#backstage sin

[emmieswildside]

[foursaints]

what did you think of ttpd!! we gotta know

[good-beanswrites]

Same Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins anon here (you know if I'm gonna keep sending anon asks because of ideas, I need a shorter name...) Glad they're getting time to cool off on what happened during the trial. This project is hard on them all QvQ

Okay another thought! While working on the Trial 2 MVs, you think the prisoners get to watch everyone's first MVs? Like, maybe praise how each video looks ("Oh my gosh, Amane you look amazing!"), making comments with Jackalope's artistic choices (Shidou's flower mummy) and how stiff some of the prisoners look ("Fuuta you're walking like a tinman." "Shut up!"), some singing along to songs they've overheard earlier (Kotoko singing Weakness), and...er...shirtless Mikoto ("Amane don't look!"). Idk, this makes their filming for the next MVs sound more fun as they hang out.

Hello again!! omg Thank You for sharing once again, I’m obsessed with that 🥺🥺🥺 That's so wonderful picturing a little movie night... (And yes, feel free to pick a name :D else I will dub thee 🎬 next time given the theme lmao)

Okay so my original idea was that those first videos were actually watched on the down-low. There were a few days of nothing going on while the prisoners debriefed, made plans, and communicated their song ideas to the writers to start working with. (Minor detail but I think they’re cut off from the world still, no internet access though they can exchange a few messages/visits with family). They do, however, get access to the others’ T1 videos on their phones/ facility computers. Everyone gave permission to watch them, but there’s a bit of hesitancy. They haven’t started filming their new videos yet, so no one has gotten a look that deep into anyone else’s hearts. Just because they’re closer in this au doesn’t make them better communicators -- there’s still a lot that’s been left unsaid regarding near-murders and their true selves. So they only watch them in secret out of respect.

Haruka hides under the covers to watch After Pain on loop late into the night (going “she’s just like me fr”). Fuuta doesn’t care much for the others’ songs but tries to decipher the crimes as best as he can. He probably gets one stuck in his head the next few days that he finds really embarrassing. Mahiru gets very emotional over the other lovers, doing a poor job of hiding her sympathy toward Yuno, Shidou, and Kazui in the following days. Kazui is embarrassed to watch Throw Down so often, but Shidou is such a subtle man and it’s nice to see a more open side to him (who admits to lying as well). Amane takes a while to watch them -- they’re videos supporting murder and sin, after all -- but once she convinces herself it’s to help the experiment, she allows herself to enjoy  them. Kotoko does the same as Fuuta but jumps straight into Fandom Mode and starts taking notes and analyzing the others’ videos. She keeps a secret folder on her phone of theories and symbolism and screenshots for reference. 

HOWEVER

You have opened my eyes to Milgram Movie Night 👁️👁️

Everyone realizes they’re going to need to get comfortable with a lot of personal info really quickly, since T2 filming starts in a few days. Rather than Jackalope’s suggestion of undergoing a painful group circle talk, they go with Mikoto’s idea to all sit down to watch the videos together. This keeps the atmosphere up while they watch, allowing for many compliments and encouragement. It also lets the singer defend things in their video if they see fit, though most let it speak for itself. (Fuuta: “ah, back when I was a menace online.” “You’re still like that Fuuta.” “I’m a changed man!” “You got one guilty verdict and nothing’s even happened yet.”)

I love all of those reactions so much ahhhh! Amane getting showered in compliments like she deserves. Honestly, all of them getting showered in complements because it's what they deserve ;-; Playful teasing getting thrown around for everyone. Not even Jackalope is safe from their heckling (see: Throw Down flower person), and he's not even there to defend himself. There’s lots of blushing and eye covering during MeMe. And a singalong aspect!! I don’t know I didn’t think to incorporate that into the fic so far -- there’s nothing quite like heckling your friend onstage by echoing their lines really loud from the wings asdfsdfsd. Mikoto recognizes the video game from Fuuta’s and makes his whole day. Mahiru and Shidou realize they have both flowers and food in common, and get to talking. All at once, everything clicks into place for why Amane hated Shidou him so much.

I'm also realizing Kazui would have a Moment TM while seeing all the prisoners talking so comfortably about their deepest selves and struggles. I don't think he'd break down and open up just yet, but I bet it's be a pretty big change of heart for him to see such honesty/vulnerability...

Plus, most of my original ideas can still stand after the fact! There's no shame in seeing too much personal info about another prisoner, the only shame comes from just how many time the video was looped in private lmao

[ollywears]

Olly Alexander wearing an A.A. Spectrum A/W 2021 Powder Blue Techton zip hoodie in a photo by Ben Gibson backstage at Kylie Minogue’s Secret Sessions show (December 1, 2021).

[fizzarollitm]

.I have such a soft spot for Fizzy interacting with other lords. Hes a lil capitalist and loves power and he is dying to cut a good deal or even a mediocre one. He loves legalese (lowkey Ozzie has probably had him reading his contracts for the last ten years so thank god Stolas was there when he got kidnapped) and is such a thorn in the side too. He'll suave and schmooze his way for a good deal and when people try to volley with him it's like a whole other side.

[angel-dust-addict]

//Mentioning again that I have a new Angel blog! Don't worry, Powder's not going anywhere. Glitter is sort of an experiment. He's going to be single-verse with a forward-moving linear narrative. This means all interactions will be part of his timeline. Every interaction and event becomes part of his individual canon history. He's still multiship, as he's poly, but those relationships (when and if they develop) will also all be in the same timeline. I will write with multiple versions of a character, but shipping will most likely be limited to one version of each character.

Glitter will also be running several IC social media accounts. He has a Voxtagram and an OnlyFangs, but he has yet to post anything on them. His Vitter has been quite active, though. As such, he's definitely game for interactions with muses being run as exclusively online presences.

If Glitter sounds interesting to you, you can find him on @glitterandlust.

[transintellectualistic]

Everyone please look at Shrimp’s source’s wiki page and tell me that this man’s existence and role in our brain is not the funniest shit ever.

Source: Megalomaniac. War criminal. Cult leader. Mad scientist with a god complex. His misdeeds could fill a novel and his blind lust for power, self-gratification and total dominion over all that breathes have doomed billions to live lives in suffering and squalor. Mortal enemy and personal tormentor of basically any remotely important character in the game. Huge fucking incel.

System: Literally just some office worker. His worst crimes are trying to give us a caffeine addiction and spending way too much time writing spreadsheets. I’d say he needs Ritalin but honestly, he is the Ritalin. Give this man a vacation, god. Also very, very aroace.

Source’s relationship to Source!Nelum: Toxic. Manipulative. Maddeningly horny. Every facet of her identity has been shaped by his calculated decisions over millennia, all made with striking precision just so he could be with the one person he thought would love him unconditionally. There is an entire 6-hour-long narrative quest dedicated to his final Hail Mary attempt at making her his and the near-destruction of the solar system that results in the aftermath.

System’s relationship to Nelum: Yeah they’re buddies. They’re pals. No hard feelings here. If we had a proper headspace they’d go golfing together. There’s not even anything romantic going on they’re just chill colleagues. Again, extreme aroaceness going on in both sides of the equation here!

HE NAMED HIMSELF SHRIMP. LIKE TJE FUCKING CRUSTACEAN

^ “remember this is who you’re being mean to when you’re making fun of me” type of shit

(I love you Shrimp I wouldn’t have you any other way <3)

[crankitupswe]

Liv Sin - Backstage Rockbar, Trollhättan (2023-04-14)

Liv Sin - Backstage Rockbar, Trollhättan (2023-04-14) @BackstageTHN @livsin

[misskingshit]

𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘵 summary: where he has an interest in a certain pop singer, and he doesn't try to hide it. note: believe me or not i’ve been listening hip hop since Im like 15 y/o, soooo why not do an M&M’s fic?? Let me know if u want part 2! xoxo

The lyrics of Mr Eminem's new song being mostly about you? That was something you definitely didn't expect.

I get so weak on my knees

Lose all control

Damn, her silhouette

So hot

Fuck bein’ a gentleman

I'm going to fuck her instead

The red carpet at the Grammys has always been a dream for you, you had already won a couple of awards, today... you were excited to be the presenter of one of them.

Best Rap Album.

To say you were excited is an understatement.

You've loved this genre of music since you were a teenager, Tupac, Fifty, Snoop...to name the most classics.

The camera flashes were the only thing you saw, accompanied by many voices that stunned your ears just by hearing your name.

"Y/N! over here!" A reporter called you, without hesitation, you approached.

"Hey how are you?" you asked with a big smile.

"Incredible! How are you? I imagine you're very excited for tonight" he smiles.

"Don't even mention it! I can't wait to call the winner on stage!"

"Do you think Eminem is nominated? He's been on everyone's mouth lately with his latest song..."

Here we go.

"Yeah... well, I'm sure he'll be nominated, I mean, he's fucking Eminem, it would be like a sin if he wasn't, right?" You laughed a little awkwardly.

"What do you think about his last song, about his comments towards you? 50% of people are upset calling Eminem a degenerate..." you didn't let him finish speaking.

"Well...I really like him, I mean, I've always been his fan and it's an honor to be named in one of his songs. Plus I also think that...we all know how he's like, if you don't like his way to be, to think, to speak, the lyrics of his songs, just don't listen to it and that's it, problem solved, I don’t see the point in hating so much on something you can just...ignore" you laugh looking at the camera "Just take things more lightly, not everything is fighting and bad intentions."

You finished your conversation with said reporter and simply headed to your designated seat.

On the other hand, a certain blonde boy was also being attacked with questions regarding his controversial lyrics.

"She's here? Shit, I want to see her," the blonde rapper said, showing a small, very small, smile, turning his head around with the intention of catching some sign of the hot pop singer, you.

"Yes! In fact she will be the one to present the award for best rap album!"

"No shit! Damn man she's here" Em turned around and said to his best friend, Proof.

In a few minutes everyone finished settling into their seats and you both were surprised when you looked at each other, just a few seats away.

You were five seats to the right and three to the back, so you caught him every time he turned his head back a little to look and smile at you.

Until, soon...your moment had arrived, you got up from your seat to head backstage.

By the way, when you walked past the rapper, he didn't try to hide the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off you for even a second.

"And the Grammy goes to..." you created some tension "EMINEN!" You blurted out the name more excited than you should have.

The rapper's reaction might not have been very expressive normally, but he couldn't contain his smile when he knew who would be the one giving to him his award. The rapper and his friends got on stage and it was inevitable that you felt nervous as you watched him walk towards you, with a playful look, as if he knew what he generated in you.

"Congratulations," you whispered when he was close enough to you, taking the grammy as you felt the soft brush of his fingers against yours, he did it on purpose.

You didn't expect him to give you a hug.

"That's all I get?" He whispered back to you, keeping your faces close and your noses touching, his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him as if he didn't want to move away from you.

A great bustle from the public was heard, and it took them both out of the small cloud in which they were.

This was definitely going to stir the waters.

You both walked away, while you greeted and congratulated the rest of his friends (Proof winking at you in the process).

"Wow, shit, this is crazy, thank you so much to everyone who made the production of this album possible, Dr Dre, who always had my back, I will be forever grateful...and my god, damn, thanks to whoever the fuck is that put this beauty in that dress..." he turned to look at you and winked "Y/N Y/L/N ladies and gentlemen, the source of my inspiration for Heat Seeker"

Obviously, you blushed.

The entire audience was applauding, probably already starting to gossip among themselves about the little show between you and Eminem.

Like a gentleman he offered you his hand as he watched you walk down the steps of the stage with great caution. "Thank you," you whispered. “Any time” he smiles at you.

´Til the end of the awards you continued to connect glances from time to time, you also noticed how his friends bothered him every time he turned his head to look at you.

"Hey, Y/N! wait!" listen to yourself behind your back. "Hey," you looked at him softly, "whats up?" He shook his head quickly. "I just wanted to…I mean, normally I wouldn't give a shit, but, I wanted to make sure that the song didn't offend you, it wasn't to upset you…" You interrupted his attempt to apologies "Don't worry, I understand it was just the song, I didn't take it personally, actually, I loved it" you laughed. "You did? I'm glad you're not like the rest and laugh instead of being offended." His attempt to hide his smile failed completely.

It just slips away from him.

Just with you.

A few seconds of silence took over the situation, though it wasn't uncomfortable, your eyes connected and you didn't seem to realize that you had been staring at each other. "Uhm, I was about to go to my hotel," you pointed behind you, "I was gonna change for the afterparty."

"Can I go with you?" He asked you, but before you processed the fact that he wanted to go with you to your hotel, he interrupted your thoughts "I mean, just so then we can go to the party together, if you want" he scratched the back of his neck.

You didn't even need to think about it "Yeah, I would like that" you smiled.

The two of you walked together towards your limo, captured by several cameras, so neither of you doubted that tomorrow you would wake up to a bunch of articles about how Eminem and Y/N left the Grammy's together. But none of you care about it.

[comatosebunny09]

preface [ un ] | sylus

summary: he reluctantly agreed to let you be bait. ‘you’ll be fine,’ he tells himself. you always are, more than capable of holding your own. you wouldn’t be his ace otherwise. his jaw tenses. doesn’t make him worry any less. he just needs you to hold out a little bit longer until he can get to you. and hopefully, the other girls they’d taken from their families are with you, too.

warning(s): alcohol use, adult themes, profanity, kidnapping, mild violence

now playing: champagne cool - jackson wang

tagging: @athanasia-day @falon-fen @queen-serena88 @karespocketboyfriends @mrswanel @readerxyourfave @world-of-hearts @sunsets-and-crows @antonneva

notes: preface for limerence. | part 2

He doesn’t like to share.

He’s slowly coming to terms with that fact. Not that you’re property. A snack he’s meant to go halfsies with on the playground. But he won’t deny seeing you ride the mechanical bull like that with all those people watching. Well…

It does something to him.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sighs for the umpteenth time, the six screens meshed together in the security room of his penthouse flashing over his features. You’re having a good time. Doing your thing, riding it like it’s no one’s business. Garnering the attention of almost everyone in his club like you always do.

Bull be damned.

He’d bought the damn thing at your behest. You were so cute about it. Pushed your chest against his bicep, squeezed his hand, gave him those beseeching eyes. A farce you put on to get your way. But Sylus and the twins knew better. Knew what truly lurked beneath that glitter and glam. Yet he still fell for it.

He always does.

You reasoned the bull would be a nice add-on. Something to dress up Lux’s so-called drab decor. And sure, it was an interesting addition. A contrast of cowhide and worn colors amid the lush, crimson curtains framing the stage and gilded columns stretching high towards a yawning ceiling. In your words, it was meant to bring in new clientele and keep regulars coming back. Something to expose the seedy underbelly of the city. Lure out his enemies. After all, who could resist a pretty thing like you on a bull? 

Lux is one of Sylus’ many business ventures. A posh little club settled in the city’s heart where innocents and lowlifes frequent alike. Most come for the atmosphere, the unrivaled drinks, and the pretty dancers. Some stay for the promise of something more intimate. Backstage performances, one-on-ones with the lavish women who work there. 

Too bad some of the people who come seeking respite never check out. 

He’s hauled back to the present by cheers of varying degrees. Whistling and not-so-innocent words hurled at the stage. All at you. 

Sylus pitches himself forward to perch sturdy hands on his desk. Shakes his head, exasperation inhabiting his person. 

You’re giving everyone a show of your chest—boasted by the tight costume he had custom made for you—when you lean back like that, your spine level with the saddle. Smile sultry and bleeding sin. He swears he catches you winking at him, thoroughly aware of the many cameras littering his club. 

You’ll be the death of him one day. He’s sure of it. 

He taps the earpiece nestled in his ear. Prepares to lecture you for showboating like that. You’re laying it on too thick tonight. And he feels like a concerned dad about to scold his daughter for wearing something that bears too much skin. But before he can fix his mouth to reprimand you, the whisper of an errant breeze catches his attention.

He cants his head. Doesn’t have to look to know Luke is there behind him, haloed by the shadows. Bowed slightly at the hip with a fist pressed to his chest in greeting. 

“Speak,” Sylus orders, his voice rough with disuse. He pushes down the vexation fizzling in his veins. 

“He’s here, boss,” Luke states.

It’s a simple enmeshment of words, yet it’s enough to shift the atmosphere of the security room just the slightest. Sylus’ jaw tenses, the tendons in his neck flexing. His nostrils flare, and he pushes off the polished oakwood to stuff his hands in his pockets.

The real reason why you’re peacocking about like this has just arrived. And Sylus feels his hackles raise, his lips twitching with an impulse to scowl. The tendrils of his Evol threaten to make themselves known, but he tamps down his quiet rage, trading it for level-headedness. It won’t do him any good to lose his cool now. Not until he’s extracted all the information he needs to make his move tonight.

Sparing a final look at the CCTV footage, he appears composed as he snatches his coat from his leather rolling chair. Drapes it over his shoulders in customary fashion, stepping past his subordinate. Kieran appears at his side as if summoned from thought alone, never missing a beat.

“Keep an eye on her,” commands Sylus over his shoulder to the other twin. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything…reckless.” 

Luke complies with a curt bow before the door of the security room clicks shut. Left to his own devices, Luke chuckles. Rubs the chin of his mask in thought, studying the blue flicker of the various screens, all displaying you.

“More reckless than usual?” he quietly queries, amusement surfing in the undernotes of his voice.

—

Sylus is a businessman through and through. He built his empire granting favors, trading weapons, and other nefarious deeds. Despite how much he radiates murderous intent, he’s cordial as he shakes his guest’s hand. Dons a foolhardy grin, motioning for the man to sit across from him in his private office.

The gentleman’s bodyguards flank him when he takes his seat. Four of them standing in good form behind him, their bodies taut with the need to shoot if necessary. All for little old Sylus?

Sylus sits back in his plush, red leather seat. Crosses his legs, tapping his fingers together. Kieran stands not too far off behind him. All the muscle he needs. “Mister Fate,” Sylus acknowledges, finding it too easy to fall into such an affable role. He’s done this too many times. “It’s been too long.”

The man seated across cracks a smile. The years haven’t been kind to him, wrinkles and sunspots littering his face. “It has,” Fate agrees, twining his fingers in his lap. He hides his intent behind dark lenses. But Sylus already knows what’s genuinely driven him here to his club. Knows what lurks beneath that amiable mask of his.

“Can I offer you a drink?” asks Sylus, ever the trained actor. By the time he’s finished asking, Mister Fate’s attention is elsewhere, focused on the ceiling-high, one-way glass window beside them. A knowing smirk crooks Sylus’ lips. 

Beyond the window stretches his club below. Bodies writhing, merriment filling the air. And then there’s you, the focal point of the stage. Standing on the bull like a surfboard, that pretty smile canting your lips as you tilt your hat. You make it look so easy. His office is soundproof and shrouded in dim lighting. But he knows you’re dancing to your favorite song, basking in the attention. The limelight. 

Serving as the perfect distraction. 

And Mister Fate’s hooked. Tugs on the round of his tie, his mouth growing dry. He can’t look away, taken by your beauty and charm. You always play your role to a T. The pretty femme fatale that everyone wants a chance with but is rarely awarded your time. Your attention. 

Not like Sylus. 

And he doesn’t know what’s washing over him when his fingers twitch on the armchair, and his brow ticks towards his hairline. But he suddenly doesn’t like how Fate’s watching you like a prime cut of meat waiting to be seared and consumed. Had it been any of the others, would he still feel so defensive? “Mister Fate,” Sylus tries again after clearing his throat.

The gentleman in question finally tears his ironclad stare away from the window to look at Sylus. Like he’s been caught doing something naughty. It’s normal to stare. Sylus sometimes finds himself, too, falling prey to your allure.

Sylus motions to a whiskey decanter and two glasses on the coffee table before them. “Can I interest you in a drink? Something to wet your whistle?”

“Y-Yes, of course,” the aging man replies, bringing a shaky hand to his face to stroke his mustache. It’s comical how sweat collects on his forehead and between the thin hairs bordering his lip. You really are something dangerous, aren’t you?

“Such a beautiful girl,” Fate notes, more-so to himself whilst the slosh of viscous fluid poured into a glass fills the quieted room. Sylus slides the man his drink, and he’s not at all surprised to find him peering out the window again. “A very lovely girl.” He speaks as if he’s in a trance. Fallen prey to your spell, just like Sylus knew he would.

Sylus raises his glass to the man to toast but to no avail. He’s found what he’s looking for. And you’ve served your part well. And Sylus most certainly does not bristle as he leans back in his seat, dumping the contents of his glass down his throat, the acrid sting serving to ground him.

“Mister Fate,” he tries again, attempting to redirect the subject. He’s becoming increasingly sensitive when it comes to you these days. Doesn’t know why the thought of you makes his chest pull where before, you were something of convenience. 

There’s amusement in Sylus’ voice as he puts back up that arrogant front. “Did you come here just to ogle my dancers, or are we going to get down to business?”

Fate, as if remembering himself, quickly wipes his mouth after taking a sip. Sets his glass down, leaning forward with his elbows resting in the pockets of his thighs. “Ah, yes! Of course!” 

Sylus spares one more look out the window. You glance up as the crowd you gathered erupts in applause and praise. Like you sensed your boss’ scarlet eyes on you. And with a knowing lift of your brow and an unnoticeable nod from Sylus, he starts digging for what he’s truly after.

Information. 

—

Fate talks in riddles, but Sylus is good at reading between thin lines. 

They’re halfway through a game of chess when Sylus’ earpiece crackles to life for the first time in nearly an hour. And it’s your voice pouring through, dipped a few octaves down. Amused.

“Woah,” you chuckle, the click of your heels slowing to a stop. “Is that a gun in your indigo pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

There’s a rigidness to Sylus’ movements as he sets his rook down on the chessboard. The world melts away around him, and he finds himself trained on the hang of your voice on the other end. 

He tries not to show it, adrenaline spuming through his body. You said the code word. Indigo. Something to signify you’re about to be captured. You’d lain yourself out as bait to further Sylus’ agenda. You always did. Always served him well, the brawn and beauty. 

You’ll be fine, he tells himself. You always are. More than capable of holding your own. You wouldn’t be his ace otherwise. His jaw tenses. Doesn’t make him worry any less. 

This is a dangerous game you’re playing. The both of you. One wrong step and he could lose his diamond. He’s spent years hunting Fate down. Knew it’d be a matter of time before he bared himself, the greedy bastard. All thanks to you.

“Mister Sylus,” Fate interjects, tapping the clock on the side of their chessboard. Sylus glances up to see his lips crooked with a smile. Something omniscient. Smug. “It’s your turn.”

Sylus rights himself. Poises his hand over the next piece, prepared to make his move. He tamps down a rush of epinephrine when he hears a gruff voice grouse, “Yeah right, bitch, get in the car,” in his earpiece.

You laugh, the sound of it rich and complacent. “What? Not gonna buy me dinner first?”

There’s a brief scuffle taking place in his ear, followed by the sound of something blunt being jammed against bone. And then, there is but the sound of exertion. Orders being barked, car doors slamming. A shriek of feedback and then cold silence.

They’ve more than likely knocked you out. Found your earpiece and disposed of it.

He has faith that you’ll survive long enough to get to the auction unscathed. At least until he can track you to its location. 

—

“It’s been a pleasure, Mister Sylus,” says Fate once the game ends, shaking his hand a little too firm. “Maybe next time I’ll beat you.”

“You almost did,” Sylus counters on a double entendre. Fate regards him with a quirked brow, still holding fast to his hand, rooted to the spot. He scrutinizes Sylus a little longer before one of Fate’s bodyguards approaches him from his side, murmuring something into his ear. It’s hushed, but Sylus picks up on keywords and uses context clues to piece everything together. 

The package has been secured. 

That package being you.

The blood in Sylus’ veins turns to ice. He keeps up the mask of indifference as Mister Fate smiles at him a little too knowingly. Bordered by his men, he excuses himself from the Sylus’ office, taking his egotistical aura with him. 

He feels the twins standing behind him. Stuffs his hands in his slacks’ pockets, studying his feet, the tendons in his jaw pulling. 

“We found her, boss,” Kieran cautiously states. “Looks like they haven’t discovered the tracker in her brooch. You were r—”

“Alive?” Sylus interrupts. He knows you’re fine. But he steels himself against the worst outcome just in case.

“Looks like it.”

A glimmer of something indiscernible fleets over Sylus’ visage. Atta girl.

He signals for the twins to get moving over his shoulder. And when they clear the room in a gust of wind, he’s already sinking into the inky, feathery shadows of his Evol, prepared to find you before they’ve sold you off to the highest bidder.

He just needs you to hold out a little bit longer until he can get to you. And hopefully, the other girls are with you, too.

[hannieehaee]

hi!!!! im wondering if you could do a story about idol mingyu, idol reader, and a story about how mingyu couldnt control himself after seeing his girlfriend perform a hot performance on an end of the year award show because she looked stunning, and he also then accidentally reveals their relationship. TYSM!!💞

content: idol!mingyu x idol!reader, established relationship, secret relationship, mingyu is a simp, afab reader, public embarrassment (not really), part of my lil idol!mingyu universe (even though ive created three separate aus of it oops), dry humping, penetrative sex, mentions of fingering, etc.

wc: 1429

a/n: thank u for requesting i love writing idol aus hehe hope u enjoy <3

original fic

masterlist

as a seasoned idol, mingyu was expected by now to have a pristine ability hold restraint in any and every public situation that required it.

there were certain ways in which he was expected to act while in the public eye.

for instance, he could never outwardly express discomfort at the few awkward fancalls he had to participate in. nor could he show dislike towards the few members of the industry he didn't quite get along with.

but above all, he was absolutely never to wear the lust he felt for you on his face in such a public setting.

especially not during an awards show that was being streamed internationally.

even more so while the camera was focused on seventeen for their reactions of your performance.

but mingyu was just a man after all. a man who was thoroughly and proudly obsessed with you.

except this was meant to be a secret kept between the two of you (and maybe a few other people you had let in on the secret).

so mingyu immediately knew he was fucked the moment your set had begun and you came out wearing the tiniest little number he had ever seen. it hugged your body perfectly, highlighting his favorite parts in the most delicious ways.

it might've been fine if that had been it, but your pretty outfit was also accompanied by the most sinful of sets he had ever seen you do.

watching you grind and twist yourself in ways that reminded him of the many hours spent between the sheets with you was just not something mingyu knew how to witness without it eliciting a reaction out of him.

and sadly for mingyu, his face told every single one of his emotions.

his droopy and lustful eyes said everything they needed to say on their own, but they were also accompanied by the constant biting and licking of his lips as he watched you.

the one thing he didn't realize, however, was that the camera had been on him that whole time, airing his reactions to your performance for everyone out there to see. it had even managed to capture the gruttal groan he'd let out the moment you started grinding sensually on the floor (in a fashion similar to the way you did to him so many times before).

it wasn't until one boo seungkwan kicked him from under the table to get him to react like something other than an animal in heat and clap for you like a normal human being.

but the damage was done, and now so he felt extremely self conscious for the remainder of the show, not knowing what type of rumors to expect to see the following morning.

for now, though, his priority was to catch you during the intermediate time between your show and that of his own group. fortunately for him, there was one group going between your group and his, allowing him a believable excuse to head backstage with his members and go astray as he looked for you before your own group had to head back.

without so much as a single word, he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the nearest empty room he could find, immediately locking the two of you in there as his eyes got a fill on you in your current ensemble; the main instigator of this whole predicament.

"gyu, what the hell are you-"

"no talking. fuck. please, just-" there was genuine desperation in his words. his frantic eyes showed how badly he wanted you, but he didnt even know where to start. so he let his body take control of his actions.

it started with a rough yet sensual kiss against your lips as his hands got a feel of your body. he groped and caressed every inch of you, his lust growing more and more by the second.

"made me make a fool of myself out there, baby," he grunted, lips now trailing down your exposed shoulder, making their way up and down your neck with wet kisses, "couldnt keep my eyes off you the whole time."

"g-gyu," you were defeated against him, allowing your body to be handled however he wanted as long as he kept touching you. he relished on this.

"they saw everything. the way i couldnt keep my eyes off of you ... the way one single look at you can get me on my knees in one instant, fuck", he uncovered as much of your body as he could, raising your skirt while lowering your shirt, "they all know how much i want you."

but you didnt process nor care for his words as he ground his solid member against your now bare cunt (sans some very thin seamless panties that accompanied your skirt), completely lost to the delirious feeling his cock gave you even through his pants.

he kept whispering in your ear just how badly you'd affected him just now, how everyone now knew how pretty you must look when you ride him – all while he hastily lowered his pants and moved your own panties aside, plunging inside as soon as you gave him the okay.

"f-fuck ... feel so fucking good, baby," he breathed against your ear.

he lifted one of your legs up, wrapping it around his waist in order to get a better angle as he thrust desperately into you. the praises leaving his mouth never stopped, only getting less and less intelligible as his arousal grew.

"o-oh, gyu ... right there ..."

"there? fuck ... baby likes it when i fuck her right there?", his taunts were followed by harsher thrusts, causing your nails to dig into his bare arms, "a-ah, shit! 'm baby's gonna leave her mark on me, huh? yeah ... go ahead, pretty. let everyone know i'm yours .."

"m-mine!"

"mhm, gorgeous, just like you're all mine," he opted to carry you now, holding you up against the wall as he moved your body to his pleasing, "fuck, wish i could mark you. show everyone who you belong to," he buried his face in your neck, simply opting to breathe in your scent as he landed soft kisses on the length of your neck.

"do it!," you begged mindlessly, "please? wan' everyone t-to know 'm yours," you babbled.

"fuck," he groaned before following your direction and beginning to nip at the naked skin of your neck. quickly he left a few blossoms of red on your skin, knowing that the moment you went out there, people would be able to spot a few from afar.

with his face buried in your neck, he timed himself so he could orgasm with you, having mastered the art of playing with your clit just at the right time to synchronize your highs.

mingyu stayed glued to you for a while, unwilling to let go as he panted against your neck, attempting to even out his breathing.

"how are you gonna go and perform out there completely out of breath and with scratches on your shoulders?", you giggled.

"i ... oh, fuck."

it was too late for him to realize that although you wouldn't be too scrutinized for your disheveled appearance due to your performance being over with, he, on the other hand, would still have to go out there and dance in front of a huge audience. the error of his ways was lost on him the moment he hardened under his pants at the mere sight of you dancing.

but hell, it had been worth it.

"baby, just ask your stylist for a jacket, okay?", you disconnected from him, knowing it was almost time for him to perform.

you pulled your clothes back together, wincing at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and grabbing some nearby napkins to clean yourself as much as possible, as well as him. once the two of you were presentable, you gave your boyfriend a kiss for goodluck and headed back to your seat while mingyu walked over to his members backstage.

though no dramatic dating scandal broke out that day, various rumors questioning mingyu's lustful eyes during your performance began sparking up, with some people making the connection in the timeline of his mishap and your sudden reappearance in the crowd, with a messy, post-sex look accompanying both you and mingyu.

despite hybe ignoring any and every article insinuating anything between the two of you, you had now created a subsection of fans who were dedicated to unveiling what they were sure (and correct) was a secret love affair between the two of you.

[glitterandlust]

//Trying another new thing. I have my other HH/HB/ZP muses keeping basically like livejournal style online things. They respond to each other and the posts are open for anybody else to comment too. I want to do something a little different with Glitter here (as opposed to Powder on my multi-verse Angel). He's going to be keeping a "Voxtagram," an "OnlyFangs," and a "Vitter" account. So that requires some differentiation. For OOC/mun posts I use "//" at the beginning of the post. Going along that same line of reasoning, Angel will be using emojis at the beginning of his social media posts. I also have narrative posts, just detailing bits of his life. These will also be differentiated using emojis.

Post differentiations are as follows:

Sinstagram - 🕷️🐷

OnlyFangs - 🕸️❤️

Vitter - 🕸️✨

Narrative - 🕷️💎

Mun posts - //

All other posts are normal RP posts.

[rezitio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊

gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji zenin, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen, hiromi higuruma.

━━━━ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 - club, his favourite stripper. food play [alchol], pole dancing, clothed orgasm, grinding, some weird ah make out

Everyone agrees that Satoru is the life of the party. He’s certainly the life of yours. Whenever you see those icy blue eyes, just know you're getting paid tonight.

Holding eye contact with him while you work your magic on the pole. He has a girl dancing on him, but you both know she won’t satisfy him as well as you do.

He's glaring at you from the VIP section; he's telling you to show him what you can do. Show him what he’s going to be working with tonight.

And you do. Dropping down, then snaking yourself around the pole, climbing it again, and sliding down. You lock yourself on the pole. Suspended in the air, you puff your lips out, putting saliva over your mouth and dragging it around your lips.

Making it messy. Like how he likes it. You keep enticing him with your dance, feeding him and the hungry men below the stage. At the end, you slide down, facing the back of the stage. You undo your bra and throw it into the crowd of hungry dogs.

Not turning, you walk straight off the stage into the curtains that led backstage. You get a blanket to cover yourself and on cue, and the strip club manager tells you an important customer has booked a private session.

You knew this man would fold. You walk into the private room, letting the blanket drop to the floor. His eyes drop from your face to your bare breast, almost a frown on his face.

“Awh… You mad I didn't throw the bra to you?” You teased him. He didn’t like that. He gestured for you to come closer while putting the bottle down.

You played his game; you went on your knees, positioning yourself in between his bulge. Gojo was always playful; he never wanted to do things on a sober note. He brought the bottle from his lips to the top of your head, staring at your lips.

You complied. You opened your mouth, and he poured it down your throat. You swallowed, feeling the burn go down and your mind clearing. You climbed him, sharing the taste of the alcohol with each other. Your tongues connect, sharing the taste and licking it off each other's lips.

He brought the bottle to his lips again. He connected with your lips, sharing the alcohol with you. You did it until the last bit of the liquid had slid down each other's throats; by this time you were both out of breath.

You looked at each other for a minute. His eyes told you he wasn’t sober anymore. Tonight was going to be a long one. After a few seconds, your hips automatically started to move, rubbing yourself on him. He broke eye contact, hissing at the bulge fighting his pants. You felt his boxers getting wet; the wet patch kept getting bigger and bigger till eventually he let out a groan.

You knew that moan. He just orgasmed the way he turned to look at you; he wanted more. You could feel the oragsm fluid penetrate his boxers and seep onto your cheeks. Tonight was going to be a long night.

━━━━ ���𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 - confessional booth. priest!Getou, church themes, prior encounters mentioned, toys [vibrator], degrading,

Father forgive you, for you have sinned.

Father, forgive the father, for he has done much worse.

Priest!Geto has his favorites. Among the rich mindless aristocrats that give him money whenever he tells them what they want to hear is this young girl.

Daughter of one of his richest aristocrats, she's supposed to be a good girl like the rest of her family. If only they knew.

“I did it again.” You confessed your head low. You feared raising it would meet the eyes of a disappointed god; really, your head bent under the haunting guilt of your father’s eyes. They would disown you if you knew what you were doing.

It was like music to Getou’s ears. Another confession of yours. A soft hum from him urging you to elaborate. The simple sound brought heat to your core. “But it’s just never enough—not like how you do it. I….I need you to do it again.”

After a long day of lies and eating curses exorcising demons this is all he needed. He needed to hear the innocent girl's voice behind closed doors, or both doors. He didn’t speak; he let her carry on, driving herself to madness, preparing herself for him.

“Can you touch me again? Please, when I do it, it feels good but not like how you do it. Can you guide me again? I need help… God-”

It was his time to shine. “Don’t mention the Lord’s name out of your whorish mouth.” You loved his words, especially when they were harsh. Your hands start to drift downward, pressing against your clothed pussy

“What would your parents say?” He spit, your finger touches your clit, you arch your back at clothed contact. “How naughty and needy you are, being so desperate that you would rub yourself on your priest shoe.”

You do it like he said in your last confession: touch yourself till your finger is wet and panties are soaked. “How eager you were sucking my dick; did it fill you that time? During the sermon, were you wet at my voice? I saw you were rubbing your thighs together. When you excused yourself, did you go play with yourself in the bathroom?”

You responded with a low and shaky “no.” It wasn’t your lie that shocked him. It was how he underestimated how naughty you really were. Already touching yourself to his voice. You’d grown quite naughty.

“Hands off slut.” You immediately stopped your movements. How Getou wanted to pound into that temptation of yours, but he had to wait, not tonight. He’d deal with your soft lips—wash them with his cum, your hardened nipples, your unruly hand, and the truly untameable cunt of yours—another day.

Tonight he was testing your limits. “The box beneath you, take it and its package.”

Your eyes scurry around the dim wooden booth. Finding and revealing the box, you took out the device. You’ve seen it before on your computer screen; you know they use it.

“I want you to turn it on and scream for me. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll come inside your booth.” He commands. He fumbles with his robe as his hands hurry to reach his own temptation.

━━━━ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍 - the bathroom of horse racings. cheating but the guy’s an arse anyways, deepthroat, kinda rough

Everything this man knows about you was against his own will.

It was obtained from Shiu’s random ramblings when he got too drunk and talked about all the drama he knew and from the loud conversations of your fleabag of a husband with his friends during horse races.

You hear what he says about you. I mean, you’re sitting right next to him. But you stay silent and innocent with a smile on your face, waving the flag of that winning horse owned by your husband. He bet you didn’t even know its name.

Toji would admit, your husband is a bigger dirtbag than he is. That's why when you excuse yourself to a man who waves his hand at you and wink at him with a provocative smile, he follows right on like a horse being pulled by its bit.

You two don’t waste time. You have to get back to your husband, and Toji has a bet to rig. Immediately you two walk into that cramped bathroom stall; your hands are already working on pulling down his pants.

You don't even rub the bulge through the cloth. You pull it straight down and deal with the real thing. His hands find their way to your hair roots. He knows how to hold it to get a moan from you. He knows just how to pull it tight enough for your head to move.

Pulling your head up to face him, those few seconds before he ravishes you. Those few seconds of his cold eyes meeting yours almost reminding you this is all your good for. Yet this is all you ever want to do.

There's no attraction or love in any of your eyes; just lusty eyes hungry for each other. He drags your head down, smashing his cock into you. He always does this in the beginning, trying to get a dominant head start; in the end, he's the one grabbing onto your head and pushing it away due to his overstimulation.

How you love making big men beg.

His hips thrust into your mouth rapidly; he's trying to make you gag. Trying to get himself a little ego boost. He wants to be told how big he is? Sure.

He sandwiches your head between the wall and his cock, pushing the whole length into your mouth and holding it in place while you struggle until you finally gag.

Gasping for air as he pulls out the string of saliva and pre-cum, still collecting the two body parts. Your eyes meet; he's amused, but now that you’re serious, you will make him beg you.

Your mouth wraps around his cock. Sucking the life out of it. Your hand working down on it as your lips move up, twisting around his cock. You pull out, keeping eye contact; hes almost undone, forcing a tiny laugh out of you as you smear his dick on your cheek while licking it down.

Reaching his sensitive spot, as soon as your tongue reaches his balls, you both pause. He realises what you are about to do, but before he can grab your hair, your mouth begins its work on the plump skin at his crotch.

He’s immediately responding. Your hand works on his cock while your mouth fondles his sack. Rest assured, you got him groaning and begging for a break. But you didn’t stop till he blew his load out twice.

━━━━ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 - living room. oral [F!], a failed quickie, squirt on face, nanami is HUNGRY, morning seggs,

Traditionally, Nanami would say something like the bedroom. But whether he recognizes it or not

This man fucks you on the couch more times you guys have even slept on the bed together.

And it's not only the couch—sometimes against the wall, sometimes on the floor, sometimes on the fucking island counter. Just that space directly near the door and in between the kitchen. In the morning, rushing to work or later coming home exhausted and horny. He has you bent, on his shoulders, wrapped around his hip, or even standing up.

He loves how convenient it is. How easy it is coming home to see you perfectly ready for him, mindlessly watching your show. Or as he's rushing out the door, you come in barely awake, and the goodbye kiss turns slowly into something else.

Just like today.

“Ken, you said you're late…” You moan his name out. The untied tie that was supposed to be hanging off his collar has now found a way to wrap itself around your hands, preventing you from destroying his freshly styled hair; you could do that after he came back.

It was just a quickie, he said. It would be over soon. An hour in and he's still going. His mouth latching onto your lips. Not the ones screaming his name.

The ones creaming it out. He was acting as if you guys didn't fuck the night before. He raised his head for breath, his fingers still torturing the hole. “One more squirt.”

You would say he looked a mess, but let's be honest, this man is always looking good. Although there's liquid dropping off his chin and it's smeared all over his lips like gloss. All though his eyes are squinted dangerously looking at you. A reflection of his desire.

Although his mouth was watering, eager for the reward of your cum, he still looked perfect. He was crumbling undone, yet this pillar was stubborn. He remained sturdy because he knew how close you were.

Your legs started shaking; your hole was clenched and gaping as his tongue reached your clit again; like a pop of confetti, it poured out all over his face. He eagerly cleaned it off your lips, then his lips and chin while looking at you, even licking his fingers too. You thought you were finally done, but his eyes started to cast a different glow.

A predatoral one, a hungry one. Just one more, he said for the hundredth time.

━━━━ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 - his garden. lowkey exhibitionism, true form sukuna, cunnilingins, hes really abusing the ability to spawn mouths…

Sukuna had a sanctuary of some sort. A safe place in his garden where he thinks under a tree older than him.

It's an open space but reserved untouched. Urame only goes there when it's urgent; anything else can wait till he's back. And Sukuna's wives and concubines who so proudly hang around and parade the garden like it's there’s do not even pass by it.

They would take a longer route if it came to that. It wasn't secluded or anything. Trust anyone who wanted to see what was happening under the tree could see.

Anyone who didn't care much for their life could go if they wanted to go. It was a huge bonsai tree. A novelty like the creature that sat under it.

A novelty like the sight many jealous wives had to witness at the corner of their eye—a simple concubine of all things on top of Sukuna under the sacred tree.

It felt like they were witnessing a blasphemous act. A sacred patch of land being tainted and scarred by a simple common concubine. Not even his oldest wife, nor his first wife, nor any living being except Sukuna—I doubt even an ant—has walked on that land. It exudes so much of his aura. It repels any walking organism.

Now such a quiet place is filled with loud lewd sounds of your moans and hungry slurping. Sukuna lays on his back, lost in thought. You? Your fighting for your thoughts as the fog of orgasms threatens to take you.

The ample amount of pleasure driving you mad. And it came in waves. The maw on his stomach tongue lapping at your clit, each flick activates a bundle of nerves. Then he begins to suckle again. Torturing your clit by encapsing it in a vacuum.

Your whole body is twitching in pleasure.

You don’t scream his name or address him directly—no, you wouldn’t even think of distracting him from his thoughts that could result in instant dullness, as in, you would be dead before you could even see his eyes dart towards you.

You try to get off, but his lower hands are holding you down. It was a battle of strength you obviously lost. Bringing yourself chest to chest with him in defeat, maybe you could cry out of extreme pleasure in his man boobs.

It was a trap.

His hands move to your torso now, so you couldn’t sit up right any longer. You didn’t even think of it; your mind is still releasing more and more endorphins. Then you begin to feel something wet, soft yet firm, playing with your nipples. Next thing, you know your tits are being sucked and played with.

You try to get yourself up, but his hand on your torso pushes you down. There was no escape; you led yourself into this, and you would sit through it like a good girl.

━━━━ 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 - his office. against the window, backshots, speed play, est relationship, spoiled princess, he's still a workacholic

Hirogami always stays long nights at the office. Always coming home late and leaving home early. He loves you; he loves work; why not combine the two?

At times he’d spread you on his desk; sometimes when he has a meeting at night, he'll have you under his desk. Sometimes he gets down and dirty fucking you on the floor; sometimes he’d wait, putting you on edge by warming himself inside you while he finishes the last bit of paperwork. It's something different every time.

You try and focus on the tiny people below; they were like little ants. Of course they couldn’t see you from up here. Not only was his office on the highest floor, the windows were tinted. But what was there to even see?

Tits smashed onto the glass? How your face looked when trying to control your moans, trying not to be loud? After all, his receptionist was still around, but he didn't care. His thrusts were loud, daring loud sounds from you.

You grab onto the hands digging into your hips. “Hiro~....” You moan out. He doesn’t stop; he knows you don't want him to. He knows you want him to keep going, maybe even faster, but he slows down.

Hitting deep rhythmic thrust. His eyes on yours, "Hm?” pound “I’m gonna need you to speak louder.” pound “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You groan, needing more, needing it faster. “Please- go….” he hits deep, releasing a loud moan, interrupting your begs. “You need what my love?” Before you can respond, he starts going fast. He stays at the perfect speed. “Oh~ yess,” you moan.

Then he goes faster, not allowing you to catch up; now you're begging him to go slower. And he does this back and forth playing with the speed, messing with your mind until you don't know what you’re even begging for.

Until the past, ‘perfect’ speed is now too slow but also too fast for you.

[ollywears]

Olly Alexander wearing Maison Margiela x Gentle Monster Collection MM001 W2 sunglasses at Mad Cool Festival and in a backstage photo (July 8, 2023).

[fizzarollitm]

.anyway shout out to the very short but fun whore era Fizz had at like 21-23. Fucking earned that one

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Worship

a/n I won’t say anything because what is there to say… Also, this is fiction idk why but I just feel the need to wave that flag here.

Summery: Just on stage shenanigans between you, the back singer, and the boys.

warning: no full on smut because there’s so much of that as it is but they are sex on legs so this does have sexual implications. I’m just a girl. And I feel like I should go confess my sins to someone.

All of them x reader

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nothing truly beats the feeling of the stage lighting beaming on you. The radiant atmosphere and the beating of the crowd in front of the stage. It got addictive fast. And the rush of both adrenaline and freedom you never truly got over. Most of the time, it still felt like a dream. Like you weren’t there. There weren’t four other people. A whole band that people swooned over. 

You still remember the notification of the private message in your DMs. “We’ve seen your videos. The voice is to die for. Up to back us up?” You had stared at it for hours. Pressing the profile over and over again, convinced that one of the times it would take you to some scammy account, but it didn’t. So you took that leap of fate, and the roller coaster that unfolded still made your skin tingle at times. 

“How you don’t break an ankle in these is beyond me," II grumbled, gesturing to the high heels you were strapping around your legs. Before throwing the towel he had just used to dry his hair with, at you. You huffed back, “Of course you wouldn’t know; you sit and look pretty the whole show."  You shot him an overly exaggerated smile before flipping him off. “Put the claws away, baby," he said, lifting his hands up, “I would love to keep my eyes for some time longer." You lifted both of your hands, making sure to flex the black coffin-shaped nails, only earning a chuckle in return from II. 

“No form of violence is allowed backstage," III cut in, putting the mask over his face, “Unless it’s consensual, of course." The three of you snickered. There was never a dull moment with them. You weren’t sure exactly why you imagined them to be all cold and unapproachable, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. From the silly hats they happily took from the fans to messing around on stage barking. “We’re out in thirty,"  IV's voice cut through the snickering. “Vess?”, you questioned, standing up only to still feel tiny among them. It was unfair how even killer heels had you feeling minuter. “In his element, ready to go," the usual then. You turned to the mirror while doing the last checkups. Fiddling with the straps of your dress.

“Headset feels good?”, warm hands slipped up your beck, fidgeting with the wires as if he even knew what he was doing. “You just needed an excuse to put your hands on me, sir," you said, pushing back against IV’s chest. He already had his mask on, but from the way his blue eyes flickered, you knew he was smirking at you. “You can’t call the man guilty if you haven’t caught him red-handed, darling,"  he muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “And to my defense, the wire wasn’t plugged in,"  he snickers before pulling back. You shook your head as you watched him follow after the boys out. Reaching for your mask, you take a couple of deep breaths to steady your heartbeat. It was going to be a night to remember. You could just feel it. 

And your gut wasn’t wrong. The crowd was wild tonight, and that always set the bend into a different kind of frenzy. For most of the shows, you were usually up there on your pedestal. Looking like a vision cloaked in both light and darkness, there were some songs that Vessle liked having you down there with him. But you always felt almost guilty. You didn’t want the fans to feel like you were there to change the dynamic. Let alone take up a spot that wasn’t yours to take. 

So when you noticed Vessel striding towards you, you couldn’t help but silently shake your head. They had already all been all over each other all night. But you don’t get to run through all of your reasons as to why this was a bad idea before Vessel was in front of your pedestal. Hands reaching up for your ankles before he pointed for you to get down. You shook your head at him, continuing to sing your part. Not wanting the interaction to seem odd, you sank to your knees so you can touch his face, only realizing how wrong this move was once Vessel's hands grip the sides of your hips and you’re airborne before you can even blink. 

A small shriek slips past your lips as you hold onto his shoulders. But no matter what your reaction to this was, he was all smug about it. His white teeth bright against the black paint covering his body. “I don’t like it when you put on unnecessary fights," he mused before turning back to the crowd. So, you let the thrill of the beat take over. Playing into the role of the masked goddess. A siren. That was the beauty of the mask. Such little thing making the biggest difference. Giving one the chance to feel way more confident. 

And it’s II your legs take you to first. His eyes follow your movements all across the stage. With the drum set taking most of his platform he was sat on, playing games with this man was tricky. But it wasn’t impossible. So you slither behind him. Placing your hand on top of his head, you carefully make him look up at you. That same moment, the heel II was so found off finds its way between his parted legs. Without missing a beat, his face is pressed into your upper thigh, fingers dipping beneath the mesh overlay of your dress. And you know there will be hell to pay later on from the way he’s gripping your ankle. You push his face away from your body, throwing him a lighthearted kiss as you hurry down the platform stairs. The roar of the crowd filling all of your senses. 

III is left to your mercy next. And since his eyes were all over you, you knew that even if you were to walk right past him, he would follow you across the stage. So you stand there, motioning with your fingers for him to come to you. Right as your part of the solo vocals came. Ones that boys even called your siren song. You let the melody pour out of you. Watching III sink to his knees in front of you. Your brain blanks for a moment as he leans forward, and you just know why the crowd erupts in chaos. So your fingers find his head, pulling him even closer. Let him paint the picture of devouring you. Worshipping you. And you’re yet again so thankful for the mask covering your face because you know that your face would be as red as the paint on his skin. Especially after he stands back up. Fingers moved to brush over his lips as if he was cleaning them.

You can feel someone’s eyes burning holes in your body, and you’re not even one bit surprised to see IV with his eyes blazing. He was the one you flirted the most with backstage as well. Since day one, there was just that mutual fire you both shared. So the back and forth between you both was never-ending. But if there was one thing IV avoided, it was making any move towards you while everyone was on stage. And while boys took their sweet time being lunatics when it came to you. His play pretend ended with his bandmates. Yet you didn’t miss the glances he threw your way. Or how he would find himself close to your pedestal, close enough to touch but never leaning in. 

And while your head was telling you that maybe he just didn’t want to get involved, your heart was telling you to take yet another leap of faith. So you two stood in front of each other for a heartbeat. And right as Descending’s you came crawling back to me, filled the stage. Your finger hooked beneath the bottom of his mask as you pulled him closer. No matter the blast of sounds around you, you could still make out the growl that slipped past his lips. And since his eyes promised hell, you threw all caution to the wind as you leaned in, smashing your lips against his. You didn’t let it linger for too long; there was little fun in having two masks between you both, but it got the point across well enough. 

IV’s hand reached for you as you moved back away. A freaked-out giggle slipped past your lips as you darted towards your last victim for the night. Well, and shelter now, considering that you had to get away from IV. Vessel was someone you knew had to be worshipped in front of the fans. You weren’t living under a rock. His hands and fingers had separate fan blogs, not to mention his carved-out chest muscles. So you slipped behind him. Letting your fingers trail the sides of him. Finding the sweat-drenched skin. Dragging your nails over the paint, no doubt leave claw marks in its way. 

You rested your head against Vessel’s beck for a heartbeat, hoping to slip from behind him with ease. But you couldn’t have been more wrong because the moment you took the reassured stride away from him. A firm hand gripped your hair as he carefully, yet rather possessively, dragged you back to him. Pulling your head back so he could look down at you, shaking his head. But the smile gave his controlling demeanor away. “Whatever will we do with you, little Vixen?" You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. Playfully pushing at his chest, you slipped out of his grip. Swaying your hips as you slowly climbed back to the steps of your pedestal. Not letting your brain think of the hell you just set ablaze.