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fanfickittycat · 3 years

Text

Warmth

TITLE: Warmth

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: fanfickittycat

FANDOM: Haikyuu!!

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

GENRE: Romance/Fluff

FIC SUMMARY: You and Wakatoshi get caught in the rain when you wait for him after practice and he is determined to keep you warm

RATING: T (no smut but kinda spicy at the end)

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: nudity and ushijima being blunt af lmao. You can also read it on AO3 here

Ushijima sighed when he saw you, which wasn’t the greeting you had wanted at all. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” You asked, feeling a little hurt. He told you that practise had been extended by a couple of hours and you had insisted on meeting him anyway, taking the opportunity to get some much-needed reading done in the meantime. “I’m always happy to see you” he said, not letting you continue with that train of thought “but I told you not to wait for me.” This was true. Wakatoshi was never one to mince words, always saying exactly what he meant, even if it was over text. “I thought it would be nice. We always hang out on Fridays.” You felt dejected now, and worst, embarrassed by how desperate you were to see him. You looked down at your shoes which were still damp from the rain and tried to silence the sad thudding of your heart. He was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but you wished he would say something to ease the aching in your chest. “I don’t like when you’re out late” he said plainly “it’s dark, and all this rain isn’t good for you.” You huffed “I’m fine.” Ushijima always seemed to see you as smaller than you really were; fragile and bearing a label that said, ‘to be handled with the utmost care’. He would never let you clamber on the counter in search of something on the top shelf; always insist you wore a scarf when there was even the slightest chill in the air; and even if you were just tipsy off of wine, he’d make you drink a full glass of water. He was sweet but overbearing at times. “I don’t want you to get sick.” “I just wanted to do something nice for you” you mumbled, feeling yourself stiffen and then relax when he petted your head. “I don’t doubt your intentions” he said, and you peeked up at him, finally looking him in the eyes again “I appreciate it.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks flush despite the temperature drop from the evening’s rainstorm. He smiled too, letting his hand cup your cheek. It was warm, and rough from practise, but he cradled the side of your face like it was something precious. His thumb stroked over your skin softly, and you leaned into his touch happily like a cat.

“Come, let’s go.” He said, taking your umbrella from you and shaking it out. He opened it before taking your hand in his to walk to his apartment. It was a short distance away, but the rain was relentless, and the added gusts of wind made it worst. You winced, as the wind whipped your cheeks, and the stray raindrops wet your back, making you shiver. You heard Ushijima mutter something under his breath and looked up to see his teeth clenched as the wind forced the umbrella to fly up and turn inside out. He took his hand off yours to try and close it and open it properly, but the elements had taken your red umbrella and promptly battered it, making it impossible to open smoothly again.

“Let’s wait there” Ushijima pointed to an awning that hung over a closed store, and you rushed to be out of the rain. “Toshi…” you watched him struggle to work the umbrella again “I think it’s broken.” He joined you in looking down at the broken metal rib of the umbrella and pressed his lips together momentarily. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.” “It’s okay” you reached out to touch his arm “you’re soaked.” He looked down at you apologetically. “You are too.” He blinked when you giggled at your shared predicament. “We’re nearly at your apartment” you pointed out “we should run.” He raised an eyebrow “how will you keep up with me?” This was harsh but true. You weren’t built to run like he was, he actually trained, you just lay in bed and scrolled through Twitter. “I have a better plan” he announced, going to throw your umbrella in a nearby bin before returning to you. You watched as he shrugged off his sports jacket and handed it to you. “But Toshi!” “Put it on. You need it more than I do.” You knew he wouldn’t let up, so you conceded, putting your arms through and zipping it up. Only the tops of your fingers peeked out of the sleeves, and the bottom of the jacket brushed your knees. You felt ridiculous but the newfound warmth eclipsed it easily. “Here” he leaned down, squatting nearly to the floor. “Ummmm…” He turned his head so you could see one of his dark eyes “climb on my back. It’s more efficient than you running beside me.” You nearly choked on your saliva when he said that. You had never gotten a piggyback ride from Wakatoshi before, you weren’t even sure he knew the phrase ‘piggyback ride’. Gingerly, you put you secured your hands on his shoulders, feeling shy suddenly. You squeaked when his hand gripped the underside of your thigh, and he hoisted the two of you up. “Wow. You’re really tall” you said dumbly, looking down at the pavement from his height. No wonder he was always so concerned about you, you must have looked tiny to him. “I’m below the average height for spikers” he informed you patiently, but he couldn’t deny the swell of pride he got whenever you were in awe of his physicality.

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting his bag so that it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for you. You squeezed his shoulder in confirmation, holding on tighter as you felt him tense before breaking into a run. The rain hit instantly, soaking Ushijima’s jacket again, and the wind was persistently thrashing your hair, but it was exhilarating. You couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter as you clung to your boyfriend. It wasn’t something you could explain. The rain lashing against you, the wind raging, the utter absurdity of the situation, the feeling of Toshi being so close to you. It was a heady, hysterical mix. When Wakatoshi bent down for you to climb off his back you almost stumbled, still giggling a little as you did so.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself” he said, putting his key in the door. “I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard” you said, shivering as you followed him to the lifts. He took your hands in his and breathed on them, rubbing his palms against the tops of your hands to warm you up. He led you into the lift, clicking the 3 before resuming his task again. “We’ll have to do it again” he said, “I like hearing you like that.” “Toshi” you mumbled his name, feeling butterflies spawn in your stomach again.

“Come, let’s get you warmed up” he said, pulling you towards his door. He opened it, ushering you in before closing the door. He was so methodical in his actions. With a practised hand he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and hung his bag up. You unzipped his jacket, and he took it from you to hang up alongside his bag. “T-Toshi, what’re you doing?” you choked, watching as he pulled his shirt off. It wasn’t as though you’d never seen him shirtless before, you had been intimate with him many times, but it never failed to make your brain malfunction when you saw the smooth planes of pale muscle. You struggled to form a coherent word when he tugged off his sweatpants, looking curiously at your warm face. “One of the easiest ways to develop a cold is from staying in wet clothes” he informed, approaching you to unbutton your blouse. Your breath hitched as he undid each button carefully, not wanting a repeat of the time he pulled too hard and broke half the buttons on your shirt. You had to go home the next day in one of his t-shirts and a promise to buy you a new one, but you hadn’t minded too much, instead declaring that you should get to keep the t-shirt as compensation instead. He hadn’t argued against that and now you slept in it. “It is imperative that we shower as soon as possible” he said, tugging your jeans down, you leaned one hand on his shoulder as you stepped out of them. His hot breath against your thigh almost made your knees weak, causing you to grip him harder. You were almost afraid to let go of him when he remerged, holding a bundle of your shared wet laundry. “I’ll put these to dry, you start the shower” he said nonchalantly, turning to put them on the drying rack, as though the two of you weren’t stripped down to your underwear.

You tiptoed to the bathroom, starting the shower as you usually would, straightening up when you heard him pad towards you. “Do you want to go first?” You asked, feeling the water. “It’s more efficient if we go together” he said directly, he looked at your face “why are you shy? We’ve seen each other naked before.” You cringed “yeah but…” you struggled to justify your bashfulness, hooking your thumbs into your panties and nervously bringing them down your damp legs. “Here” he unclipped your bra expertly after seeing you struggle to do it with your numb fingers. Wakatoshi stepped into the shower first and then offered his hand to you to hold as you got in. The warm water was a welcome relief, but you couldn’t feel that much of it because Ushijima was in front of you. “Come here” he took the shower head down and sprayed you directly whilst you lathered your hands with soap. He hummed happily when you began to massage it into his taut arms, working your way up to his neck which you could barely reach, and then down his pectorals. “Toshi” you huffed, as your soapy hands pressed against his abs. He affixed the shower head and looked down at you. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” “No. Yes. I mean yes.” You cleared your throat, quickly stopping his hand from reaching for the shampoo “kiss” you said urgently, clawing at his abdomen for him to come down to you. He complied, leaning down and capturing your lips lightly with his. He made a soft groan into your mouth when you pushed yourself closer to him, tangling your digits in his wet, olive hair. His own hands curled around your waist, and your thighs pressed together as the warm stream of water flowed down his arms and then the back of your legs. You pulled away and smiled at his red, dumbstruck face “thanks for always keeping me warm, Toshi”.

#updates #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfickittycat #warmth #haikyu #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #anime fanfic #ushijima hc

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purplehannie · 4 years

Text

Tease Me

“I’ll make you cum this time. Promise.”

Tags: Smut, Overstimulation, Orgasm Denial, Oral, Slight Bondage, Clothed Sex, Teasing, Edging, Female Dom Reader, Sub Hyunjin

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 2k

”Sit down.”

Hyunjin walks meekly over to the small black ottoman positioned in the middle of the living room carpet.

”Quickly!” You snap. He trips over his feet as he makes his way to the seat and sat down.

You move closer to him, watching his hands shake as they automatically fall to their places behind his back, ready as you gently tie a silk scarf around his wrists. You crouch down, holding his wrists with one hand, the other gripping his hair to keep his head steady, and whisper into his ear.

”You ready, my love?”

He nods eagerly, a sly smile creeping onto his face. You rise steadily, dragging him with you by his wrists, all the way to the bedroom. You push him down onto the bed, motioning for him to prop himself up on the pillows, and straddle his lap while walking your hands up his chest and moving to kiss him. You slip your pyjama shorts off, letting the cool air hit your soaked underwear, and you whine into his mouth. He groans in reponse, and gently bites your bottom lip as you break away from him. Crossing your arms over and grabbing opposite sides of your shirt, you swiftly pull it over your head, giving Hyunjin a first-class view of your breasts and the crimson bralette that hugs them tightly. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead as he drinks in the sight of you.

”Are you too hot? Can I take your sweatpants off?” ”Please…” He pants. ”Take them off. And my shirt too.”

You hook both hands around the waistline of his pants and slowly drag them down his thighs, past his ankles, free of his body, and throw them onto the floor. You snake a hand underneath his shirt, pushing it over his head and arms, before reaching behind him to release his hands from their restraints and free him from his clothing. You can’t help but feel his erection, straining painfully against the thin material of his underwear, twitching against your leg as the distance between your laps closes ever so slightly. You sink down and rub your clothed heat over his bulge, desperate for some friction, while he throws his hands to your waist and grips onto you as you grind on him. You press firmly against him, moving backwards and forwards, kissing and sucking on his collarbone as he nibbles at your neck. Lining up the outline of the tip of his cock with that of your clitoris, you thrust a hand deep into his head of hair to steady yourself as you begin to move again. Soon you notice him start to tremble, and he moans desperately into your neck as he jerks his hips up against yours, getting closer and closer, heart beating faster and breaths getting more shallow as he feels his high approaching-

You quickly lift yourself off of him and lay down on the bed, grabbing his hands with yours and holding them still.

”Not yet.” You whisper. His eyes water and he whimpers pathetically, crying out as his orgasm fades.

You plant a kiss on his lips, release his hands, and slide his underwear off of his legs, where they join his sweatpants on the carpet below. Glancing up, you see Hyunjin rubbing his shoulders and wincing, and so you move up and replace his hands with yours, gently rubbing in small circles.

”It’s okay baby. You’re doing so good.”

”Can I cum next time?” He pouts.

”I’ll think about it.” You smirk.

A few moments passed before he pipes up again.

”Y/n…”

”Yes?”

”Can we go again now? Please?”

You think for a moment, before removing your hands from his shoulders and kissing him deeply.

”Okay baby boy. Since you’ve been so good for me.” You comfort him as you move towards his twitching cock, stopping halfway down to caress his abs, his hip bones, his thighs, kissing him gently along the way. A small whine escapes from his lips as you wrap yours around his tip, licking up his precum, tasting every inch of him one by one, swirling your tongue generously around him. Hyunjin leans back into the pillows with his arms folded over his eyes, struggling to hold back his groans and whimpers in case you pull back. But you did anyway.

”Hyunjin, baby.” ”Y-yeah?”

”Hands down.”

He reluctantly lets his hands fall to his sides as you continue sucking at his member.

Your hands slippery from your own juices, you smoothly start to stroke his penis, to which he cries out. You tighten your grip and pump him fast, squeezing him, pulsing your fingers around him, while giving small kitten licks to his slit. His breathing is heavy, his whines are desperate and his hands grip the sheets as he struggles to restrain himself. Without warning, you take all of him past your wet lips and into your mouth, letting your tongue roam along the underside as you grip the base of his cock with your hand. You feel his back arch off of the bed as he releases a moan deep from within his chest as his tip presses against the back of your throat. You immediately pull away.

”No!” He cries, instinctively moving his own hands to pleasure himself, desperate for relief. You grab his hands and plant them firmly into the bedsheets, giving him a stern look and he panics and begs you for his orgasm.

”Please… I’m so sorry… didn’t mean to-” ”You know the rules about touching yourself. I let you cum when I want to. Keep still.”

His face falls as you reach into the bedside table, drawing out a small bullet vibrator. He knows what’s coming next. And it’s not him.

”Hands behind your back.” You order. He begrudgingly follows.

You switch the vibrator on, and it sends a gentle buzzing through your hand. You position yourself at Hyunjin’s cock, reaching over and lightly tapping the vibrator against his tip.

His hips buck upwards, and you push them down again. A strangled cry leaves his throat as you gently tap the vibrator along the belly of his erection, following the veins all the way to the tip again, tracing over the head and the slit. You watch as he nears his climax, rolling his hips upwards to reach the vibrator. You switch it off. A tear rolls down his cheek.

You leave him shaking until he exhales sharply and closes his eyes. You switch the toy on again and press it firmly to his cock.

”AH!” He yells in surprise, feeling his orgasm creep up again for the fourth time, and feeling it disappear yet again as you remove the vibrator.

Tears stream down his face as he watches you remove your underwear, leaning forward as you slide it down your legs and throw it onto the floor, and positioning yourself so that your cleavage is right in his face as you unclip your bra. You place the vibrator on your aching pussy, sending a strong buzzing throughout your body, stimulating your sensitive bud to the point where you start to moan in delight. Dragging the bullet up to your belly, you move forward and straddle him again, he buries his face into your neck as you sink onto him, his thick member stretching you deliciously. He groans from the pleasure of finally being inside you, and he grabs your hips to try and fuck you. But you smack his hands away again, and he watches in frustration as, instead of riding him, you sat still and brought the vibrator back to your own core. ”Y/n! ” He cries out, desperate for attention.

”Just a little longer…” You moan and roll your hips slightly as the vibrator sends you to the edge, and as Hyunjin caresses your hips again, you come undone on top of him. Shockwaves of pleasure surge through your body, you cry out as you orgasm, your throbbing walls pulsating against his twitching cock, juices leaking from your hole and dripping down your legs. You pant heavily as you turn the toy off and throw it to the side, burying your face into your boyfriends’ neck. You draw away from him when you feel his tears dripping down his cheeks, onto your temples. He cries in desperation, struggling not to move in case you tease him any further, unable to stand the sweet agony he feels from you denying his release. You throw your hands around his jaw and kiss his lips, touching foreheads, sitting together in silence as you regained your breath.

You gently remove yourself from him to reach for some water, gulping down half a pint to rehydrate before offering it to him. He takes the glass and sips before setting it down again.

”Are you ready?” You ask, tilting your head as you look him in the eye.

”Yes.” He smiles in relief as you run your thumbs over his cheeks.

”Such a good boy… you did so good for me. Well done babyboy.”

He whines loudly as you grab his cock and run it along your entrance, pushing it past your swollen labia and sinking down until you can’t take any more of him in.

“I’ll make you cum this time. Promise.” You bury your face into his neck as you lift yourself gently off of him, leaving just his tip inside of you, before slamming down again and taking him to the hilt. The sudden movement shocks him, and he cries out.

“Fuck!” He grabs your hips, before releasing them and looking up at you in panic.

“It’s okay, baby. Hold me close.” You reassure him, and he holds on to your hips again, fucking you while you sit on top of his thighs. He tilts his head upwards and towards your mouth, kissing you. The added stimulation of your lips slipping against each other, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip as he takes your lips in his again, the feeling of his breath on your cheek and his fingertips pressing more desperately onto your hipbones as he tries his best to steady himself, it’s almost too much to handle.

The room is filled with the sound of your skin slapping together, panting and moaning coming from both of you; the very definition of a hot mess.

”Baby…” Hyunjin groans as his high approaches.

You kiss him gently on his forehead, grasping the back of his head with your hand and letting him bury his face into your neck. His thrusts become more erratic as he jerks his hips upward, his hands groping you all over as you fuck him relentlessly.

”Cum for me, honey.”

He lets out a strangled cry as he orgasms, his cock twitching as he fills you up with his seed, his head thrown back in pleasure. He falls back into the pillows, hands still on your hips as he rides out his high.

You don’t slow down, but instead you lean forward, clasping your hands gently around his neck as you chase your own orgasm. You ride him desperately, feeling your core grow hot. Hyunjin’s cum leaks out of you and drips down your thighs onto his, as he starts to writhe under you.

He whines. ”It’s too much… I can’t…”

The continued stimulation weakens him as you grind on him harder and faster, and tears spill from his eyes as heat spreads throughout his softening member, his tip burning from the overstimulation. He arches his back, letting you take him as deep as you can, and that’s when his cock brushes against your sweet spot, twitching against your walls, sending you over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you, and you collapse onto his chest, gently moving back and forth on top of him as you go weak. His limp cock slips out of you, and you wrap your thighs around one of his, squeezing together as waves of pleasure hit you, one after the other.

Cum trickles out of your aching hole, and you feel empty as Hyunjin shifts over to the side of the bed to clean himself up.

”Come back, baby.” You protest.

”Okay babe.” He obediently slides back into bed with you.

”I love you, baby.” ”I love you too.”

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagine #skz smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz hyunjin

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billhaderlovebot · 5 years

Text

beep beep (2) - richie tozier

okay, mentions of sex, weed, and as usual, language that would make my grandmother disown me. some horror-typical blood stuff. enjoy.

@the-star-above-you @ceruleanrainblues

had it not been for richie's incredible, rugged good looks and sex appeal, as he had so tactfully put it, you were sure you would have tried to fucking murder the guy at least once, because he was infuriating at the best of times.

you'd never actually made an attempt on his life, of course, but now, as he tried to peel away from you and get out of the bed that wasn't a single but not quite big enough for two people, you almost killed him, hissing at him to lay the fuck back down right now we might die today i haven't seen you for like half my life you asshole cuddle me right now, richard.

richie, of course, as he hadn't ever been able to say no to you, smirked and shifted to lay back down, resuming the earlier position in which your limbs had become not unlike that thing where your headphones get all knotted in your bag and you can't figure out how to separate them.

"that's what i thought." you huffed, leaning up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

this was almost surreal. being back here, and with the same man you left behind. it was like, the whole time you'd been apart, you'd only been half a person. and now you were back and he was holding you and you were one whole, functioning person again because he was your other half.

"i was just thinking, yknow." richie voiced, pressing a kiss of his own to your temple. "about, uh, your husband."

"i fucking hope not. that's not good bedroom etiquette, tozier, bedding a girl and then fantasising about her husband."

"shut up," he laughed. "no, i mean, you're... married." he noticeably recoiled at the word, and you visualised the nose-scrunch, because he was definitely scrunching his nose right now. god, you loved him so much.

"i noticed."

"yeah, but, babe, this isn't a very married thing to be doing, is it?" richie gestured to the bedclothes, which you were both very naked underneath, and also his shirt, which had ended up hanging from the door handle. there was underwear strewn about the place, and you literally did not know where your pajamas had gone. oh well.

"rich, when i made the decision to come here, i made the decision to leave there." it was true. you may not have known it at the time, but the moment you left that house you were never to return.

your husband might have been calling, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him. but any calls he made would have come through in a stream of bubbles and a faint gurgling sound, what with your phone still being back home in your bathtub. being back here just proved that this was where you were always supposed to be. with him. you slid off your wedding ring, pressing it into his palm, and it was as if a weight had been lifted.

"it's always been you, richie."

and that was enough for him.

---

bill raised his eyebrows at last night's dark purple and red hickeys that littered your throat, courtesy of a one richard tozier, before joining you where you sat in the common area. you hadn't thought to pack a turtleneck, or a scarf, at that, and so you'd have to avoid everyone's inquisitive looks and make do.

when richie emerged from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and a matching set of hickeys, bill sighed.

"th-thought so." he said.

"huh?"

"thin w-w-walls, guys."

"it's not her fault im the best she's ever had." remarked richie, winking at bill and falling onto the couch beside you. he slung an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into him, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged. "yeah, billy, and it's not his fault he hasn't had a good lay since i dumped his ass in derry."

"hey! you didn't mean to dump my ass."

"ah, but i did, nonetheless."

"fuck you." richie teased, setting his coffee down on the table so he could pretend to argue with you properly.

"no, fuck you." you shot back.

"fuck both of you." a voice, eddie's, whined from the kitchen where richie had come from and interrupted your pretend dispute. "i mean, you kept me up all fucking night, fucking each other absolutely senseless in the room next to mine, you inconsiderate assholes."

"they haven't changed, eddie." bill groaned, rolling his shoulders and leaning back on the couch.

"i know that," said eddie "but i don't think i can deal with it, they're all fucking over each other!"

you supposed eddie was right.

richie, now realising you were here and he was with you and you were both within kissing distance of each other again after over two decades, he took every opportunity to shove you against a wall or a door or a sink or on a bed and kiss you hard. a lot. a lot. seriously, he'd sprung at least four impromtu heavy makeout sessions (with tongue) on you so far and it was only your first day here.

it was like you were teenagers again.

god, if only.

"w-we need to put a plan together." bill said firmly, clasping his hands together. you had noticed his stutter had been worse since you'd left the restaurant. not as bad as when you were kids, but still there. "w-w-we need everyone here, t-together, which doesn't include you two s-sneaking off to suck face."

"but she's got such a nice face." richie whined.

"she won't if you don't get your shit together." you heard the voice of ben hanscom (or, handsome, as richie now referred to him.) as he trudged down the stairs and joined you all in the living room. "so shut up and listen in case IT decides to tear it off her."

now, that had really freaked richie out, so he shrugged in defeat and pulled you tighter to him, kissing your forehead and holding you to his chest.

"good morning to you too, ben." you yawned, circling an arm around richie's waist and allowing him to just hold you.

what? he was fucking warm, ok.

"are you guys gonna be like this the whole time?" ben queried, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee eddie had just brought out for him.

"i think it's sweet." beverly was the next to come in, ruffling the back of her hair and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"yeah guys, we all got hot or married, and richie got less and less familiar with his fucking shower. we should be impressed he got anywhere near her." eddie chided. a chorus of laughter arose, all of you sat around the coffee table on plush couches, and you could pretend, just for a moment, that this was all you were here for. a reunion. but you weren't.

"m-mike's meeting us later." bill explained. "we have.... stuff to do."

---

the clubhouse was almost exactly how you remembered it (save for the inch-thick layer of dust and the smell of rot and the slight water damage from what must have been 27 years of rain leaks). you'd damn near punched richie in the fucking face when he pulled that "you'll float too" bullshit. his impressions were always impeccable, but now was not the time. he'd rectified his mistake by kissing you soundly and offering one to everyone else, to which they all refused.

"reckon we could still fit?" richie echoed your own thoughts as you both stared in at the dusty old hammock you'd spent so many hours on as teenagers, nostalgia coming over you in waves.

"how much you betting, trash-mouth?" you grinned, your tongue poking out from between your teeth.

"five bucks says we can."

you looked over the stretch of fabric that ben had pinned up between the boards on the ceiling all those years ago. you could barely fit on it when you were teenagers, so there wasn't much change of it happening 20-or-so years on. "i say we can't, so, ten bucks."

"done." he said, with an air of finality, and stuck his hand out for you to shake.

"nah," you shook your head. extending your little finger instead."handshakes are for businessmen and drug dealers. pinky swear."

richie hooked his pinky around yours and flashed you his signature shit-eating grin. "get ready to cough up."

a great deal of struggling later, (richie almost bringing the fucking roof down) you were considerably warmer and ten dollars poorer. the rest of the losers stared on in disappointment because the two of you were still absolutely insane. but you had done it.

granted, you'd had to twist very close around each other to fit on, and your leg was sticking out at an odd angle, but neither of you were terribly bothered.

"ten bucks, babe."

"can't i just have sex with you?" you groaned. you hadn't brought much money with you in the first place, and you really needed a coffee and a therapeutic shop for stationary.

"how about you give me ten bucks and then i have sex with you." he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

"i think that consistutes prostitution, actually, babe." you pointed out, kissing his lips and reluctantly pressing two folded fives into his hand. "but i do expect something by way of a sexual favour later on, provided we don't die."

"guys? important stuff is going on. yknow, like, if-we-don't-do-this-we'll get-fucking-murdered stuff." you'd forgotten that the rest of them were there, and eddie had rather pulled you both out of the bubble you were existing in.

"lighten up, eds. i just got my girl back." for once, richie wasn't joking around, and the sincerity in his voice almost made you cry. eddie didn't say anything more.

but mike did. "we have to split up to find our artefacts." he chimed in, reminding you all exactly what you were there for. "we have stan's, and i have mine. you'll know what they are when you see them."

you couldn't help but feel sorry for mike. he knew so much and had everything so planned out, but at what cost? he had been waiting alone for years and years and years, knowing full well the rest of derry depended on him not giving up, even if they didn't know it themselves.

"w-we can't split." bill interjected. "it's t-too dangerous. what if one of us d-d-d-d..." he inhaled deeply, calming himself and allowing mike to put a hand on his shoulder. "what if something happens. i won't forgive myself."

"im not letting this one out of my fucking sight, mikey." richie concurred, absently drumming his fingers where they rested on your waist. "no fucking way."

"you have to do this alone. all of you." mike continued, and you knew he was right.

ben and beverly knew it, too, and had begun making their way out of the clubhouse, the maggot-eaten wood of the ladder groaning in protest underneath their feet.

"right. a-are you s-sure, mike? really?"

"positive. this is how it has to be."

------

"okay, so if you die, we can't fuck later, and i would rather like to, so, maybe don't die, please." richie was trying to make light of possibly the worst moment of his life, but it wasn't working so well, because his hands were shaking so hard that he could barely keep ahold of you.

"i'll be fine, rich." you assured him, leaning against his chest and inhaling the scent of home.

"you don't know that, y-y-you don't-- t-there's no way you can-- y-y-you're-"

you cut him off by firmly pressing your lips to his, and it did seem to calm him. the act of holding you close and feeling the rise and fall of your chest and knowing he could touch you and you were still here. you thread your fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and allowed him to deepen the kiss, knowing he needed it.

he had always needed reassurance when you were kids, because he'd always been insecure or scared about something he couldn't remember. he always went to you first, because the whole vulnerable thing wasn't really his scene, and you were the only person who saw it. and his nightmares, god, the fucking nightmares. you hadn't seen him cry before until he woke up shaking in your bed, searching around for something to grab onto because he couldn't tell what was real or not. he cried for what seemed like hours in your arms and all you could do was hold him.

"you're stuttering worse than billy." you murmured, close enough so your lips just barely touched. "ill be fine."

his eyes searched yours desperately for any sort of truth, but he could tell that you weren't sure. that you were just as shit-scared as he was and you were holding it together for the both of you.

"fuck." was all he said.

"fuck." you agreed.

---

1994

---

"baby." richie's voice was practically ecstatic down the phone. you grinned and reached over to your shelf to turn your record player, and the cure, down.

"yes?"

"i have, like, the best idea ever."

"and what would that be?"

"so, yknow, i have like, a shit ton of pot."

"uh huh."

"and i haven't seen you in like, uh, like two days. which is, fuckin, two days too long, yknow."

"yeah, of course."

"so, what say you and me get really really stoned and wait for your grandmother to leave for bingo and have a lot, and i mean a lot, of high sex."

"trash-mouth tozier, i may just take you up on that." you smirked, twirling the bright red phone cord in between your fingers.

"oh, good, cause im already here."

richie's voice was now coming from your actual window.

you whirled round to see him perched on the fire escape like a fucking curly haired pigeon with a high libido.

"god, you do know how to make an entrance, rich, fuck me."

"ask, and ye shall receive." richie smirked, dropping his legs through your window. in two strides he was in front of you, pupils dilated and partly concealed by his dark curls. his glasses were almost falling off his nose.

the phone receiver dropped from your hand and clattered to the ground as you reached up to take them off, and-

oh, and then his tongue was inside your mouth, so the glasses fell and landed alongside the phone by your bare feet.

no matter how many times you kissed richie tozier, it never failed to surprise you just how fucking good he was at it. you found yourself rather at his mercy whenever his lips were on yours, his hands on your face or in your hair or your back trouser pockets. he'd always make a point of tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and oh my fucking god. wow.

"well i can't fucking see you now, can i?" he whined, pulling away and blinking hard in an attempt to adjust to you having taken his actual sight away.

you responded by reaching your hand around to his back pocket where you knew his silver zippo would be.

"and here i thought you loved me."

richie stuck his bottom lip out in mock sadness, but grinned about two seconds after, reaching into his other pocket and handing you a small zip-lock baggie.

"you know that i love you." you smiled, kissing his lips and edging round him to get to your bed.

"you do?" he asked.

"more than anything."

----

2016

----

the zippo lighter was much heavier than you remembered it, you thought, as you turned it over and over in your hands.

you flicked it open, but no flame arose. not as though you expected it to.

god, those years were the happiest of your life. after IT. when richie and yourself could be happy and in love and kids.

just two stupid kids in love.

and your heart ached now as you thought of all the lost years. all that time you could have spent with him, watching him grow, and growing alongside him.

but you were together again, and it was alright. it was alright, now.

"beep beep, richie's girl."

the voice that came from behind you caused your heart to plummet, and you swore it could have fallen out of your ass.

"oh, fuck no. you fuck right off, right fucking now." you steadied the shaking of your hands. you were not afraid. i mean, yes, you were, very much so. but you weren't letting It see you weak.

clenching your fists, you slowly turned to look at the space near the window from which the voice had come.

oh, fuck.

it was richie.

or it would have been, if it were normal for richie to have a huge slice across his throat and a considerable amount of his left arm missing.

blood poured like a fucking faucet from the slash, forming grotesque patterns where it fell across its shirt.

"help me, baby." it choked, hands coming up to the wound, trying desperately to hold it together. it fell to its knees before you and pleaded with you to fucking help me, please and then it was crying and in that moment it's eyes looked so fucking much like his that you almost threw up.

"no, fuck no." you were seriously, seriously about to vomit right now, but you weren't about to embarrass yourself in front of a supernatural evil entity.

"please." blood came spluttering from its mouth, and you had to commend it on its honest to god phenomenal acting. it wasn't a pretty sight, honestly, because richie in any form of pain was enough to make you want to tear out your eyes, even a fake richie. but this wasn't him.

"you got it wrong." you flipped the lighter open and closed absently, hoping to whatever god would listen that the shake in your voice wasn't noticeable.

the mock expression of fear disappeared from not-richie's face.

"m not fucking scared of you. you'll only hurt me if i let you, right?" you hoped to god that you were right, because it'd be pretty embarrassing if after all that, you were torn to shreds anyway.

and then it was gone. leaving behind, scrawled in fake richie's fake blood on the wall:

beep beep, richie's girl.

you had to admire the theatrics, really.

---

richie hadn't wanted to talk about his artefact, or where he had got it, and you knew better than to push him.

he looked so fucking tense, tears in his eyes, that you just wanted to hold him and never let go ever until the earth stopped spinning. but that wasn't an option, so:

"nap?" you suggested, reaching up to thread your fingers through his hair.

his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch.

"yeah. nap."

"rich?"

"yeah?"

"i love you."

"i love you more."

"fuck you."

"no, fuck you."

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #adult richie #it richie #it 2019 #it chapter 2

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bubmyg · 6 years

Note

Can u write about best friend yoongi getting a lol jealous about you and one of the others having matching socks or something dumb so he goes and rummages his closest and gives you one of his black hoodies to match the one he’s already wearing with no explanation other than “you look cold I’m just helping” kdjwjsbx

genre/warnings: college “best friend”!yoongi, when isn’t guk a little shit in these,part of the “ps i love you” series linked on my masterlist

a/n: combined (kinda) with this request: “Hannah!! Can u write about yoongi and his SO going out and it’s winter and he told his SO to wear something warm but she was all like “nah I can handle it”,and when they’re outside after a while she says “I’m cold” and yoong gets pissed and starts nagging “I told u to put on more layers” but at the same time takes his scarf off to put on her and continues nagging like “now I have to make sure u don’t freeze” while he takes his coat off and makes sure she’s all nice and warm :3 I saw this on ig😂”

word count: 1,088

Jimin’s sock clad feet carried him at a sliding pace across the hardwood, setting up a barricade in front of the door, feet and palms pressing into the frame as he glared, smile spread over his teeth.

“You’re not leaving until you put on a coat,” The grey haired boy taunted, “We’re not leaving until you put on a coat.”

“No, mom,” You shook the sleeves of your thin shirt until they pooled over your knuckles, curling the hems into curled fingers, “I’m fine with just this.”

“Give it a half hour. You won’t be saying that.”

“We’re going to a bonfire,” You glared at Jimin’s unwavering expression, “I’ll just walk into the fire—”

“Just let her freeze, hyung,” Jeongguk’s loud footsteps clomped up behind you, untied shoelaces smacking and dragging against the hardwood. He grinned when you whipped around to glare at him, “That’s funnier, anyway.”

A glob of approaching black beyond Jeongguk’s shoulder perked your attention away from smacking the youngest, your eyebrows raising in triumphant as you jumped around. “Listen, guys I’ll be fine, I have—”

“Nope,” Yoongi paused directly in front of you, pointedly yanking the zipper up on his jacket to rest just underneath his chin. Cheeks poked out from the pressure of the insulated black tightening the clump of his hoodie around his neck, bright blue beanie nearly tugged over amused irises. “You’re not getting any part of what I’m wearing the second your stubborn ass gets cold.” The swell of your bottom lip earned a flash of Yoongi’s gums, shaking his head.

“Just listen to them and go grab a jacket or something.”

Your arms folded tight to your chest, shirt still yanked purposefully over your knuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing at this point.”

Jimin sighed, melting off the door frame to stride for you. He dug deep in his pockets, stretching a glob of knit black in your direction, smile neutral, “At least take my gloves?”

“But then you won’t have any—”

The tangled mess of fabric was pressed forcefully into the crook of your elbow, Jimin’s hands returning to the depths of his pockets. He returned victorious with a similar pair, waving the matching ends in front of your face.

“Nope, we’ll just match.”

You’d barely, reluctantly, rolled half of one of the gloves across straightened digits when Yoongi was vanishing with a grunt of disapproval.

Jeongguk whined, “We were almost ready to leave!”

Your mouth fished to agree, to inquire where he’d gone, second glove secured across your appendage when the eldest was flying back down the staircase, taking two creaking steps at a time, a bundle of black fabric tight in white knuckles.

“Take this,” Yoongi ordered, the once folded black hoodie curling outward and hanging limply from his fist. He’d added a scarf around his neck, lips ducked underneath the soft grey, voice muffled, “Please.”

“I don’t—”

He leaned impossibly close, the fibers in his scarf tickling at the edge of your nose, eyes dark like the smell of peppermint coffee clinging to every piece of his clothing. “Angel,” He blinked, forcing the bulk of the hoodie against your chest, “Put it on.”

Your sighs emitted from the hole made for your head, glare prominent when you popped from the other end, shrugging baggy sleeves across your knuckles with the sheer fabric of your under shirt. You didn’t fix your hair, letting the static force it against your eyelashes to glare at Yoongi, “Happy?”

He hummed, index finger reaching to absently nudge the hair out of your eyes.

“You’re still going to freeze.”

You shrugged, shoving gloved hands into the front pouch, Somewhere behind you, the door opened and Jeongguk’s clacking shoelaces passed by.

“I still have you.”

“And you’re still not getting any of this,” Yoongi’s hands fell on your hips, turning you and nudging you toward the door Jimin held open with a knowing smirk.

“I told you that you would still be cold.”

It was much harder to drag on a zipper from the front, Yoongi decided. He struggled, yanking down at the material at your front to force the metal higher, nearly catching the underside of your watching chin in the process. He barely paused, neck craning to yank his scarf off.

“You also said you weren’t going to give me your jacket,” Your eyes followed the path of the black fabric as he stretched it, “but here we are.”

“I have to make sure you don’t freeze,” He purposefully shoved the scarf across your mouth, lips quirking at the corners when you spluttered, “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you freeze?”

“A terrible one.”

“Watch it,” Nimble fingers twisted and worked the scarf until it was snugly fit around the lower half of your face, “I’ll take it all back and your toes will fall off and I won’t feel bad about it.”

“Yeah,” Your stature jerked as Yoongi’s fingers tucked underneath your scarf, nudging it so that it sat securely inside the collar of your hoodie. Dryly, you quipped, “Okay.”

His thumb and index finger tucked against the zipper, yanking once, sending your nearly immobile stature stumbling into his chest. “Should have worn more layers,” He teased, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

“Shouldn’t have given me your hoodie. Or jacket,” You pressed your cheek against his chest, “Or scarf.”

“Shouldn’t have been my friend then.”

You hummed and his heart threatened to break through the remaining layers of clothing still draped across his torso when you snuggled further into him.

“That’d suck.”

“What, not having my scarf on? Yeah, the wind is pretty bad so like—”

“No, nerd,” You adjusted your position enough to rut your chin into his chest, squinting up at him, “Not being your friend. It’d suck to not be your friend.”

“Oh,” The pink decorating the back of Yoongi’s neck and tinging the tips of his ears suddenly felt very hot. “Yeah, you’re alright too, I guess.”

Jeongguk was three bites into a hot dog when Jimin nudged his side, blatant point traveling across the fire to your figures.

“He gave her his jacket,” Jimin squinted around the jump of flames, “and his scarf.”

The youngest rolled his eyes, diving into a fourth bite as he watched you lean up and peck the red tip of Yoongi’s nose, earning a shy scrunch all over his flushed features.

He swallowed the charred meat and bread in his cheeks, dryly grumbling, “I’m surprised it took this long.”

#min yoongi #bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #yoongi scenario #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenario #bts imagine #yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #uwu #fic: best friend myg

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qqueenofhades · 6 years

Note

“Garcia Flynn is a sub. Only for Lucy” No truer words have been spoken and I love it.

…look.

You didn’t actually phrase this as a fic prompt, but is anyone going to mind if I turn it into a fic prompt? Because I think probably not.

Hella rated E. And definitely below the cut.

“Little bit lower,” Flynn says. “And tight, but not too tight. You don’t want to cut off the circulation, but you also don’t want to let me pull it loose. Oh, and Lucy? If you start blushing now, we’re really going to be in trouble.”

Lucy bites her lip, though she’s not sure that’s going to do much to stop a flush, as she loops the silk scarf around his wrists, pulls the knot up to the tendons on the back, and looks for the best place on the headboard to fasten the other end. This is probably the first time in his life that Garcia Flynn has been calmly instructing someone how to best tie him up (or maybe not the first – she doesn’t know what he was into with Lorena, after all) and moreover, lying still and letting them do it. The bedroom windows are open, smelling of long summer evening and rain, and their new safe house is not the kind that comes with neighbors, but Lucy still feels a reflexive, shameful fear that someone might be watching, snooping or judging. If not from outside, then within. But the rest of the team is elsewhere, they’ve locked the bedroom door, and moreover, are grown-ass, mature, consenting adults in a committed relationship (even if they haven’t really gotten around to talking about it yet). If they want to try something a little different tonight, that is entirely their prerogative.

Lucy is not sure how the subject arose, exactly. Just that there have been several moments of her wondering how much she could control Flynn, how much he would let her, and how that could be explored in a, shall we say, more intimate capacity. They’ve slept together a few times, and it’s been very good, and she may have at last broached the subject. Not directly, but Flynn knew her well enough to guess, and bluntly spelled it out while she blushed even harder than she is presently. (“You know,” he remarked, eyebrow raised. “You’re going to have to be a lot bossier than that, Lucy.”)

Fine, then. Bossy it is. Lucy is still fully dressed, while Flynn is shirtless, and she finds herself warming to the task as she ties his wrists to the headboard. She’s about to ask if she should do ankles too, then remembers that’s her call. Right now, they don’t have enough scarves, and perhaps part of it will be seeing if he doesn’t move his feet if she tells him not to, even if he could. Wrists are enough to start with, and she checks that they’re in place. She still feels self-conscious, but less so. It’s not going to be anything too ridiculous, not hardcore BDSM or anything like that. She doesn’t want to hurt him, she wouldn’t get off on that. But a little power and control –

Well. The point of tonight is finding out.

“Ready?” she asks breathily, still Lucy, Garcia’s girlfriend, rather than Lucy, Garcia’s dominatrix. (Or lesser version thereof.) “Should we start?”

Flynn cocks an eyebrow at her, again reminding her that it’s her call. They have agreed on a safe word (”Rittenhouse,” because nothing is more likely to kill the mood) but he has assured her that there’s pretty much nothing she can realistically do to him that he wouldn’t be prepared for or able to handle. Which is disturbing in its way, since she doesn’t want to think what has happened to him in much less enjoyable situations, but reassuring as well. She takes one more breath, and then decides that yeah, she’s going to do this. “That is,” she says. “We’re starting.”

He grins at her, as Lucy checks over her shoulder one more time that the door is locked. She unbuttons her blouse and shucks it off, then removes her high-waisted jeans as well, conscious of him watching her. As she straightens up, wearing only her bra and lace-edged panties, she says, “Close your eyes.”

Flynn closes them, and does not appear inclined to sneak a peek, as Lucy lets her hair down and crawls up on the bed, looking down at him consideringly. She straddles him, sitting solidly on his hips, and hears him let out a slight breath, but he doesn’t try to move or look. There’s a pause. Then she leans forward, hair hanging in fragrant dark tumbles around his face, and kisses the corner of his mouth, not quite on his lips. “Mm, no,” she breathes, when he half-turns his head. “Can’t kiss me back yet, Flynn.”

Since she generally calls him Garcia now when they’re alone, it’s a reminder that they’re going to have to work up, and he licks his lips in something both arousal and frustration as she goes to work. Kisses the corner of his lips, the side of his chin, his closed eyelids, and each cheek, then on the shell of his ear, musing lightly with the lobe. Then she moves across to his mouth, bends down, and sucks his lower lip between her teeth. Bites just hard enough to make him grunt, then soothes it with her tongue. Puts her open mouth over his, and breathes a few times, then nips at his pulse point. Circles her tongue in the hollow of his collarbone, and runs both hands over his shoulders. Then she unsnaps her bra, very deliberately, and slides it off her arms, and finally whispers, “Open your eyes.”

He does, staring up at her topless, and his throat visibly moves as he swallows. There’s a brief tension rippling through his arms, as if he wants nothing more to take her breasts in hand to cup and caress, but is obviously and literally restrained from doing so. His eyes are dark with hunger as he regards her, as Lucy scoots up on him, then bends down, lowering one of her nipples neatly into his mouth. “Gentle,” she says. “At least mostly.”

Flynn follows instructions, sucking at first, then breathing hot against her damp skin, twirling the nipple expertly to a stiff peak and then biting down – gentle, at least mostly. Lucy braces her forearms on either side of his head and directs him with a glance to move his attentions to the other breast, which he does. She presses her hips down on him, which elicits a small, rough sound deep in his throat, and much as she enjoys it, feels it wet and low, she shakes her head at him. “Quiet,” she murmurs. “Until I say so.”

There is a faint sheen of sweat on Flynn’s forehead, as if she is going to kill him faster than he was anticipating, but he restrains from making another noise. Lucy pulls back, separating her chest from his lips, and runs a finger around them instead, not quite into his mouth. Then she sits up and shucks her panties, kicking them off her legs, and slides down Flynn to start slowly toying at the fastening of his jeans. Hmm. Looks like they might be getting a little uncomfortable. Someone should help him with that. In a manner of speaking.

Lucy trails her fingers over the bulge, gives him a tsk-tsk when he makes a hissing sound, and flips open the button, pulling down the zipper bit by incremental bit. She slides her hands in and tugs them down his hips, giving him permission to help wriggle them off with another look, and he kicks them off his feet. She is then even slower about getting his briefs off, breathing on him through the thin cloth, kissing the dark line of hair low on his stomach, and making light circles with her fingers on the strong lines of his abs. She leans in and nips at his hip, as Flynn tugs a little harder at the restraints and discovers that her knots are not just for show. “Uh-uh,” she reminds him. “Stay still.”

He mutters a curse in Croatian under his breath, and while this is technically also breaking the no-noise rule, Lucy decides to let it slide. She reaches for the lube on the bedside table and squeezes out a palmful, then rubs her hands together to get them nice and slick. Slides them slowly down his belly and under the waistband of his briefs, finds him hard and hot inside, and cups him lightly, cock and balls. Settles on him reverse cowgirl, giving him a fine view of her ass and doubtless a healthy regret of his life choices (good), and continues what she’s doing with her hands for a while. Then she finally pulls the briefs down, and this time does not let him help get them off. When they’re finally both totally naked, she considers one of several attractive options. Finally, she slides back up toward his head, bringing herself just above his mouth, and sits on her heels. “Come on,” she says, in a hungry little gulp. “Have a taste.”

Flynn moves his mouth up just enough to kiss the wetness between her legs, nosing into her folds and turning his head to take her lower lips with his. The angle is not quite right for him to get at her clit, but he licks at her as delicately as a cat in cream, pressing inside her just a bit with his tongue, as she shudders all over and clutches a fistful of the pillows. Then – well, Lucy has met any teenage boy in the world and thus knows what sixty-nine means in this context, but she hasn’t actually tried it. Keeping herself in easy range of Flynn’s mouth, spreading her knees on either side of his head, she leans down his body and takes hold of him in her hand. Then opens her mouth and takes him in, soft and sweet, tonguing the head and giving him a quick, thorough suck.

Flynn groans out loud, totally breaking the noise rule, and Lucy thinks it might be time to cut the poor man some slack (metaphorically speaking, because there’s definitely no slack anywhere else). She glances over her shoulder with an impishly quirked eyebrow, ordering him to get back to work, and she sees the shudder that passes through him from head to toe as he valiantly tries to concentrate on doing just that when she’s licking a slow stripe up the underside of the shaft, taking him a little deeper and scraping him with just a hint of teeth. He actually manages to eat her out for a few moments, making her whine and press into him, sliding back far enough to let him get at her clit. His shoulders buck against her; he would probably be able to break the knots if he really pulled, but he doesn’t. His mouth is hot and frenetic inside her as hers is the same on him, as they tug and bite and suck and muse and lick, and she finally pulls her lips off him with a wet pop and shifts herself away from his. She lies with her head against his stomach, breathing hard, then rolls off and lies next to him. He is visibly quivering, glistening and straining and gasping.

Lucy sweeps her lube-slick hand from low on his belly up to his collarbone, then sits upright, gets the water bottle from the side table, and puts it to his mouth and lets him have a drink. She does the same – it is thirsty business, after all – and then gets more of the lube, sheening both of them nicely. She wants to be wet enough to take him without a single hitch, and she basically is, but no harm in making sure. She can see the veins standing out in his neck and in both arms as she leans down to kiss his chin. “Do you want one hand out?”

“Yes,” Flynn says. “Yes, I fucking do want one hand out.”

“Ask me. Don’t forget to say please.”

“Lucy, can I have one hand out, please?”

“No.” She grins at the look on his face. “You’re staying where you are.”

Flynn grimaces horribly, but swallows his objections, as Lucy once more straddles him, positioning herself just above him but not quite touching him. She spreads herself with her fingers, dragging a slow sweep of her thumb over her clit, and lets him watch her touch herself for a bit, just to really rue his lack of hand-related freedom. Then she shifts closer and takes hold of him, easing him just an inch or so inside her. As she has had cause to note before, he is big – not freakishly huge, but big enough to be in proportion to the rest of him, and to slide into her and stretch her with a sweet, thorough burn. She looks down at him entering her, then gives her hips a little roll, taking a bit more. He pushes into her firmly, arching his hips, and she pushes them flat with both hands, causing him to slip a few inches out of her and making both of them moan. Lucy pauses long enough to watch the sweat bead on his forehead and then roll down his nose, before resuming the motion and letting him find purchase all the way within, a sword in its sheath. He pulses like a heart, hot and hard and solid as a rock, in more ways than one. God, she likes how he feels inside her.

Lucy braces the heels of her hands on his shoulders, gazes down into his eyes, and utters a satisfied little mewl. Then, slowly and then faster, since all this testing and taunting and teasing is doing a number on her self-control as well, she starts to buck up on him, moving back and forth and side to side and then in slow circles, testing each angle and depth of penetration and dragging him over every nerve that she can possibly find. They are all raw and sensitive and swollen, sending jerking frissons of pleasure through her core and up into her thighs. She whimpers and thrusts on him harder, pulling one of his knees up beside her, then reaches up and finally slips one of his wrists out of the scarf. Grabs hold of his hand and shoves it hard alongside his head, their fingers locking together, pulling and tearing, almost bruising. She bounces on him, grabbing onto his lean thigh with her other hand, fingernails biting into the muscle. Jesus. Yes. Yes. Yes.

(She, she has discovered, likes many things about Garcia Flynn. One of the things she really likes is fucking him. And vice versa.)

Lucy clenches tightly around him as the pace increases and the rhythm starts to disintegrate, turning into long, shuddering, racking thrusts that neither of them seem able to control. She bends forward on all fours, hand still locked with his free one, not letting go, not letting him touch anywhere or do anything but hang onto her, as she can feel both of them getting closer and closer and doesn’t let up, even as it feels like her heart is about to explode in her chest. She ruts and racks and pulls on him, as her breath stutters and her entire body starts to let go. Flynn jerks, grunts, swears, and manages about half of an arching thrust before he loses it, spilling himself hot inside her. Lucy can feel it slick on her thighs, in the few moments before her own body is swept up in the hot wet heat of release. She pants and grabs at him and collapses on his chest, spasming around him, too sensitive and stimulated to bear even the slight movements inside her as he starts to soften. “Jesus,” she manages. “Jesus, Garcia. God. Oh God.”

It’s hard to tell, but Flynn looks a bit smug, as if oh ho, finally the turntables. He, however, still patiently waits until she pulls her hand out of his, and beckons with her chin, indicating him to put his arm over her. He does, holding her close against him, as she continues to gulp and struggle to catch her breath. Then she says in a hoarse whisper, “You can do whatever you want now.”

“Mmm.” He hums, kissing her eyelids, then her mouth, wet and deep and tender, shifting himself to slide out of her slowly, slowly. “I think I just did.”

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #yeah um this is really dirty #avert your eyes chilluns #ellothelongwaydown #ask

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lore-a-lie · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2, Act 8: Lives on the Chopin block

CLASS TRIAL- IN SESSION

Everyone went to their proper podiums again, with three new crossed out portraits filling up their ranks.

Miu’s was naturally the first that Kaede turned to, her eyes staring back at her from between the three crosses going across her face. She idly wondered if it was because of the girl’s lewdness or a comment on how “strong” her personality was, like alcohol, but it felt fitting in a darkly humorous sort of way. Miu still would have probably appreciated this little joke either way, if she were there to see it. But she wasn’t.

Reluctantly she turned from Miu’s face, past Shuichi’s, to see about those of her other lost friends. It was hard to avoid thinking about whose face would be joining these monochrome memorials after this too. But even that was more pleasant than to really see where Maki and Kirumi’s deaths left them.

Ryoma was alone now, flanked on both sides with dead faces. That of one of his closest friends in this prison, and the other the girl who threatened his life to escape it. But at least the latter’s absence made it easier for Kaito and him to share glances now, for what little support that could give each other.

Though these looks would also mean every time Kaito faced him he’d see the harsh reminder of Maki’s death looming over Ryoma. Kaede couldn’t imagine what seeing that must be like for either of them.

The red lines hardly looked out of place for Maki’s, but the cross was placed less like an X and more like a plus sign. Or more accurately a gun’s scope, given the circle around it. It was almost a blessing her cause of death wasn’t up in the air like Himiko’s initially was, since they at least knew for sure she wasn’t really shot.

Kirumi’s portrait was pretty bland in comparison. The lines were cleaner and crisper than Rantaro’s, but less artistic than Shuichi’s, just a plain formal X on the center of her face. Like checking off a box on a grocery list or a voting ballot. Not that anyone here ever voted for her to do anything.

But there wasn’t much time for contemplation. Their lives were all on the lines again.

“Aww, everyone seems so depressed this time. It’s okay! I’m sure it will be okay! We know what it’s like to watch as your number keeps dwindling one by one but you’ll bounce back. Just like we did!” Monophanie began, taking a triumphant pose with her paws where her hips should be as she looked up to the sky with Monotaro’s scarf blowing in the breeze. The source being the fan Monodam held for her.

“Ya don’t need ta lie to 'em ‘Phanie, they know what they gotta do. Speaking of, youse all best ignore any of what our old paw sez capisce? He’s just an audience this time, we’re still running this show!” Monosuke followed.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. It’s almost nice to have a break for a change. I’ve been doing this for just soooo long you know? This should be so much less stressful, it’s gonna be great for my fur. It’s not easy to keep up this youthful complexion, with how much work I’ve had to put into these games year after year...” Monokuma dismissively replied from his throne, taking out a compact to play with some blush for emphasis as he slighted his most obnoxious son.

“Then-Don’t-Interrupt-Us-Anymore-Father. I-Shall-Do-The-Basic-Explanation-Of-The-Class-Trial.”

“I didn’t agree to that shit! You chumps know the drill by now, if you really don’t know how this works yet then just shut up and watch. Ya argue like a family at dinner over who sent your buddy ta go sleep with da fishes, and vote for “Howdunit”.”

“You mean “Whodunit” Monosuke. “Howdunit” or “Howcatchem”s are completely different types of mysteries. We don’t care how any crime was done, even a completely blind guess would be valid in this courtroom.” Monophanie corrected, again acting like this was some boring comedy routine.

As Monosuke distracted himself bickering with Monophanie over "embearassing" him for his mistake Monodam took over again. “But-If-You-Vote-For-The-Wrong-Person-All-Of-You-Will-Die. If-You-Vote-Right-Only-The-One-Responsible-Will-Be-Punished, With-An-Execution-Made-To-Best-Reflect-Who-They-Were-As-A-Person, Sins-And-All.”

“Oi, not everyone dies if they get the criminal wrong you bucket o’ bolts! If the innocent spotless can’t catch which of them blackened themselves with the blood of their “friends” the killer graduates! They can get the hell outta dodge and leave this place, no strings attached, even if they don’t want to.” Monosuke chimed, while he got his sister into some sort of headlock to "settle" their dispute.

And got an uppercut to his "jaw" for his troubles, as she proved victorious again so she could continue while Monodam nervously watched. (Honestly, with how distracting it is watching them squabble and how dumb they normally are I'm really impressed what they're saying is still coherent. And yet still somehow equally useless. We still know all of this already, so why put us through the entire thing a THIRD time?!)

“And no one is allowed to get out of this without risking bloodying their own hands either. As long as you’re in the minority a wrong vote won’t be held against you, but if you don’t vote we need to kill you. Well, Monosuke will if one of you decides to try, I want no part of it. We’d refuse if we could, I’m sorry.”

“But-I’m-Sure-None-Of-You-Would-Want-That-So-Let’s-Move-On!" Monodam rushed so Monosuke couldn't try picking a fight with their sister again. "Remember-To-Be-Respectful-Of-Each- Others-Thoughts-And-Feelings-As-You-Argue, Even-If-Some-Of-You-Need-To-Lie-And-Accuse-Each-Other.”

“Oh Jeez this is really gonna suck isn’t it? You tykes didn’t even bother trying to stick to your scripts!” Monokuma grumbled behind them, knocking his head against the back of his chair.

“Of-Course-We-Didn’t. What-Is-The-Point-Of-Replacing-You-If-We-Were-Going-To-Follow-Your-Orders?”

Kaito gladly took the opportunity to try and put things back on track.

“Let’s just ignore them for now you guys. Sorry if I can’t be of much help this time.”

“Not to worry, no one blames you Kaito." Kibo quickly dismissed with a sympathetic look. "Between the first victim and your illness this was expected.”

“My what? Who said anything about me being sick?! I’m not sick, I’m as hearty as a horse!”

“Suuure you are Kaito. You really want to admit you’ve just been scared shitless this whole time?”

“FUCK YOU KOKICHI, I ain’t afraid of-”

“No ghost?” Kokichi finished for him with a matching unnatural ghostlike grin on his face and a cackle. (How the fuck does he even make expressions like that?! Who even cackles anymore outside of movies?)

“Please don’t make this one long ghost joke you two, we already had a failed seance and no zombies.” Tsumugi said with a sigh, making Tenko nod her head in agreement.

“Does it count as a failure if we never got to start it?” Angie asked, the picture of utmost innocence.

“We ended up with more dead people than we had when you wackos started, hell yeah it counts!” Kaito shouted, looking appalled he had to point it out to her.

While Angie huffed, Kiyo took the chance to make his argument instead. “It wouldn’t have failed, someone just took advantage of the few of us isolating ourselves for that brief window of time to kill Kirumi. But we should answer the question of who attacked Maki first yes?”

“No! Kirumi’s the freshest so she should be the one we focus on." Tenko shot back, banging against the front railing of her podium with her momentum. "Besides, it’s obvious whoever killed Maki is the one who would have tried attacking you guys. Or BE one of you guys. So Kiyo’s the culprit!” She pointed at him.

Ryoma stepped in before Kiyo had the chance to defend himself though. “Easy there Tenko. Angie’s the one who had the gold on her hands from the gold katana that was used to kill her and it was Angie is who wanted to perform the seance, so shouldn’t she be our prime suspect? The only sources of gold leaf we have are that sword and the supply from her lab, Kaito and I checked.”

“Nuh-uh, Angie would never kill anybody! A degenerate like Kiyo’s way more likely, it was his katana. Besides if there was gold on the underside of all the handles in those rooms wouldn’t that make not getting any on him suspicious? I mean Kirumi wouldn’t since she never tried to leave before… You know.” Tenko trailed off as the memory of the horrifying scene made her lose steam.

“Anyone could enter my lab and take it, and not having gold on my hands still proves I could not have handled that Katana. And with the game’s “first come, first served” rule why should we assume one person is responsible for both crimes? As the only blackened we need to find is Maki’s killer should we not focus our efforts on that culprit first?”

“I agree with Kiyo, there will be time to go over Kirumi’s death later. We can even sort out who killed her outside of the court if we run out of time before we can settle it.” Ryoma said, giving Kirumi’s portrait a wary glance.

“Yeah! Besides Maki has more possible suspects too, so settling her death will take more time.” Kaito agreed.

“Why would the killings be unrelated though, aren’t they a bit too close together to be a coincidence? If we uncover Kirumi��s killer it may help narrow down potential suspects for Maki too, if the two aren’t one and the same. But Angie isn’t responsible for either of these, I swear by Atua’s name.”

“Is “Atua” really their name, or just what they are? Merely asking out of genuine curiosity I assure you.” Kiyo asked, and despite his claim the question had an unmistakable snark to it earning him a glare.

“Hush up you heretic, Angie need not speak His name. That's a higher member benefit.”

“I… I guess the two could be related? I mean Kirumi was the one investigating Maki’s body so maybe the killer chose to attack her just in case she noticed something in addition to wanting to stop the seance.” Kaede suggested, unsure of what else to say.

“Then Kiyo’s still the killer because he chose Kirumi to act as the Medium-”

“No, he didn’t Tenko! Kirumi ask him for job. Gonta may no be able to help but he still hear that right.”

“Exactly. And Angie was the one who chose the rooms we were going to use, I only said they needed to be dark. It would appear the katana used to cut off the head of our maid was hidden under those rooms. Had I been the one to kill her why wouldn’t I have simply used a weapon from Maki’s lab instead?”

“Why would anyone have used a katana in that poor condition then? It is most surprising it is able to cut as well as it is despite its current state. Maki’s lab would be a plain better place to take something like this from, wouldn’t it? It’s probably where the knife Kiyo found in Kirumi’s apron came from too.” Kibo pointed out.

“Oooh I know, I know! Angie had to use it because she’d be too short to reach Kirumi’s neck with anything else!” Kokichi said, hopping up and down as he raised his hand like a kid with a look that screamed he knew he was wrong and just merrily teasing them again. And so Kibo took the bait.

“Negative, that is both illogical and unlikely. While none of Maki’s weapons are as long as the katana’s blade the angle of the cut wouldn’t be this even if that were the case, there’d be a slope to it. Besides Kirumi may not have even been standing when she was attacked.”

“Umm, wouldn’t there need to be a lot of force behind the swing too? Angie isn’t sure why everybody’s only picking on her and Kiyo.” Angie said, looking a little confused as Kiyo only shrugged.

Seeing as it was easy to clear up Kaede explained this one. “It’s because of the announcement. It only rings when three people not counting the killer finds a body, and it didn’t ring until Ryoma caught up to us. Unless anyone thinks I could have done this too?”

“Ah, fair point. I hadn’t noticed. Are you sure that’s when it rang Kaede?" Kiyo asked as he, Angie, and Ryoma took a moment to mentally go over what happened. "Everything was rather hectic at that point of time I'm afraid. I hardly remember the bell ringing at all, and I wasn’t in nearly as much shock as you were at the time, my apologies.”

“Yeah, sorry Kaede but I don’t really remember hearing anything other than you screaming either when I caught up with you three." Ryoma reluctantly agreed, giving Angie a wary glance as she still seemed to be thinking it over and coming up blank. "It could have rang, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t really paying attention to that thing in the first place.”

… Am I sure? I mean a lot was going on and we’ve heard it so often now. I couldn’t really catch what anyone was saying either. And I don’t want to accuse either of them. Or is Kiyo trying to gaslight us, and just tricked Ryoma? Why would he kill Kirumi? He’d have to have blood or something on him right- OH!

“Hmm, maybe you’re right. I mean neither of you has her blood on you- well I mean Kiyo has some on his bandages now but only from touching her, he didn’t when he offered to help- and with how… Messy it all was that’s pretty unlikely, isn’t it? Especially since the killer also posed her.”

“But no one here got blood on them. Could killer have been under boards to stay clean? That why crosspiece cut?” Gonta asked, struggling to picture what might explain this.

“A killer attacking someone from under the floorboards you say? Oh, that sure is nostalgic. Not to mention that mask, or a knife and the same golden katana being present for a murder. So many memories~ Isn’t it lovely how violence keeps repeating itself like clockwork?” Monokuma drawled.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to talk this time! Besides, I think it’s more like an Endless Waltz-”

“Tsumugi don’t let his nonsense ramblings distract you! Just ignore him.”

“And keep your own nonsense nerdy ramblings to yourself too! You’ll just distract us and that’s waaay worse.” Kokichi scolded, as if to parody Kaito, who gave him a scowl for twisting his words against her.

“Gonta does make a good point though, the cross pieces don’t seem to be related to anything. Unless it made Kirumi trip, to help set up the attack?” Kibo suggested, trying to get everyone back on track.

“No, had that been the case Kirumi would have most likely suffered at least a head wound. We saw Kaede nearly fall prey to it, and who knows what would have befallen her if not for Gonta’s intervention.” Kibo said, though he looked frustrated that this left the boards unexplained for this.

“Then how else would someone hide the blood? I mean there was so much of it and nobody found any sheets or anything to clean any of it up or block the splatter right?” Tsumugi nervously asked.

Let’s see… We ruled out using something to cover them since we didn’t find anything.

Even Angie’s lab doesn’t have a sink so there was definitely no way for anyone to wash the blood off.

… But hiding it UNDER something we’d expect a person to normally wear could work if it covered enough of them. Particularly if they were one of the three checking rooms for the seance, since no one would see them without it. Which would only leave one person.

But none of this is making any sense. What motive could he possibly have to do something like this?

“I think I know the trick to this now you guys. If you’ll let me explain my theory on how this happened…”

Kaede looked around the room, and everyone gave their approval. No one had any distinct ideas after all. So she began painting the scene for them with her words and the sound of her voice the best she could.

“First the culprit set up the three rooms sometime before today. Cutting through the crossbeams and applying gold leaf to the handles would take too long for this to be anything other than premeditated. I can’t explain the floorboard trap, but it could be to help distract anyone who found this by accident.

Today, when someone else suggested these rooms be used for the seance it was time for that premeditation to pay off. They made sure only one person went into each room, themselves, their victim, and the one they planned to frame for this. Ideally, their fall guy was the one who’d suggest this.

They wouldn’t need to do anything for their mark to set themselves up, since they’d likely touch the loose gold when trying to leave the room, making it look like they’ve touched the golden katana.

Not only would the culprit know to avoid the gold there, the victim wouldn’t have a chance to touch it either, so if we didn’t notice the handles we’d assume there was no other way for the gold to be there. They may have even originally planned to clean the other two handles, since they set it up so it wouldn’t matter who went into each room, but obviously they never got the chance so we weren’t fooled by this.

But that doesn’t explain how they kept their hands clean to start with. That ties into how they didn’t seem to get anything on them.

They went under the floor, where the three rooms are all connected, and took off their jacket. They already planted the katana in that crawlspace, so it was a vital area for them both to keep their weapon out of sight and provide a way to get into the victim's room without being seen.

Since there weren't any bloodied covers in this area that means whatever they used to hide the blood they'd get on them is still with them. Here there are two possibilities. They could have left their coat down there to make sure it'd stay clean, dropping it off when they got the katana or vice versa. Or they took off their coat, turned it inside out, and tied it around their waist like an apron to help keep any blood from getting on their legs. I think the latter's more likely here.

After that, they pick up the katana and go to the room they know Kirumi entered so none of the gold would get anywhere they couldn't explain later. They have to act fast because while the rooms are dark since there aren’t any candles it also means she’d be tempted to leave soon. Maybe they even said something to help make her pause or used the seesaw trap to distract her.

Ultimately they succeeded in decapitating her. It could be due to the killer having a light source on them or just the length of the blade covering a lot of the room but their goal was achieved. After doing so they moved her body to the wall near where they entered, posing her as if it was for a twisted tea ceremony.

With how general the pose is in practice even that could have been done in the dark, and I’m not entirely sure why they chose to move her like this at all. It could be to keep her away from the seesaw trap in the center of the room, but it's really hard to say.

To get rid of the gold and blood from their hands they remove the wrappings they put there. The cotton strips could then be used to help touch up any other clean up they need to do on the walk back to the room they’d be expected to leave from. But first, they’d stop to put the blood-soaked katana under the room their patsy was in to further implicate them of this crime.

With the katana gone and blood mostly out of the way they put their jacket back on, over their probably blood covered shirt, and stuff the soiled wrappings in one of their pockets while applying some fresh bandages so that we’d be none the wiser that they changed at all as we’d notice if they were missing.

That’s probably around the time I found Kirumi’s body, since everything happened so fast. It wasn’t hard to look like they were just worried about what was going on when they joined the rest of us, and if they needed to adjust anything else we’d all be distracted trying to find out what was going on even if the body was found sooner than they were planning on.

I wasn’t imagining the bell delay before either. Since they needed to see what I was screaming about as soon as they could to keep from being suspicious, they really were one of the first three to see the body.

So… The easiest way to for us to see if I’ve got this wrong would be for you to take off your jacket Kiyo. Otherwise, there’s no one else who could do it this way. No one could enter or leave those rooms without anyone else noticing, and at least Angie’s hands would still have blood on them if she tried my method.”

The room went silent as they turned to look at him. But despite the horrors he’s accused of he isn’t upset. Korekiyo doesn’t seem bothered by anyof this in the slightest. And that wasn’t the worst of it.

He’s smiling. There’s no doubt about the expression under that mask. He’s accused of murder and he looks like a child who just got a brand new set of toys to play with! Something isn’t right here. I know he’s kinda messed up but this is going too far! How can he possibly be so happy about this right now?!

“Nicely done Kaede! I’m most impressed, I’m sure that’d deductions would make even an Ultimate Detective proud. You’re always so full of such wonderful surprises. You are absolutely correct! But so there is no room for doubt here I will concede, and I do apologize if it is unduly upsetting to any of you.”

There really weren’t any doubts as he laid his coat along the railing of his podium. There’s so much blood his white undershirt could nearly be mistaken for Maki’s top, it’s even worse than his bandages were. He made no move to take off the bandages though, since considering everything he really didn’t need to. But even as he stood before them in his bloodied button down he didn’t seem the least bit nervous.

“Though I must also confess, the trick with the floorboards really is unrelated here. That was just a remnant of a plan I scrapped after seeing it might be too difficult to properly utilize. Though had I stuck with it Kirumi would have died all the same, during the caged dog seance. Any other questions?”

“... What the actual fuck?”

“Do be more specific Kaito. I can’t answer you if I’m not sure to which part of this you are referring to.”

“Are you giving up then?” Ryoma practically growled as he visibly struggled to restrain himself.

“For Kirumi’s murder most certainly! But if you think now is a good time for us to vote you’d be most sorely mistaken. Not unless your death wish has changed to wanting to have us all die alongside you. Because for the terms of this trial, as bloody as I may be, I’m still as “spotless” as everyone else. However, I am grateful you all have allowed me to experience something so close to what our true blackened must have all felt before their ends. It’s a most enlightening and intriguing sensation.”

“What are you talking about?! You killed Kirumi you bastard-” Tenko shouted at him, as if hoping if she got angry enough his confidence would crumble and see he was doomed. But he just wouldn’t stop.

“Indeed I did! But only Kirumi. Just ask Gonta or Ryoma, I was with them when Maki died. Unless you’d prefer I simply tell you all who our real blackened is, the one you all should have been seeking? Now I do understand if you don’t wish to believe me, but it won’t make my words any less the truth. I’m offering to reward you all for your fine work in order to keep the trial up to this point from being a wasted effort.”

What? So he just killed her because he knew he’d get away with it?! Is he telling the truth right now?

“Why did you even go so far then?! The posing, the decapitation, all of it! Why kill someone at all if you know you aren’t going to graduate from it?” Kaito snapped.

“Must you be so hung up on that? Her death has never mattered in this case. But fine. I only meant to cut into her neck enough to be fatal, to assure her a quick death, but I misjudged the sharpness of the blade. I hadn’t tested it enough so I didn’t notice the rust wasn’t an indicator of it being dull, so I put much more force into the swing than I should have. The posing was an attempt to give her some dignity after my mistake. I also thought it may suit an “artist’s” sensibilities, to buy me more time to prove I was not guilty of killing Maki should I have needed it. I do apologize for framing you Angie, I have no excuse.”

Angie’s smile was completely gone as she blankly stared at the monster standing beside her. The hate in her eyes was unmistakable. Had she been someone else she may have even tried to attack him, for the way his apologies as he faced her felt like a mockery. But her resolve was stronger than that so she just watched him in silence, refusing to dignify any of this with a response, until Kaito began shouting at him again.

“How can you say a person’s death didn’t matter?! Like hell we’d ever just let that be swept under the rug. We can’t just ignore what happened to them in order to protect ourselves. She was our friend! Besides, Maki Roll told me she was going to talk to you last night so you still could have done this.”

“And that is true, but she left my lab before I did and I still have my alibi. Gonta was even as gracious as to escort me back to my dorm, in accordance to the student council’s curfew Maki and I both broke. But given what happened I suspect she never actually left the fourth floor.” Korekiyo claimed.

“So what, you’re trying to pin your crimes on Kibo or Angie again?! We don’t need to waste any more time on your lies, I’m ready to vote!”

“And it’d be suicide Tenko, we still have a ways to go to prove anything. I saw both of them that night and if the Monokuma-” Ryoma began to argue before peanut gallery interfered again.

“It’s a Monosuke file you bastard!”

“Oh shut up Monosuke, let them work or I’ll gag you with my scarf!”

“Ohh, kinky.”

“She-Said-Be-Quiet! And-Why-Would-You-Even-Joke-Like-That-Father?!”

“... Fine. If the Monosuke file is to be believed I saw Kiyo at the time it said Maki died. I don’t see thing being some sort of trick he pulled either, she’s too quick to lose to someone like him in a fight.”

“Yeah. Gonta… Not really understanding why he do this but Kiyo not lying about Gonta escorting him. But… That means student council kill Maki? Why?! We… We protect all students. No exceptions!” Gonta said best he could through his confusion, sweat, and tears.

“Exactly! And Angie definitely didn’t see Maki that night. I was working in my lab, no visitors either.” Angie quickly claimed, which got a nod from Tenko and Monophanie to offer some support for it.

Not to be outdone Kibo also rushed to his own defense. “I didn’t see anyone, I was working in the computer lab the entire time! You can even check the log for the program I’ve been fixing, everything is time stamped so I have a solid alibi!”

Korekiyo almost looked bored as he shook his head at both of their panicked responses. “You all seem to be forgetting there was one other person on the fourth floor that night. Kirumi was the one patrolling the halls so Kibo had his time to work and help weed out any of Angie’s unwanted guests.”

“I’m not the culprit!” Kibo shouted over him.

“Angie’s not the culprit!” Angie said at almost the same time and volume.

“You’re both idiots is what you are.” Korekiyo bitterly countered them almost just as quickly.

It was hard to get a word in edgewise as the three kept talking over each other in their efforts to prove they weren’t the culprits. Well, the two were, as Korekiyo simply kept being drowned out as he tried to prove they were panicking over nothing. His argument seemed sound enough though, despite Kaede’s wariness.

Framing Angie for Kirumi’s death in order to make her a suspect for Maki’s would have only worked if he always planned on making her the person he planned to frame, which doesn’t seem like the case.

Kibo’s been completely unrelated to the case so far and has no motive to go to Kiyo’s lab to kill Maki.

But Kirumi’s a different story. She had been so ready to kill after her video she lashed out in front of everyone. Maybe Maki was able to pick up on that and confronted her about and something… Snapped.

“So Kiyo, what you mean to tell us is you killed Kirumi because you knew she was guilty of killing Maki?” Kaede asked, hoping to anything that would listen that this wouldn't blow up in her face.

“Precisely. That is why she put herself in charge of examining Maki’s body, much like how I examined my own victim in kind. Kirumi planted those ashes, not discovered them. I saw her do it since I knew to keep an eye on her already. It’s also when she took the knife Maki had when she fell, hidden under the pieces of the broken banister. I suspect Maki used it in self-defense, rather than the blood being Maki’s, given how its style indicates it came from Maki’s lab, when Kirumi would have likely preferred the equally easy to obtain kitchen knives as she had more experience with them.”

“So what? You mean to tell us you killed Kirumi to avenge Maki since you knew the two fought for some reason you’re not sharing? I’m not buying it.”

“Oh goodness no, if that was my motivation I wouldn’t have needed to do anything. Can you imagine the execution Monokuma would have had in store for her? Kirumi wasn’t the sort of woman who’d be content to go quietly into the night either, so her own futile efforts to elude her grisly fate would have only prolonged things even more. She’d never allow herself to die with dignity if she could help it. Survival was far too important for her. So I spared her that suffering, as beautiful as it may have been.”

“So… Kiyo kill Kirumi to… Protect Kirumi? Like killing wounded animal that can’t get better?”

“Very good Gonta! And not just her either. So far I’ve been the only one of us who hasn’t played a part in sending our friends to their graves, with voting to have them executed. Now I’m the only one with her blood on my hands, rather than having it divided amongst us all. I didn’t think anyone would mind that.”

The courtroom was nothing but arguing as they tried to decide whether or not Korekiyo was telling them the truth, and if he was if it would have in any way justified his actions. He wasn’t wrong in acting like Kirumi would have died either way, had she really killed Maki, but by taking things into his own hands he denied her the chance to defend or explain herself.

Even if that wouldn’t have changed anything in the end, she had a right to a fair trial, didn’t she? Except then they’d still have to see what living hell Kirumi would undoubtedly be forced through to die. But was the alternative Korekiyo made for them really better for anyone here but him?

Korekiyo still let them string themselves along like this, to watch them as they struggled to figure out what happened, when he could have ended things much sooner by just explaining himself. The only reason he could possibly have for this was his own entertainment. He’s already expressed similar sentiments so often pulling a stunt like this wasn’t really that much different.

He’s always been a sadistic creep, but they underestimated just how far he was willing to go with it. Kaede resisted the urge to put her head in her hands to try and block out Korekiyo’s twisted logic.

Head in her hands- Kirumi’s bloody head in her hands- Please I don’t want that image in my head- Wait.

Kirumi was only there because she didn’t want Kaede to be involved. Like Gonta said Korekiyo didn’t choose Kirumi like he was now claiming. So his reasoning for “picking” her must have been a lie too.

When I offered to be the medium before Korekiyo looked surprised but pleased.

Like everything was going according to plan without him lifting so much as a finger.

Kirumi wanting the role initially bothered him, before he adapted. Which means...

It was supposed to be ME in that room, not Kirumi. Kirumi just got in his way.

Korekiyo was trying to kill me.

Why on earth would he want me dead? I haven’t done anything wrong!

Why would he do that even after asking if I could be his sister’s friend when we got out-

… Unless she’s already dead.

That’s why he reacted the way he did during his motive video. That’s why the last words were about some promise between the two of them. The promise to make her some female friends on his travels.

It was reminding him he already failed. Not unless he wanted to try giving his dead sister some dead friends. Like those cruel burial rites where you kill innocents just to give the person who died company.

This is why Kokichi has been weird when he’s around Korekiyo. He realized what he was capable of. That’s why after we got the Necronomicon he’s been trying to make sure I’m not left alone with him.

Maybe it wasn’t just me either. The casino stunt helped keep Korekiyo away from any girls he might go after, aside from Maki. Maki would be able to protect herself though, and she had Ryoma and Kaito too.

Even if Korekiyo slipped away he wouldn’t have an alibi, and Gonta was between him and the school. Tenko was likely the first girl he’d be able to attack, and he wouldn’t stand a chance against her.

Why didn’t Kokichi just tell me? What was he afraid of? Being wrong? Tipping Korekiyo off? Scaring me?

Should… Should I tell them? If… If there is another reason Korekiyo wanted me dead this might really be an isolated incident. The stuff he’s saying is really screwed up, but he isn’t that wrong.

None of us wanted to see another of our friends be executed, no matter what they did to deserve it. And no matter how he did it a quick death would have been a lot less painful than what Monokuma planned.

Well not really Monokuma’s plans. The mastermind behind this game is the one to blame for all of this.

Maybe Korekiyo thinks I could have been the mastermind and he was just trying to end the game? If he gives that as a reason then I’m not sure anyone would be able to trust me anymore, even if I can prove he’s wrong or hiding his real motive. Would anyone believe me? Could I prove I wasn’t the mastermind?

But if he doesn’t think I’m the mastermind then he could go after someone else next. I’d probably be too risky to try killing again anytime soon, but Angie’s cult looks like it’ll be gone now and even if Tenko’s enough to scare him off Tsumugi’s in danger. Assuming he couldn’t just kill Tenko with some trap.

Either way, if I bring this up someone will probably want to kill Korekiyo even more than they already do. And whoever does will just end up being the next friend we execute, even if the victim definitely deserved it.

Which option is the more acceptable risk? Korekiyo killing someone else, or someone killing him? Having to recover from losing an innocent victim, or condemning a sympathetic murderer for protecting us? Can’t there be a third option? Could we really keep him in check without killing him somehow?

What do I do? I… I can’t breathe. I need to focus on breathing. I NEED to calm down. To think this through.

But I don’t know what to do.

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365daysofj2 · 7 years

Text

The New Guy Swallows (Museum!Boys, NC-17, 4/?)

Jared’s phone rings right as he unlocks his front door. He juggles his keys and lunchbox and fumbles around for his phone. He slides his finger across the screen and desperately hopes he made it in time. “Hello?” “You will not believe what just happened to me,” growls Jensen. Jared didn’t even have a chance to look at the caller ID. Jared kicks his door shut and dumps his lunchbox and keys on the easy chair next to the door. He glances at the clock on the wall above the TV. It’s ten after five, which means Jensen might still be at the museum. “You wanna tell me in person?” He hears Jensen’s car engine thrum to life in the background. “Are you inviting me over?” “I can order pizza,” replies Jared. “We’ll have a couple beers and you can tell me all about it.” Jensen’s answer is harsh and tinny, and Jared guesses he put him on speaker so he could drive. “Uh…yeah, okay. That sounds good.” “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes, then,” says Jared with a slightly dopey grin. He hasn’t seen Jensen in almost two weeks because their schedules just haven’t lined up, and he’s more than a little desperate. “Drive safe.” “I will,” promises Jensen, his voice fond and warm. “See you soon.” The call ends, and Jared unlocks his phone so he can order the pizza. Once that’s done, he puts four more bottles of Tröegs Winter Warmer in his fridge to chill behind the two that were already in there. He sets paper plates and napkins out on the dining room table and decides to replace the burned-out bulbs in the overhead light before Jensen arrives. He’s just finished replacing the glass cover when the doorbell rings. Jensen’s wearing a gray wool peacoat and a navy blue scarf over his brick-red Hershey Story logo shirt and black trousers, and his sandy brown hair is mussed and unevenly spiked from the biting wind. Jared quickly ushers Jensen in and closes the door against the winter chill. “Hey, Jensen. Glad you made it.” Jensen sheds his coat and scarf and starts toward Jared’s coat closet to hang them up, but Jared intercepts him for a more intimate greeting. Jensen’s lips are icy and chapped from the wind, but Jared doesn’t care one bit. He kisses Jensen until Jensen’s lips are just as warm as his own. “I needed that,” murmurs Jensen once they finally break apart. Jensen hangs up his coat and scarf and flops down on the couch next to Jared. He rests the back of his head against the cushion and closes his eyes. “Bad day?” asks Jared softly. “Not until the last fifteen freaking minutes,” grumbles Jensen. “I was still working on my drawer, because somehow I ended up with an extra dollar and fifty cents, and then the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it, but then there would just have been a voicemail that I would have had to deal with, so I gave in and answered it. And boy, was that a freaking mistake.” “What was it?” “It was a lady from a travel agency who said she had to pay for a group order right that second because they’re scheduled to come in fourteen days and today was the deadline for paying.” “Fuck. What did you do?” “I called the MOD, but it was Alaina filling in for Kim, so she didn’t know what to do, and of course the full-timers downstairs had already left, so Alaina ended up calling Samantha on her cell phone.” “Smith or Ferris?” Samantha Ferris is the library director, and Samantha Smith is the administrative assistant who handles group orders. “Ferris,” answers Jensen. “And she apparently responded with a torrent of profanity before telling Alaina to see if Misha was still there.” “Was he?” Misha is officially the assistant director of finance, but he’s actually the administrative equivalent of maintenance—he’s the guy you call when things go wrong. “Well, Alaina transferred the call to him, and that’s the last I heard. It was already 4:55, and I hadn’t dropped either of my bags yet or changed the labs on the board for tomorrow. It was five after five by the time I finally got downstairs to clock out.” Jared slings an arm around Jensen and draws him in close. “I’m sorry you had such a shitty closing.” Jensen rests his head on Jared’s shoulder and stretches an arm across his chest. “I was pissed before, but now I’m just tired.” “I wish I could tell you it gets better, but it doesn't.” Jared presses their foreheads together. “Happy customers are all alike, but every shitty customer is shitty in its own way.” Jensen barks out a laugh without a trace of humor in it. “Ain’t that the truth.” “You do, however, start to get over it faster,” adds Jared. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s interrupted by the doorbell. He untangles himself from Jensen and stands up. “Food’s here.” “Thank God, I’m starving.” Jensen moves aside so Jared can get to the door, but follows so Jared can hand off the boxes to him while he pays. Jensen sets the boxes out on the dining room table while Jared closes the door and crosses the living room to join him. Jensen opens the box of cheesesticks and two cups of marinara sauce before tackling the boxes of pizza. “I didn’t know what you liked,” says Jared, “so I got one plain cheese and one meat lover’s.” Jensen grins. “That’s perfect.” He kisses Jared on the cheek as he moves past him to the opposite chair. “This is great. Thank you.” Jared retrieves the beer bottles from the fridge and uncaps them. Jensen’s grin gets even wider. “There, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He takes a long swig of his as soon as it’s set in front of him. “You earned it, man.” Jared sips his own and tears off a couple of cheesesticks. Jensen sighs and drinks more of his beer. “Some days I’m not sure if I’m going to survive Christmas.” “Hang in there. It gets way, way better in January.” Jared reaches across the table and lightly bumps his knuckles against Jensen’s. “I told Kim I want to do more desk shifts, so you and I should get to work together soon.” Jensen’s eyes light up. “Okay, now there’s an incentive.” He tears his cheesestick in half and dips it in sauce. “Are you working Christmas Eve?” asks Jared. Jensen swallows and nods, frowning. “Yeah, I close.” “So do I,” replies Jared, reaching for an unopened cup of sauce. “So why don’t you come to my place afterwards and you can stay through Christmas Day.” Jensen’s eyes widen. “You don’t have any family stuff planned?” “My family’s going to Japan to visit my sister. Her husband’s stationed at the Air Force base in Okinawa. So I’m totally free.” Jared smiles. “There’s no one I’d rather spend Christmas with than you.” Jensen’s cheeks turn pink, but he smiles back. “That sounds perfect to me.” “Good! It’s settled, then.” Jared sets the empty cheesestick box aside and grabs a few slices of meat lover’s pizza. “My mom made a big pan of lasagna for us to heat up on Christmas Eve, and I’ll roast a split turkey breast for Christmas. It’s so much easier to handle than a whole turkey. I hope you don’t mind boxed stuffing and mashed potatoes and store-bought gravy and cranberry sauce.” Jensen shakes his head, still smiling. “That’s way better than the frozen beef and broccoli I was planning to have for Christmas.” Jared lightly nudges Jensen’s foot with his own under the table. “Stick with me, kid. I may not be the best cook in the world, but I definitely won’t let you starve.” Jensen takes a couple pieces of cheese pizza and sits back in his chair. “It’s not physical hunger that I was worried about.” Jared grins softly. “I won’t let you starve for affection either.” “I know you won’t.” Jensen ducks his head and glances up at Jared through his long, luscious eyelashes. “I just hope I won’t disappoint you.” “Jensen.” Jensen looks up with pink-tinged cheeks. “Nothing about you is a disappointment. Sex is like any other physical activity—the more you do it, the better you get.” Jensen looks down at the table again and nods. “I just feel so awkward and uncoordinated around you. You’re, like, this totally ripped bodybuilder and I’m just…me.” Jared shakes his head. “I’m ‘just me’ too, you know,” he says with a gentle smile. “And I think ‘just you’ is pretty damn gorgeous.” Jensen blushes even harder, so much that even the tip of his nose turns bright red. Jared pushes his half-empty plate aside and stands up. “In fact, I’m hungry for something entirely different now,” he purrs, extending a hand to Jensen. Jensen gets up and takes Jared’s outstretched hand, but he won’t make eye contact with Jared. Jared leads him into his bedroom and turns on the bedside lamp. He tugs Jensen close enough that their lower bodies are flush, allowing Jensen to feel Jared’s excitement for himself. Jared untucks Jensen’s museum logo shirt and starts to unbutton it with gentle, delicate movements. Jensen’s breathing faster now, little hot puffs of air tickling Jared’s neck. Jared unbuttons the last button and Jensen shrugs out of the shirt, allowing Jared to toss it aside. Jensen then reaches for the zipper on Jared’s hoodie and unzips it with the same delicate care that Jared used. Jared slips out of the hoodie and it joins Jensen’s work shirt on the floor. Jared then pulls Jensen’s undershirt over his head, and Jensen does the same for Jared’s Steelers t-shirt. Jared unbuckles Jensen’s black leather belt and pulls it off in one smooth motion. Jensen’s breath catches, and as Jared moves to unfasten Jensen’s black trousers, his fingers brush over Jensen’s hard, leaking cock, prompting a full-body shiver and a bitten-off moan from Jensen. Jared strips off Jensen’s work pants and boxer-briefs with exaggerated care and drops to his knees to take Jensen’s beautifully flushed, glistening cockhead between his lips. Jared runs his tongue around the underside of the head and then flicks it over the slit, eliciting a ragged moan from Jensen. Jared presses one finger behind Jensen’s balls and teases them with a gentle touch while he takes more of Jensen’s cock into his mouth. Jensen tangles his fingers in Jared’s hair with one hand and grips Jared’s shoulder hard enough to bruise with the other. Jared cups Jensen’s ass cheeks and encourages him to fuck his mouth. Fortunately, Jensen gets the message and starts to thrust, shallowly at first, and Jared relaxes his jaw and pulls Jensen closer to him. It takes a minute, but Jensen finally catches on and starts to thrust in earnest, and when the tip of Jensen’s cock hits the soft tissue at the back of Jared’s throat, Jared hums his approval. Jared massages Jensen’s ass with his hands as Jensen fucks his mouth like a goddamn pro, and it’s not long before Jensen comes with a hoarse groan, spilling his seed down Jared’s throat. Jared swallows it all and releases Jensen’s cock with a succulent pop. Jared slowly climbs to his feet and, without warning, shoves Jensen down onto the bed. Jensen sputters, but before he can move, Jared straddles Jensen’s hips and pins him down. “My turn,” he growls, nudging Jensen’s closed lips with the slick tip of his hot, achingly hard cock. Jensen parts those plump, petal-pink lips and allows Jared’s cock to pass forth. Jensen laves a thick stripe down the underside of Jared’s cock, but Jared’s cock is so huge that Jensen’s only able to take him in halfway. Jensen draws back, tracing the shaft with the tip of his tongue and then fluttering it over the slit in a way that makes Jared’s knees go weak. He braces his hands on the pillow underneath Jensen’s head and stays upright by sheer force of will. Jensen teases Jared’s cockhead with that talented tongue until Jared feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin. He pushes in further, giving Jensen a subtle but unmistakeable plea for more. Jensen loosens his grip on Jared’s cockhead and lets Jared start to thrust. Jared fucks Jensen’s mouth as hard as he dares, digging his fingers into the pillow to steady himself. Jensen’s hands grip Jared’s hips just tightly enough to support his weight, and Jensen’s lips are firm and warm around Jared’s hot, tight cock. Jensen’s hair is all mussed up, sticking up in every direction, and sweat drips down his forehead to pool in the hollows beneath his closed eyelids. As far as Jared’s concerned, Jensen’s never looked better. Jared’s balls tighten and he knows he’s getting close. Seconds later, he lets out a loud groan and comes like a shotgun down Jensen’s throat. Jensen just swallows it all like a champ and sucks in a rush of cold air that gives Jared goosebumps. He eases his rapidly softening cock out of Jensen’s mouth and collapses on the bed next to him. “Wow,” breathes Jensen, curling up against Jared’s side and stretching an arm across Jared’s stomach. “That was, like, the hottest thing ever.” Jared grins. “Stick with me, kid. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

#j2 au #j2 fanfic #j2 #365daysofj2 #museum

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