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Ooh~ la la! Never in my wildest (and wettest) dreams did I ever think this kink meme would yield such passionate results! With nearly five thousand comments in the initial post, I figured it was high time we bring the naked party over into a new post to leave the first open for request followup and... other forms of fulfillment
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How had it come to this?
Yosuke can’t think, let alone remember. He feels heat on his neck, hands on his back, someone’s chest against his. His head hangs back listlessly on his neck, and something - lips, he thinks, when the word finally comes to him - slides down, down, presses against the hollow of his throat. His eyes flutter closed as he tries to make sense of the world right now. First problem: where is he?
No, not the location; he can’t even begin to guess at that much. Where is he now? His body feels heavy, and his sense of the room is that he’s lying on the floor with the stranger on top of him. But suddenly they lurch, and Yosuke’s back connects with a wall, and he gasps as his head spins and his brain reorients itself to this new information.
He barely feels his legs. He’s only standing because the other person is strong enough to support his weight, and this makes him uneasy because that means it’s a man. He shivers as one of those hands leaves his back, presses intimately against his thigh and moves higher, up and under his shirt and his uniform jacket, calloused hands caressing warm skin. The feeling sparks something in his stagnant brain, a memory of Souji wincing in pain the day after one of their first fighting sessions inside the TV, a long, long time ago, and showing him the angry blisters on his fingers from gripping the hilt of his sword too tightly.
“Sou…ji…?” he whispers, when his mouth can finally form the word. But it doesn’t make sense - Souji’s been isolating himself in his room ever since Nanako’s death and hasn’t spoken a word to any of them. Nor has Souji ever indicated that he wanted to - he gasps out as the hand slips down into his pants - do this to him.
The soft sound of laughter reaches his ears, although it’s dulled and distant, as though he’s been dunked underwater. When he thinks about this moment later, he realizes what’s been said.
“You wish, kid.”
The hand pumps his erection, once, twice, and he thinks he cries out, but it’s lost in the fabric of the man’s shirt as his head lolls forward and rests there. He has no grip on reality, no firm mental ground to stand on, and the only thing that cuts through the pounding headache and the cobwebs in his brain is the slow, steady throb of pleasure between his legs. He uses it, focuses on it, the only constant, concrete feeling available to him, and even though he feels like he should be ashamed of the desperately needy sounds he’s making as the hand strokes him, he can’t because it’s the only thing keeping him conscious.
Soon, he’s able to shift the fragile focus of his thoughts from the ache in his groin to the heat in his face, and from there, the heat of the overhead lights in the cold room. It’s enough, and slowly, painfully, his head begins to clear, just a little. He opens his eyes.
There’s black hair, and a black suit on the extreme edge of his vision; in the middle of the room, a table and two chairs; in the corner, a television. The walls, the same as the one he’s being pushed up and pleasured against, are cold, smooth, gray, and he realizes with a twist of his stomach where he is, and more importantly, who he’s here with.
The memory finally comes back to him. He’d been out walking in the foggy shopping district, trying to clear his head of the events at the hospital only a few nights before. He recalls walking right into the detective as he turned the corner near the liquor store, hardly able to see a foot in front of him due to the fog. He remembers apologies, and subdued, friendly greetings. The detective had looked concerned about his downcast demeanor, and Yosuke had agreed to follow him to the police department, just to chat. The man had been eager to glean something new about the case, anything to boost poor Dojima-san’s spirit just a little after that terrible tragedy, and Yosuke desperately needed someone, anyone to talk to. At the police station he remembers being asked if he was cold, being offered a hot drink, sipping it gratefully, and barely getting out words of thanks before the floor was rushing up to meet him.
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“You’re finally awake, I see. That’s good.” He sounds cheerful, normal, but there’s something definitely wrong about it. How does one sound cheerful and normal while jerking off a teenage boy in an interrogation room? Thinking about it only brings more pain, and Yosuke shuts his eyes tight again, gasps hard against Adachi’s shoulder. “You must have been dreaming about your friend. It’s pretty rude to think about another person when someone’s doing this to you, you know?”
Yosuke can’t reply, only groan softly as Adachi’s hand brings him closer and closer to completion. His own hands are frozen, one dangling uselessly by his side, the other pressed to Adachi’s shoulder, caught halfway between gripping tightly and pushing him away. He can’t stop Adachi now - he’s close, so close, and his hips are twitching as he pushes himself just a little more against the man’s hand out of pure instinct - but he’s suddenly feeling the heavy erection pressed against his thigh, and he’s afraid of what’s going to happen next if he doesn’t -
It’s too late. His mouth falls open and he sobs out a tangled noise of relief and ecstasy as he comes over them both, dripping down Adachi’s hand and the front of their clothes. Adachi’s kissing his cheek tenderly, whispering soothing words in his ear as he gasps for breath and struggles to make his limbs move.
“There now … wasn’t so bad, was it?” Adachi’s moving him, dragging him across the room and laying him down on the table with his legs dangling off the edge. Yosuke can focus now - it’s wearing off (oh my god he drugged me!) and he can move his arms, albeit clumsily.
“Why’re you…” Yosuke winces. His head is still pounding. “Adachi-san…”
“Shhh…” Adachi whispers, smiling as he leans down over him. “You might want to stay relaxed.” And then he’s touching Yosuke again, fingers sliding over his softening dick and wiping up his ejaculate, and Yosuke inhales sharply as the intensely alien feeling of slick fingers pushing inside of him fills his senses. He’s flooded with that feeling of dread once more as he thinks about Adachi, hard and pressed up against him, and he squirms as best he can to prevent what’s going to happen.
“No…” He pushes as hard as his feeble arms will allow, but Adachi bats them away carelessly. “Adachi-san, please … please stop…”
Adachi ignores him, runs a hand through his hair soothingly, crooks his fingers inside Yosuke at just the right angle to make him arch his back and cry out -
Yosuke’s hand lashes at him, and his fingers catch Adachi’s eye. The detective yelps in pain and stumbles back until he crashes into the TV, and Yosuke struggles to sit up, praying to god it was enough of a distraction that he can get to the door and call for help -
His blood runs cold. Adachi is braced against the TV stand, one hand on the wooden cart, the other on the bottom edge of the TV. His elbow sinks back into the screen, engulfed in a white-and-black swirl. Yosuke’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He knows the look of shock is apparent on his face from the way Adachi is smirking at him, but it takes another few seconds for him to realize exactly how terrible a mistake that is.
“Whoops,” says Adachi, and the tone of his voice is low, predatory, dangerous. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
-the killer. He’s the killer. It’s him. It’s him. His brain was making all the necessary leaps of logic for him, without him having to think about it. All the anger Yosuke imagined he would feel upon facing the murderer they’d been chasing was gone now, completely erased and taken over by fear. He’s not supposed to be alone. He’s supposed to have Souji here with him, and Chie, and Yukiko, and Teddie, and -
Adachi’s on him in another second, and his cry for help is smothered by a strong hand.
“Oh, sweet, stupid Hanamura,” Adachi sighs. His other hand is yanking Yosuke’s pants all the way down off his hips, and the boy twists and struggles beneath him. “I was really only doing this to fuck with your Leader a little, but now you’ve gone and seen something you shouldn’t have."
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“I see how it is,” Adachi grumbles. “You got what you wanted, and screw what I want, right? You little bitch. You’re no better than those other whores…”
Saki-senpai. Yamano. Yosuke’s eyes fly open and the anger comes to him, but he’s powerless to act on it, and the realization drives a spike of despair deep into his heart.
Adachi leans down close to him, stretches his body out over Yosuke’s, and whispers in his ear: “Now would be a good time to start thinking about Souji-kun.” And he pushes into Yosuke so hard that not even his hand can hold back his scream.
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There’s a package for Souji the next day, brought to the Dojima residence by a new delivery man who was undoubtedly replacing the one he and his friends had recently murdered. He stumbles downstairs in a daze, opens the door, signs for it carelessly, and takes it inside with him. It’s small. There’s no styrofoam inside, just a single object clattering around when he shakes it. It’s sealed tightly, but the packing tape gives way easily beneath a kitchen knife, and the box pops open in his hands.
A pair of headphones is inside. Orange, like Yosuke’s. Souji slowly removes them from the box, runs his fingers over the smooth plastic and - something else. Something dark and crusty that flakes off at his touch and stains his skin red, and it takes another second for the overwhelming smell of copper to reach him and set off alarm bells.
No.
There’s a sheet of paper wrapped around the headpiece. No, no. Shaking, he tears it off, opens it, and swears aloud in a choked voice before his blurry eyes have even finished scanning the single line:
now his blood is on your hands too
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This was everything I wanted and more. *Sigh* Job well done, anon!! *Heart xinfinite*
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I was thinking about this today, actually...o_O And I got the idea in my head that the gang went into the TV world to find Yosuke and ended up in Magatsu Inaba, where they found him dangling upside down from a telephone pole (or something) and tied up in police tape...And dripping blood with the occasional broken limb and all that goodness one normally finds from staring up at a dead body hanging over them...
Oh, I'm so weird, please shoot me. XD
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Good question! This story gave me such a girl-boner, it's not even funny. Adachi is a vile piece of human garbage and yet I love his character doing terrible things to everyone OTL
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