muffled by Jungwoo's plush lips, increased in pitch.

They both knew what this meant, because a second later, Doyoung removed his fingers from your core, and Jungwoo pulled away, his hands moving from your breasts to rest on Doyoung's atop your hips. You were left reeling and breathing heavily, that familiar sensation floating away.

When you looked down at Doyoung, you swallowed at the sight of his lips, chin and fingers, all glistening with your wetness.

He lifted himself up off the mattress, and proceeded to sandwich your chest in between his own chest and Jungwoo’s back. He gripped his dick, rubbing it against your folds, which were now even more soaked than before.

"Tell me how much you want it, princess." He pressed his forehead against yours, hissing when the tip caught your clit. You let out a desperate whine, clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Do—Doyoung, please fuck me," You begged, reeling at the sensation. He was so close, all he had to do was slide in. But he refused.

"Not good enough," He insisted.

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo said, but he seemed to be more amused by your desperation than anything.

"No, I wanna hear how much she needs us."

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather your words. Jungwoo's hands stroked your sides, trying to calm you down. "You doing alright, doll? You wanna take a breather?"

"We can always stop." Doyoung's voice had turned stable, secure, safe. He started pulling away, until you grabbed him by the forearm and shook your head. You opened your eyes, seeing concern in his eyes

“No,” You mumbled, “Jus’ want some water. Think there’s some in the minibar. ‘M really hot.”

Doyoung nodded, getting up and striding over to the small refrigerator on the other side of the room. He pulled out a water bottle, and popped open the cap before passing it to you. Jungwoo had taken to fanning your face lightly with his hand. You took several long swigs of water, before setting it on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” You promised. “Can we please keep going? I can take it.”

Doyoung pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod.

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo murmured, “Be careful.”

“I know, baby." He lowered his eyes to study your face. "I won’t go that hard on you, Y/N.”

You nodded, even though deep down you wanted to protest. You knew that this was probably the best route to take. You could already feel the high—from the weed and the concert—wearing off. You knew that if Doyoung were too rough you’d probably crash on the way down instead of float.

So, Jungwoo brushed some stray hair out of your sweaty face, and Doyoung grabbed your legs gently, wrapping them around his hips. Slowly, Doyoung eased in, and you sighed in satisfaction of finally being filled. He bit into your shoulder, taking deep heaving breaths as he let you get used to the sensation. Jungwoo took turns pressing kisses to the top of your head and the top of Doyoung’s head.

“I love you both so much,” He whispered, “I’m so grateful the universe brought us together.”

Doyoung looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My baby,” He murmured against Jungwoo’s lips. He then turned to you and did the same, “My princess.”

You smiled at their words, but the need in your core was becoming unbearable. "Doie, Woo, I love you both so much," You murmured, "But Doyoung, if you don't move I'll pin you down and do it myself."

"And you were doing so well," Doyoung groaned with a laugh, before beginning to thrust his hips. It was a slow, torturous glide, and the way it caused the bed to rock left you dizzy in the best possible way. Doyoung was panting into your ear like some sort of beast, and you were whining softly with every cant of his hips.

"You must feel so good right now, huh, doll?"

"Jung—woo," You moaned, clawing at his bicep.

"I know, dolly, I know." He sounded sympathetic enough, but the way he was grinding his dick against your ass suggested otherwise. "Bunny boy is just so good with those hips of his, hm?"

"H-he is!" You cried, "Feel so full, ah, Doyoung!"

Doyoung's eyes met yours, and his hips picked up their pace, until your eyes rolled up into your head. Your head thrashed side to side, leaning against Jungwoo's shoulder. His mouth lowered once again to kiss at your neck, and your hand wrapped itself against his nape, while the other gripped Doyoung's shoulders.

Jungwoo's hands slithered down to where you and Doyoung were connected, and started rubbing at your clit. You shrieked, chest arching. Doyoung hissed. "Shit, do that again," He bit out, "Fuck, princess you just got so tight."

"D-Doie, harder!"

Doyoung looked up at Jungwoo, the two having an unspoken conversation. A second later, Jungwoo gave a cautious nod. Doyoung smiled, before he adjusted his legs. Then…

Then. He began pounding into you at a breakneck pace. Your legs tightened around him, wanting him even deeper than before.

"You love this, don't you? Our pretty little slut." His voice was tighter now, panting with exertion. You nodded.

"Yes, yes! I'm your slut!"

Doyoung grinned, before locking lips with you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, before letting you do the same to him. You could tell he was starting to feel something—he always kissed you or Jungwoo as a way of telling you he wouldn't last much longer.

Truthfully, you could feel it coming too—your body felt like it was on fire, and your hips couldn't stop squirming. Whether it was towards Jungwoo's calloused fingers on your clit, Doyoung's cock, or away from both, you couldn't tell. Your moans were getting shriller too.

You clenched down on his length again, and he grit his teeth, grunting as his pace turned sloppy.

"C-c'mon, princey," You pleaded, "Give it to me, give it…"

"Shit, yes…" His head lolled onto your shoulder. "Gonna stuff you so full, princess, you'll be dripping—"

"Please! Oh, please—"

The two of you fell apart almost at the same time, your orgasm triggering Doyoung's a second later. Your mouth fell open, legs trembling and heart pounding as waves crashed over and under you.

When you came down, Doyoung rolled off of you, turning onto his side to watch you and Jungwoo. Jungwoo, who ceased the movements of his hands and slowly laid you down. Your head landed against the pillows, and you let your eyes shut as you caught your breath.

"Can I take care of you one last time, doll?" You heard Jungwoo say. Your eyes opened blearily, and you reached a hand out towards him, legs parting of their own accord.

Both of your lovers groaned at the sight of your pussy, Doyoung's cum brimming from your folds.

"Absolute perfection," Jungwoo murmured, crawling between your legs. He gripped his dick with one hand, the other swiping through your folds, and you immediately whined at the sensitivity there, teetering the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Please," You whimpered, "Woo, I want it."

"You're insatiable." He sounded so affectionate, so in love. You watched as his eyes studied his index and middle fingers, covered in a mix of Doyoung's cum and yours, before dipping them into his mouth to lick them clean. You sighed, a dopey smile gracing your features. He lowered himself down to brush noses with you, dark eyes blown wide, wide awake despite the dark circles underneath.

"Guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He slid in as if he was coming home, immediately setting a solid pace that had you seeing stars, arms wrapping around his shoulders to lock hands at his nape. The sensitivity left you pliant in his arms, and Jungwoo didn't hesitate in cradling you in his arms.

"So good for us, Y/N. Always Doie and I's sweet girl."

You nodded, tears brimming at your eyes at the heaviness in your chest, the pulsing in your core. His hair was falling into his eyes, and you lifted your hands to his face, doing your best to brush it away. Your hands cupped his cheeks, heavy eyes burning into his. Your hips were rutting against his desperately now, wanting nothing more than to feel that high with him.

Jungwoo pressed a brief kiss to your neck, feeling something simmer in his gut embarrassingly fast.

Doyoung placed his head next to yours, gently lifting Jungwoo's head to kiss him, hand brushing the other man's ass. When he pulled away, he kissed you as well, and Jungwoo's mouth pressed itself to one of your nipples. You keened against Doyoung's mouth, hips losing all semblance of grace.

Here, you were needy, animalistic, running on instincts, and your boys were drinking it up like water from a desert oasis.

Doyoung pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his lips to yours. His hands cradled your head.

"Can you feel it yet, princess?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, silent moans falling from your lips. "Ah, yeah, Doie… s-so close…"

"Me too," Jungwoo groaned between your breasts, "So wet, Y/N…"

"That's from all the cum she's filled with, right, princess?"

You nodded. "Mm—ngh! Stuffed me so good, Doie."

"Yeah? You gonna let Jungwoo fill you up even more? Gonna keep it all inside, right?"

Your stomach did a backflip, and you felt your toes curl. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want it—"

"I'll give it to you, doll," Jungwoo growled, "It's all—fuck—all yours. S-same way this is all for us, right?"

Those words were what caused you to finally fall over the edge. Your high was so intense that you could have sworn that your ears popped—clawing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut. Only one side ended up scratched, since you always kept your right hand nails short to properly play guitar. You sobbed against Doyoung’s lips, and he eagerly swallowed up your cries, shushing you gently as you came back down.

You didn't feel Jungwoo come inside, but you felt it immediately afterwards—the satisfying stickiness, the warmth in your stomach.

You looked at Jungwoo, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead before prompting him to move off. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you towards him as his little spoon, peppering kisses to your cheek and whispering how good you were. The two of you looked at Doyoung. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. His eyes were drooping, and he was blinking blearily as if he were trying to fight off sleep.

Still, he got up and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, as well as his lighter. As he sat back down on the bed, the waves sent you and Jungwoo further and further into the recesses of slumber. As consciousness left you, you caught Doyoung looking down at the two of you as if you were the most precious beings he'd ever encountered. His tone was low and grumbly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye.

"I hope you two are happy. I can't remember those goddamn lyrics anymore."

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