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murdercrumb · 1 year

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hi crumb would you write some Goro praise kink? Maybe some hair pulling?

xoxo Heather

idol goro + hairdresser akira <3

goro akechi is beautiful.

he could be a model if the idol business goes down the drain. akira can’t imagine a world where he isn’t loved by all. he can’t imagine a world where akechi doesn’t excel at everything—acting, singing, dancing, you name it. he can’t imagine that smile hidden away in the shadows.

he wears that mask so well.

it’s not like akira is super close with akechi—he’s just a hairdresser after all. but he likes to believe he knows akechi better than those fans who faint in the front row of his interviews. akechi’s snarky—he’s aloof, he’s a realist, he has a dry sense of humor. sure, it could be yet another mask. but it’s one akira likes infinitely more.

akechi has to be ready to shoot a scene in an hour and a half. it’s some new drama show he’s the star of—the first season; he has to make a good impression. a mask on top of a mask.

akira finds himself alone with the star after the makeup department has been cleared out of the dressing room. it’s impractical, but akechi always likes to have his hair done last.

“you saw it, didn’t you?” the brunette asks akira’s reflection. the bags beneath his eyes have vanished beneath the makeup. he still looks exhausted. “don’t pretend you haven’t. i’m sick of everyone dancing around it—like– like i’m something fragile.”

akira did see it. it being some tabloid gossip about the upcoming drama series, some article about goro akechi taking on a serious, grown-up role. they don’t think he can handle it. they claim he’s a child star. they told him to stick to twirling in a skirt on stage.

akira shakes his head. “it’s all garbage.”

he runs a brush through akechi’s hair, smoothing out the nonexistent tangles. akechi doesn’t seem convinced.

“it’s a common opinion. you saw the comments. they were all in agreement.”

“only shitheads read that stuff.”

“the world is full of shitheads!” he cries. “am i expected to dumb myself down for them? am i not allowed to mature beyond what their monkey brains can handle?!”

akira can’t resist a small smile. only goro akechi would use the term monkey brains while pissed off.

“think of it like free promotion,” he soothes, wetting a comb before tending to goro’s locks. “what better way to generate buzz than to prove those idiots wrong?”

akechi’s lips twist. “you think i can?”

“i know you can. i’ve seen you on set, akechi. i’ve seen you become your character—it’s amazing. it’s magical.”

akechi stares at akira’s reflection. his frown has morphed into a thin line.

“goro.”

“hm?”

“call me goro.”

like a field of blossoms in the springtime, akira’s heart blooms.

“you’re amazing, goro.”

goro flushes a deep red, twice as bright as the blush applied by the makeup department, infinite times as beautiful.

“...i’m glad i still have one fan remaining.”

“always.”

akira turns goro in his chair so his back is facing the sink. he has to wash goro’s hair before styling it, but they have all the time in the world.

he wets his locks with warm water, turning the golden shade to a deep brunette. “what’s not to be a fan of?” he massages a handful of shampoo into goro's scalp. “you’re smart.” he drags his fingers down to the base of his neck. “you’re talented.” he tilts goro’s head back, forcing him to meet akira’s gaze directly above him. “you’re beautiful.”

goro’s lip quivers with a heavy breath.

“you’re just saying that.”

“the truth?” akira turns on the sink to rinse out the shampoo. the sound of running water doesn’t allow goro the chance to argue.

akira flips off the faucet.

“you’re so good at what you do. on and off the stage. you’re so good, goro.”

goro shivers when akira’s hands return to his hair, coating his locks with smooth conditioner.

“say it again.”

his voice is barely above a whisper.

“you’re amazing.” a hitched breath. “you’re beautiful, with and without makeup. you’re like an angel.” a nod. “your voice is beautiful. and your laugh—not your stage laugh, your real laugh… i’d do anything to hear that sound.”

a snort. “that ugly thing?”

“you’re perfect, just the way you are.” the sincerity in his voice is shocking, even to akira. “so good, goro.” he strengthens his grip in goro’s hair and pulls him back, akira’s lips brushing the shell of his ear. “you’re so good for me.”

a whimper.

he turns on the faucet as he rinses out the conditioner.

and if akira is a little rougher than usual while styling goro's hair, he's never told to stop.

#this is sfw but akira definitely makes a mental note for later :3 #crumblr

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murdercrumb · 1 year

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not sure what your landmines are but sae's cognitive goro + shido's cognitive goro something something turbo virgin meets turbo whore something something akira gets gorohole

NINAKE IS ALWAYS WELCOME AROUND HERE, ANON!!!

cw: ninake (aka goro selfcest), voyeurism, sae’s coggoro has a pussy

joker swears this place must be hell. what was originally a normal christmas eve has dissolved into a nightmare, the depths of mementos an endless path of sorrows.

every palace leader they’ve fought and defeated—they’re all here. the cognition of the masses are here, locked in a tower of infinite jail cells, lamenting about their desire to be controlled. it was a difficult sight to come to terms with. continuing through a hidden path, however, they begin a journey even harder to swallow.

“shiho!” panther runs to her best friend, her eyes wild with fear when she’s met with a golden stare. shiho is dressed in that outfit from the pervert’s palace, bunny ears on her head, volleyball in hand. kamoshida’s cognition. skull frets over mishima’s clone beside her.

noir and queen rush over to an alien version of haru. okumura’s cognition of his daughter. oracle and mona approach the bird with wakaba’s face, fox rushes over to madarame’s cognition of his classmate. every cognition birthed in those fallen palaces, they’re all here too.

without his team behind him, joker continues on. he passes multiple cognitions he hadn’t noticed while exploring each distortion—futaba’s version of sojiro, kamoshida’s twisted copies of shujin staff. kaneshiro’s underlings, madarame’s students. sae’s cognition of akira, the stunt double shot in the police station last month. there’s no bullet wound between his eyes. there’s no blood dripping down his face. it’s just akira.

moving through a narrow hallway, joker passes less and less cognitive doubles. he eventually reaches a point of total solitude, yet the hallway stretches on. does he dare keep going? what could be waiting at the end? a trap?

craning his head around, he can’t even see his friends anymore—

“you’re looking for a good time, aren’t you~?”

joker startles at the voice. he finds nothing in the surrounding vicinity. the voice wasn’t talking to him.

“don’t touch me.”

“you’re a shy one, hm? is that why you came looking for me~?”

“a headache like you is the last thing i want to deal with.”

joker glances around before warily following the voices. the hallway is a long journey of nothingness, but the bickering grows louder with every passing step;

“so cruel. can’t you do better things with that mouth?”

“do you ever shut up?

“you could make me~”

the voices sound familiar, yet not familiar at all. too foreign for akira to place.

“i have numerous methods of silencing inconveniences.”

it’s an emotionless threat, a monotonous drawl, robotic.

“there’s no weapons here. ah… unless that’s a gun in your pocket?”

it’s a desperate attempt at flirting, giggly and slutty. like someone downed a glass of liquor when they’re far too young to be drinking.

“i’m not entirely sure what you’re referring to.”

“perhaps i should teach you~”

joker reaches a dead end at the edge of the hallway, a small room tucked into the side wall. what he sees inside has his heart stopping in his chest; it has his blood running cold.

the floors are dark grey like the rest of mementos’s depths, red streaks running through the walls like severed veins. a single table sits in the center of the room—if it can even be called that. a grey cube and a grey rectangle acting as a bench. the decor isn’t what has joker’s eyes bulging beneath his mask, no. it’s the two cognitions within the room.

i never thought i’d see him again.

there’s something off about the both of them. it’s been less than a month—joker wouldn’t forget his face so easily. he knows his eyes weren’t this soulless; nor were they glistening with such saccharine innocence. his frown was never so slim; his smile was never so wanton. it’s not him. neither are him.

still, joker recognizes both of them.

the one sitting on the bench wears akechi’s winter uniform. he’s a little broader than joker remembers, a little taller. his gaze is completely blank. he wears the face joker saw before akechi shot the bulkhead door shut. the face of a killer. the face he sees in his nightmares.

the one sitting on his lap looks like a wet dream.

his sultry eyes and giddy smile are unfamiliar to joker, but he can only assume this is sae’s cognition of akechi. the casino bunny costume... it’s something the real akechi would never wear. a black leotard and a white collar, a tiny black tie laid over his creamy chest. a bunny ear headband sits atop his head, and his long legs are laced in a pair of fishnets, thrown across his counterpart’s thighs.

they’re complete opposites. both are nothing like akechi.

still, joker watches. it’s the closest he’ll ever get.

“what could you possibly teach me with that vapid, rotten brain of yours?”

it’s so clearly shido’s projection of akechi. joker can easily imagine those words spilling from shido’s drunken mouth. all that’s missing is a hissed brat at the end.

it would make joker sick if it wasn’t akechi’s voice. it’s emotionless, it’s cold and dead, but it’s his voice nonetheless.

“we can start with the basics.”

and the casino bunny… it makes joker wonder what the hell akechi was doing in that prosecutor’s office...

“what are you—”

“shh, accept my guidance. i promise to make it worth your while.”

the casino bunny prods at the crotch of his double, giggling when his breath comes out hitched and ragged.

“you like that, hm?”

...akechi must’ve been shaking his ass all over that office to make sae view him like this.

“don’t you dare—”

“you’re getting worked up already~”

“you won’t humiliate me—”

unzipping his uniform pants, the casino bunny makes a happy sound unveiling the puppet’s cock. joker resists the urge to laugh.

“you’re getting so big. how cute~”

the puppet is about average size, a decent handful in the bunny’s fist. still, it’s bigger than the real akechi’s cock, comically so. the glimpse of his small size in the bathhouse made akira’s heart swell all those months ago. it was more of a clit than anything that could function as a cock: pink and dainty, clean-shaven and adorably soft as he climbed into the water. akira was smitten from just a glance. he can only imagine how sensitive it must be.

“i’m not cute. stop treating me like a damn child.”

the puppet is starting to get frustrated, its expressionless face morphing with rage. joker remembers this from shido’s ship—when the cognition’s face stretched into something terrifying. something inhuman, features only a doll could possess.

“deny all you want. you’re so desperate—you’re throbbing just for me~”

“you’ll regret those words—”

“on the contrary.”

the casino bunny reaches for the puppet’s hand, bringing it to the thin stretch of leotard between his legs.

“feel how excited i am?”

“as expected. you’re nothing more than a dirty whore.”

“but so are you.”

“you truly are worthless.”

“i believe you can find some value in my presence.”

this is sae’s cognition? the same cognition the thieves tied up while akira was sitting in that interrogation room? while he was drugged and beaten?

the casino bunny grinds against the puppet’s fingers.

joker is so…

the bunny reaches between his legs, searching for the button holding his leotard together.

so…

it comes undone with a deafening snap.

so…

the bunny tears his fishnets apart, revealing the pretty, glistening pussy he was hiding underneath.

he is so jealous.

“see how wet i am?” he climbs over the puppet’s lap, hovering just above his leaking cock. weirdly, he straddles his thighs in reverse. facing the door, like he knows joker’s watching. “you’ll take care of me, yes?”

if joker had been the one tying him up—if he had this cognition in his grasp, lord knows he couldn’t control himself.

“i’ll deal with you. you’ll know better than to open that mouth of yours.”

the puppet squeezes his eyes shut when the bunny sinks down.

it wouldn’t have mattered if joker was alone or not—if he had a friend or his entire team at his side. one glance at that cognition—akechi’s glittering eyes and blushing cheeks, his ample chest and luscious thighs; back when joker could look at akechi’s face and feel anything but grief—he would’ve torn off his clothes and fucked him on that dirty police station floor. he would’ve filled his pussy without a second thought, pounding him until the real akechi came looking for akira, when he couldn’t figure out why his target wasn’t in position.

“are you planning to teach me a lesson~?” the bunny purrs while he bounces in his double’s lap. his pussy looks so cute stretched around the puppet’s cock—he’d look even better taking something bigger. he deserves something bigger.

the puppet finds a strong grip on the bunny’s hips. cruel. possessive.

“you want to be treated like a whore?”

the bunny nods frantically, as fast as his ass springs up and down in the puppet’s lap.

“i’ll treat you like one.”

the puppet barrels into a brutal pace, hard and fast, sending the bunny into a series of broken moans. it’s wet and loud—the puppet’s cock pistoning into the bunny’s pussy. joker wouldn’t be surprised if the other thieves can hear it.

joker fucks into his fist just as quickly.

he would’ve taken the puppet too. if he found him wandering the halls of shido’s ship. he’s a near exact replica of what akechi once was; the empty eyes being the only inaccuracy. joker wouldn’t have looked at them anyway. he would’ve bent him over and fucked him against the boat’s railing—against the nearest desk or wall, the captain’s damn helm if he had to. he’d make the puppet pay for what he did to his goro. he’d meld him to the shape of his cock, he’d make the puppet suck him off until his mouth was stained with cum.

“c-close! don’t stop!”

so what if his insides are as cold as his heart? joker can warm him up.

“take it. take it—”

the bunny shakes when he comes, his legs thrashing, his chest shuddering, his eyes rolling back with a high-pitched cry. it’s beautiful. it’s just as beautiful when the puppet finishes behind him, whimpering as his head rolls onto the bunny’s shoulder.

joker strokes his cock at a frenzied pace—

“oh, joker~”

freezing his movements, joker sees the bunny standing beside the puppet when he looks up. cum drips steadily down the bunny’s thighs, but he looks perfectly polished compared to the wreck of his lookalike. they both stare right at joker.

“uh. hi ladies.”

“i’m so glad we could put on a show for you,” the bunny purrs. “but i think he needs the full experience for his first time, wouldn’t you say?”

the bunny reaches down, spreading the puppet’s thighs apart to show off his hole. his slacks must’ve slid off during the festivities.

for a soulless, lifeless puppet, the cognition blushes bright red.

“what do you say?” the bunny prods, “help us out?”

and, well. it’s a good thing cognitions don’t need lube, because joker dives right in.

he breaks in two pretty dolls that day.

#so when i said i got carried away before...#now i REALLY got carried away #ninake #sex sex sex sex plap plap plap plap #crumblr

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