#is also a song tailored for the two of them ;)

[maiumeni]

I GOT INSPIRED BY THIS AMAZING, WITTY, LEGS-KICKING FIC BY @paris-23 >o<

Please do check their work, fanfiction and art!!! The Narrator feels like the Narrator (in character, and very British)

(Edit: I've read more of their work and it's INSANE!!! ALL OF THEM. Oh dear.)

PS. I changed up the dialogue a bit due to the lack of space and context. Inspired by the scene, but not quite the same! That is precisely why you should read it. Come on, give it a try~

PSS. the 2nd panel is heavily referenced, does the TSP fandom recognise the show? tehe

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: The world we knew by Frank Sinatra.

A/N: I wanna make this a three part short story, so if anyone is interested in being tagged in the second part just let me know!! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 2655

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part two

Getting an invite to the annual crimson ball, hosted by yours truly, was nothing but an honor. Every overlord and every sinner in the pride ring waited anxiously for a letter. A black card with white letter in a cursive font stating ‘You have been personally invited by Hells biggest designer. The list of the gala was simple. The usual overlords, Zestial, Carmilla Carmine and her daughters, Zeezie, Rosie, Fredrick Von Eldritch and Bethesda von Eldritch. Alastor who had came back after seven years of hiding god knows where, and by special request, the three vee’s who had never attended the gala before. Then it becomes a bit more political.

Next on the list was the Goetia family, inviting the recently divorced prince with his daughter. Inviting Lucifer and Lilith, though they only ever came when everyone was gone. Then was their daughter Charlotte, who got a plus one as a special perk of being the princess of hell. Husk because he had been an old friend of yours before his status of Overlord was taken from him by none other than Alastor. He was also given a plus one, though he usually never brought anyone extra. Sir Pentious was a candidate, but ultimately scrapped from your list of invites as you felt he was too childish.

The gala was tonight and everything was going smoothly. Preparations were almost done, the foyer was spotless just the way you liked it, and everything seemed to be falling into place. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had spent months designing your perfect dress for tonight. Everyone attending the gala knew there was only ever one color off limits, because you always wore it best. The color black always suited you perfectly. No one could wear it better than you.

Back at the hotel, Charlie felt guilty for using her authority as princess to have people help her get ready for this gala. Based on what Alastor had told her, there would be a lot of political powers and fellow overlords there. She wanted to look her best if she was going to pitch the hotel to them. She needed more people on board with the project, maybe someone who didn’t think it was complete and utterly ridiculous joke like Alastor did.

“How do I look?” Charlie asked as the makeup and hair artists stepped away from her. Charlie stepped out, allowing Vaggie to get a better look at her in a tailored charcoal gray suit, a departure from her usual vibrant red attire. The jacket, adorned with subtle pinstripes, accentuated her frame, while the crisp, white silk shirt underneath added a touch of formality. Completing the ensemble, she wore a black tie with a discreet pattern that hinted at both elegance and authority. The ensemble was a strategic choice, projecting confidence and a readiness to engage with the political powers present at the gala for the sake of her hotel. Vaggie smiled and hugged Charlie deeply, their embrace making Charlie feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Charlie you look amazing. What happened to the red?” Vaggie asked, before Charlie just chuckled.

“Well, I wanted a change for tonight. I’m always in red, and I feel like they’ll take me more serious if I’m not walking in there with my usual attire. Besides, you read the invitation, ‘formal attire, look your best’.” Charlie said. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie pulled back from the hug to admire Vaggie in her dress. She was wearing a sleek and modern grey dress that gracefully embraced the formal occasion. The dress, with its tailored fit and subtle shimmer, exuded class. The knee-length hemline added a contemporary touch, and Vaggie had decided to pair it with black heels to complete the ensemble. The choice of grey complemented Charlie’s charcoal gray suit, creating a coordinated yet distinct look that would surely make an impression at the gala. Charlie felt her cheeks heat up taking in her appearance, her long hair gently pinned back, the loose pieces of hair framing her face.

“Aww, Vaggie you look so pretty!!” Charlie said excitedly. Vaggie just smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up at Charlies compliment.

“I agree, you look good vagina.” Angel said mockingly, causing Vaggie to glare at him. Charlie just gushed.

“Angel be nice. This is really important for the hotel.” Charlie explained. He just nodded, tilting his head back and downing a bottle of liquor. The staff however was interrupted by Angel making a purring sound at Husk, who was dressed in a nice white suave dinner jacket, with perfect cutouts for his wings, along with some sleek black trousers and some black dress shoes. The match, he had a black silk lapel.

“I can think of another place that suit would look.” Angel said, leaning onto Husk. He rolls his eyes, bottle in hand.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asks, and Angel just grins.

“On my bedroom floo-“ Angel doesn’t get to finish, being shrugged off by Husk who just walks away with a shake of his head.

“Oh my gosh! Husk you look amazing!” Charlie squealed in delight. Husk just smiled softly before setting his drink on the bar counter.

“It appears everyone is ready.” Alastor said, the focus of the room shifting to him. Niffty was at his side studying his outfit from head to toe.

Alastor emerged in an ensemble that deviated from his usual eccentricity, opting for a more formal yet captivating look. A deep red velvet tailcoat adorned his frame, its luxurious texture catching the light. Dark-red lapels, meticulously piped with gold, added a touch of opulence. Underneath, he wore a perfectly tailored crimson dress shirt, the power emitting off of him. Suddenly, the room grew just a tad bit darker, the shadows of the room stretching just a bit. Complementing the ensemble, he chose a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, allowing the bold red hue to take center stage on his appearance. His choice of footwear shifted to polished black oxford shoes, a departure from his usual pointed-toe boots. The finishing touches of the outfit included a matching red silk bowtie, neatly knotted at his throat, and black leather gloves that added a refined edge. Alastor’s presence was commanding, radiating an air of formality while retaining the distinctive charm that defined him. The room was captivated by the Radio Demon’s unexpected transformation into a vision of refined class and style.

“You took forever for that?” Niffty said, before Angel Dust tossed a pillow at her.

“Shut it you. We, we are keeping,” Angel said, hands waving around Alastor, “to whatever this is.”

“Style.” Alastor said confidently. Vaggie just face palmed while Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Okay, I think everyone’s ready. Should we head out?” Charlie asked. Vaggie nodded, before Alastor dug the invitation out of his coat pocket. Standing near a wall, he traced the symbol on the back of the card on the wall. “Uh, Al? What are you doing?” Charlie asked. He grinned, putting his hand flat on the wall. The symbol began to glow green, before it opened a portal. On the other side, was a large house. The grand Victorian mansion stood as a testament to opulence, its imposing facade adorned with intricate wrought-iron black railings and embellished balconies with hints of chains. Tall, arched windows with stained glass panels framed the exterior, allowing glimpses of the soft glow emanating from within. The entrance, marked by a sweeping staircase, welcomed guests with ornate, carved intricate detailed doors. Charlie, Vaggie and Husk followed Alastor through the portal, Charlie waving goodbye to Niffty, and Angel. Sir Pentious was most likely hiding out in a room somewhere with his egg boys.

As guests approached, they marveled at the meticulous details of the architecture – elaborate moldings, corbels, and friezes adorned every corner. Ivy-clad walls added a touch of nature’s grace, intertwining with wrought-iron lampposts that cast a warm ambiance over the meticulously landscaped gardens.Inside, the grand foyer unfolded, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail. Crystal chandeliers hung from soaring ceilings, their light refracted by ornate mirrors that lined the walls. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, creating intimate spaces for guests to gather and converse.Every room whispered of a bygone era – intricately patterned wallpaper, gilded frames displaying classical art, and the faint fragrance of aged wood and lavender.

The air was infused with a sense of refinement, transporting guests to a time when elegance reigned supreme. The Victorian mansion, a splendid backdrop for the gala, promised an evening steeped in grandeur and charm. In the middle of the exterior grounds, a grand fountain of blood took center stage. Its sculpted marble figures spouted blood into the air, catching the moonlight in a dance of liquid elegance. The fountain, surrounded by manicured gardens and flowering shrubs, became a focal point for guests as they strolled through the outdoor spaces, the gentle sound of cascading blood adding a serene touch to the gala’s errie atmosphere.

The overlords arrival made the event much more real. Alastor hums to himself as he walks around the outside grounds. There are servants of all kinds walking around with glasses of champagne. Rosie is sitting on a bench, plucking thorns off a rose. Alastor smiles to himself, happy to see a familiar face he know he can confide in.

“Rosie dear! So nice to see you.” Alastor said with a smile. She smiles at him, teeth razor sharp.

“Do you think you’ll be getting a seat tonight?” She asks, snapping the rose off its stem and tossing it to the side.

“Well of course I will. It’d be a mistake if I wasn’t.” Alastor said with a smile, crossing his legs as he sat down next to her. Sinners from all over the pride ring were socializing outside of the large mansion. He knew you were inside finalizing preparations and possibly screaming your head off. Overall, the air was chilled with a comfortable atmosphere. Well, it had been comfortable, until a loud noisy vehicle stopped at the front gates. Everyone’s heads were turning, Rosie and Alastor looking at each other with strained smiles. Stepping out of the large limousine were the three vee’s, vulgar music blaring from the vehicles speakers as the three made their way through the now open gates. Reporters lined the edges of the gates, trying desperately to see the overlords inside and to try and sneak into the gala, which was starting soon.

“Mr.Vox! Mr.Vox!” News reporters shouted. Velvet was busy taking selfies of her and her outfit, her assistant following close behind her. Valentino was busy looking down at everyone, smoking his usual, while taking his long strides next to Vox, who was in the middle of the three.

On Vox’s right was Valentino, who donned a captivating look for the gala. His tailored white suit boasted a jacket that reached just above the knee, a subtle departure from his usual floor-length coat. The crimson silk lining peeked through, adding a luxurious touch to the outfit. The coat, reminiscent of his extravagant style, also had a vivid-red hue with his signature white fur trim at the wrists. The black and white striped fur trim along the center-front added a distinctive flair. A gold chain and love-heart-shaped broach fastenings adorned the coat, creating an opulent yet alluring look. Finally, he wore polished black heeled boots, maintaining the sleek and captivating allure that defined Valentino’s presence. The familiar color scheme remained intact, blending sophistication with a hint of provocative charm for the grand gala.

On Vox’s left was Velvet, who had spent months perfecting her outfit for the gala, in hopes she’d be invited of course. She had begged the boys to keep a good public appearance, in hopes they’d be recognized and invited to the crimson gala. Velvette, deciding to ditch her usual style, embraced a lavish and over-the-top look that represented her brand. Dressed in a knee-length dress, the garment had a striking blend of black and red hues. The dress, fitted at the waist, flowed into a voluminous skirt, creating a sense of extravagance. The bodice of the dress featured intricate lace detailing. A white collar adorned with a velvet bow added a playful yet mature flair. The sleeves, a fusion of burgundy and white patterns, contributed to the overall lavish aesthetic she had been going for. Her accessories took on a more refined form. Velvet gloves, adorned with delicate lace, graced her hands, and a pearl necklace adorned her neck, adding a classic touch, completed with maroon heels, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. Velvet’s transformation into this upscale attire reflected her desire to make a statement at the Crimson Gala.

In the middle, and the brains of the three vee’s, was none other than the head of Vox Tech, Vox himself. He wore a sleek and modern dark blue tuxedo, tailored with precision. Of course he could only have the best. The suit featured subtle futuristic patterns that enhanced his ‘perfect’ sense of style. To complement his high-tech vibe, Vox wore a light blue undershirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol. Vox's gala attire seamlessly blended power and control with his technological edge, creating a memorable look in shades of dark blue, which in his opinion, was the best color.

Upon seeing Alastor, Vox’s eye twitched noticeably. The gates shut behind the three vee’s, closing off the gala to the public. The overlords begin to get closer together unknowingly, Zestial finding a comfortable corner to watch things play out. Carmilla and Zeezie stand close together, whispering to one another as both Rosie and Alastor stand from the bench. Vox, Valentino and Velvet make their way to the Radio Demon and his colleagues.

“I see the grandpa’s were invited.” Velvet says with a scoff, scrolling through her phone.

“So disrespectful.” Carmilla says under her breath, looking away from the three vee’s.

“Hm, interesting, and I was beginning to think the only interesting thing tonight would be the dinner.” Bethesda said, her brother nodding.

“Well, it seems the children brought their play date to the public then.” Zeezie says. The other overlords laugh and Valentino sneers at her.

“Well an idiota like you would think so. Then again, don’t you all do the same with your diapers?” He asked, puffing the smoke into her face. She growls at him, fists clenching at her side, but Carmilla stops her.

“Didn’t they say this was an adult only gala?” Carmilla asked, Rosie chuckling at her words.

“Oh can it grandma.” Velvete said. But Vox remained silent, having his own personal staring match with Alastor, whose smile was stretched ear to ear, teeth on full display.

“I thought this gala was meant for real talent?” Vox asked, stepping closer to Alastor.

“Well it was until you showed up.” Alastor said with a smile. “There’s no originality in copying someone else.” He tuts. Vox narrows his eyes, face twisting with anger as he steps closer to Alastor again.

“You wanna tell me something, you old piece of-“ Vox is stopped, the lights to the exterior of the mansion dimming. The lights behind the large front doors opening slowly. Two tall black shadowy figures stepped from the door, smoke at their feet.

“Thank you all for your attendance. As we know, the annual Crimson Gala is held every year, and this year is no different. With the new extermination date, important decisions must be made. Tonight, ten individuals will be selected to sit at Madame’s table where she will discuss private plans on how to move forward.” The two said in unison. Everyone fell silent as more shadows appeared, each one sitting on the sides of the steps. Lights around the staircases began to light up, and people began making their way up the stairs.

“Well~ this should be fun.”

[zaczenemiji]

Hi there! It's me...again. Hope your doing okay.

I was thinking about a new request about Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader based on the song "Please, Please, Please" from Sabrina Carpenter. Reader is a singer just like her so and has a relationship with Ken but she thinks that some things aren't doing good, but she also has him wrapped around her finger. Like the part with "I beg you, don't embarrass me, mother******". It can be angst but also fluffy and spice (Only if you want to but no smut) It can end in a happy ending.

The rest is up to you because I know you'll do a great job. No need to rush so take your time.

Don’t Prove ‘Em Right

Kenji Sato x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1,358

Genre/Warnings: Angst (light), Character Development, Drama, Emotional, Redemption

Author’s Note: I went with a bit of angst 🤧

MASTERLIST

“You could do better.”

This was one thing you’ve always heard since you started dating men as a singer. Throughout your career, you were either cheated on, abandoned, or used in a way that they just rode your fame.

Other times, fans would ship you with another singer or celebrity or whoever famous and you’d give it a try for them but the ending is the always same: you two were just pretending for public entertainment and there was never love at all.

Your perception of love blurred the longer you got in the singing industry. You sang about it, wrote songs about it, but you’ve never really experienced it for a significant amount of time or for a significant depth.

That was until you met Kenji.

Despite his fame, he seemed down-to-earth and genuinely interested in getting to know you. He took you to his baseball games and introduced you to his teammates. In return, you invited him to your recording sessions.

Kenji was always supportive, and always encouraging. He seemed genuinely proud of your achievements and was always there for you. Despite his busy schedule, he shows up at your gigs and concerts and cheers you on from the front row.

He had a way of making you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was easy to overlook the occasional outbursts, the moments of impulsiveness that seemed to come with his fiery temperament.

You told yourself that everyone had flaws, and Kenji's good qualities far outweighed his bad ones.

You believed in him and in the future you could build together. Despite the red lights and the stop signs, you held on to the belief that this time, this love was right.

But as time went on, the cracks in Kenji's facade began to show. His temper flared more frequently, and his impulsive decisions started to take a toll on your relationship.

You made excuses for him and justified his actions to your friends and family. You told them he’s different.

But they told you that with the way he’s behaving, you’ll just end up in the dumps again—that he’s going to cheat on you, hurt you, leave you, and the ending will be the same…

“You could do better.”

Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another. You couldn’t afford your name dominating the headlines again. And for what reason? Another breakup.

You loved him deeply, but the constant cycle of highs and lows was exhausting. You wanted to believe that he could change, that he could be the man you fell in love with.

But the more you tried to fix things, the more you realized that some things were beyond your control.

You sat in front of your vanity doing your makeup nicely. You glanced at the clock. Kenji would be here any minute to pick you up now. Tonight is your big night. It’s an afterparty to celebrate the release of your new single.

Your boyfriend had a reputation for causing a scene. It wasn't entirely his fault—he was passionate but it sometimes translated into impulsiveness. Tonight, of all nights, you needed him to be on his best behavior.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Kenji stood there, looking dashing in a tailored suit, a grin spreading across his face as he saw you.

"Wow, you look stunning," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a smile. "You sure you wanna come?"

"Of course," he replied with a confidence that both reassured and worried you. “I’m always here for you.”

You arrived at the venue in no time. Celebrities, reporters, and fans filled the room, all eager to celebrate your success. You and Kenji mingled with the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting congratulations.

But as the night went on, Kenji's behavior started to shift. The drinks were flowing, and while you had stuck to soda water, Kenji had not.

You watched with growing anxiety as he laughed a little too loudly, and gestured a little too wildly. The conversations around you started to feel like a backdrop to a ticking time bomb.

You pulled him aside. "Kenji, please," you whispered urgently. "Just... take it easy, okay?"

He frowned, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing his features. "What? I'm just having a good time."

"I know," you said, forcing another smile. “Just... for me, okay?"

He sighed but nodded and for a while, it seemed like he was keeping his promise. He stuck by your side, an arm around your waist, engaging in polite conversation with your friends and family.

However, you left him one moment and then the next, he was talking to one of the reporters. The latter walked away, a smirk on his face. Kenji turned to you, his face flushed with anger.

"Can you believe that guy?" he spat. "He had the nerve to ask about the last game. Said I sucked."

"Kenji," you said softly, trying to calm him down. You placed your hand on his chest. "It's not worth it."

"But—"

"Please, Kenji. Just... let it go."

He looked at you, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. He took a deep breath and nodded. "For you," he said quietly.

But the reprieve was short-lived. You caught sight of him at the bar, raising his voice at someone who had apparently made a snide comment.

The situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, Kenji had thrown a punch, causing a commotion that drew everyone's attention.

Your heart sank as security rushed in to break up the fight. You could feel all eyes on you, whispers spreading through the crowd.

You felt a sense of dejà vu as this wasn't the first time Kenji let his emotions get the best of him, and you were able to hold it together as you’ve always done, but then you heard the one thing you hated.

“She could’ve done better.”

Without a word, you grabbed your things and stormed out of the venue, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

Not long after, Kenji arrived at your house, disheveled and remorseful. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry," he began, reaching out to you. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

You stepped back, keeping a distance between you. "Kenji, this can't keep happening. You promised me you would behave tonight!” You said in between sobs. “This was supposed to be my night, and you turned it into a disaster.”

You sat on your couch, your legs feeling too tired to keep you up. "I can't keep making excuses for you,” you continued. “I can't keep sacrificing my career for your mistakes."

Kenji fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He’s scared. He knew what those words meant. At that moment, he felt like the sky was crashing on him.

"I don't want to lose you, (y/n)," he said quietly, tears falling down. "I love you, and I know I've been screwing up. But I'm willing to do everything to make things right. Therapy, anger management, whatever it takes."

You stared at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and doubt. "Kenji, this isn't just about tonight,” you said. “This has been happening for a while now.“

“Please, (y/n),” he begged, his voice trembling as he knelt in front of you, embracing your legs as he rested his head on your lap. “I want to be the man you deserve. Please, give me one more chance."

Over the next few weeks, Kenji followed through on his promise. He made genuine efforts to address his issues.

He went out of his way to apologize to your friends and family for his behavior at the party, taking full responsibility for his actions.

Slowly but surely, he’s coming back to being the man you fell in love with. He made sure you wouldn’t be the one doing better because he was becoming better himself.

One afternoon, you had lunch with your friends. They asked about how things are now going between you and Kenji. You gave them a smile, a genuine one since after the party.

“He became better.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle

[bambikisss]

Freaky : C.San x S.Mingi

💕: Rockstar Guitarist! Mingi x Model Reader x Rockstar drummer! San

📙: You were invited to Milan for fashion week and end up sitting in between two members of the world's biggest rock group ATEEZ, who also seem to have a thing for you: both of them.

⚠: Unprotected sex (keep it wrapped), threesome (mmf), Spit, oral (m + f receiving), dumbification (reader), multiple rounds, all over the hotel room lol, pink haired mingi, cocky san + mingi, mention of trying anal, mentions of voyeurism, smut with a hint of plot in the beginning

Bambi's notes: So, this was a journey to write, so you know that means smut without much plot lol this is for my sangi fans, because who wouldn't want to be sandwiched between San and Mingi?

Song: Freak - a - Leek by Petey Pablo, Slow down by Chase Atlantic

Taglist: @xhexy @mingisprincess @yeosangiess @itsvxlentine @biancaness @sanhwalvr @haebaragisworld @s-h-y-a @imgenieforyou-boy @therealcuppicake @certifiedmoa @scarfac3

@kitty4hwa @conwunder @wisejudgedragonhairdo @frobin4ever

REBLOGS + COMMENTS ARE WELCOMED AND ENCOURAGED

Milan, Italy.

You had been invited to participate in fashion week among the various other stars that attended the event. You were one of the people who reporters and other paparazzi were excited to see. You were one of the world's most popular models, after all: you were on the covers of multiple magazines and were the face of many brands.

So you were used to the flashing lights of the paparazzi and the reporters trying to pull you for an interview. You didn't mind, though, actually enjoying it.

"Y/N! Look over here please!"

You smiled, turning the other way so that the many cameras could capture your back and your face from a new angle. You were dressed to the nines and you were happy that everyone liked your outfit, especially since the designer was a good friend of yours.

You were soon escorted to your seat, having a front-row seat on the bright white runway you had grown used to walking on. You crossed your legs as you looked down at the various freebies the fashion show gave you, looking through the bright blue bag with interest in hopes of making the time flow by faster. You always found that just watching the show wasn't as interesting as walking was.

However, while you were so focused on your bag, you didn't notice the reporters and many paparazzi outside screaming and rushing at a long black limousine. The windows were darkly tinted, not allowing anyone to peek inside at the two stars who arrived. There had been rumors about two surprising stars attending the show tonight, but no one knew who. And now with the door opening, everyone got to get pictures of the stars.

"Mingi, San, can I pull you into an interview?"

San raised an eyebrow at the reporter before tapping Mingi's back, pointing to the interview area before whispering into his ear "Let's just do one interview like HongJoong said to."

Mingi rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, not happy about having to do an interview. Mingi just wanted to hurry up and take pictures then get to his seat; he was all for attention and good press, but the flashing lights tonight were too much.

Mingi and San were part of the world-renowned boy band "ATEEZ," the rock band that took the world by storm almost 3 years ago. Now, they were at the top of their game, but that also meant that they had to attend events like these. Usually, HongJoong, Seonghwa, and Yeosang would go to events like these, but they all were too busy to fly out, so that left Mingi and San to go as the others were also busy.

You had just placed your bag back down underneath your chair filled with goodies when you noticed the men approaching you, their custom-tailored suits giving your mind a perfect image of what could be underneath.

While you were checking them out, San and Mingi were doing the same thing, their eyes shamelessly checking you out as they moved to their seats that were on either side of you. Even though Mingi was wearing shades and you were facing forward, you could feel their eyes on you, undressing you as the last stars took their seats. You wanted to ask them questions, but you didn't know how to take their sudden attraction to you.

"Can you three move closer for a picture?" Your mental turmoil was interrupted by the photographer who looked at you hopefully. You nodded, feeling Mingi's hand slide behind your back as he moved closer to you. You silently gasped as San did the same, both of the men's hands on your bare back, their fingers feeling anywhere they could as they smiled for the picture.

"What's your name?" Mingi was now whispering into your ear as the photographer scurried away, the lights dimming as the show was about to begin. Your first attempt at responding was cut off by your silent gasp as both men's hands slowly moved down your back, their hands now resting dangerously low on your back, a smirk moving onto their lips at the feeling of you subtly arching your back for them.

"Y/N." Your name made San whistle lowly, his voice full of charms as his hand moved up your back, allowing Mingi to touch your lower back while he got to feel your upper back, his hand playing with the clasp on your necklace as he spoke so only you, him, and Mingi could hear. "You're a supermodel, right? I've heard all about you. I think I even own some of your magazines covers. I've always found you so hot, you know."

You felt your body stiffen at his words: He already knew about you? You turned to face San, only for Mingi's hand to grasp your jaw, making you face forward again as he whispered into your ear "You can't be giving San all your attention, Beautiful. You have to share between us, do you think you can handle that?"

When Mingi first asked that question, you were quick to answer yes. You thought you could handle teasing and talking between them both. You had sat around meeting rooms and kept conversations going with multiple people, so what was so hard about keeping conversation with two men?

But, that wasn't what he meant.

"Look up at us, baby girl."

You thought nothing of hanging out with the two rock stars after the fashion show, their lingering touches on your body almost drawing you into them as they walked with you to their limousine with the tinted-out windows. The minute the doors closed, though, their hands returned to your body, not even caring about the driver as they whispered all the things they wanted to do to you, especially together. You spent one part of the car ride on Mingi's lap, meeting his lips in a heated kiss while San bit your neck, leaving marks behind while his hands felt around your body before you switched to his lap, Mingi's lips now busy kissing your open back while San's tongue locked with yours in a heated kiss. They were skilled at riling you up, as if they'd done it before. You wouldn't put it past them, though.

But, now that they had you in their private suite in their hotel on your knees before them on the bed, you felt even more excited. Mingi licked his lips, turning to face San before he nodded his head, moving to get on the bed in front of you. He tilted his head as you turned around to watch San as he sat down in the chair facing the bed, making you feel confused. However, your view of him was pulled away as Mingi made you face him, his thumb moving along your bottom lip as he shook his head. "Don't look at San, babygirl. You have to worry about me first."

You nodded as your lips met Mingi's, the kiss picking up speed as San cursed from his chair, his hand moving to his pants. You couldn't help but kiss Mingi harder at the sound of that plus San unbuckling his pants. Mingi smirked, pulling back as his hands grabbed your wrists, placing your hands onto his own belt as he faced San with a proud smirk. "Seems like our little model likes hearing you, Sannie. I think she's getting excited."

"Oh, I think so Mingi" San rested his head back on the chair with a lazy smile, his hands now palming himself over his boxers as he watched you unbuckle Mingi's pants, your hands tugging away at it. You weren't even listening anymore as you leaned down to kiss and bite on Mingi's thighs as he pushed down his pants, making him hiss before his hand moved into your hair, making you look at him. Mingi didn't say anything, his eyes however showed how he felt though, darkening as he pushed down his boxers to reveal his hard cock. Mingi's hand moved from your hair to your lips, playing around with your lips till he spread them open, spitting into your mouth before humming.

"You're so pretty, babygirl. I can see why you're a model" Your eyes fell to Mingi's lip as he spoke, whimpering softly as he kissed you, both of your tongues meeting as you moaned, making Mingi moan as well. You whined as he pulled back, wanting more of his kisses. Mingi shook his head though, sitting back up as his fist wrapped around his cock, holding it to your lips. You knew what to do, about to dip your head down to taste his hard cock when Mingi's grip on your hair returned, stopping you. Instead, Mingi stood up from the bed, pulling you to the edge before he said "Make sure you get nice and loud for us, baby girl. Show me and San how good you can suck cock, and if you do good, we'll reward you."

You nodded, opening your mouth as Mingi fed his thick cock into your mouth slowly, both of you moaning at the feeling. Mingi felt so heavy, making you feel excited: you were no virgin, but none of the guys you had been with compared to how good Mingi's cock felt, even if it was just in your mouth.

"That's it baby, suck it." Mingi's voice had dropped even deeper, closing his eyes as you moved your tongue around his cock, bobbing your head at the same time, making him moan louder. "You're doing so, so good for me. That's right, take it deeper"

"Look at you, baby" You had been so focused on sucking Mingi and hearing his moans that you had almost forgotten about San, your eyes landing on him as he spoke to you, his cock leaking now as he had stripped himself. You moaned at the sight, the vibrations making Mingi moan loudly before he reached over to smack your ass, cursing that you were doing so fucking good. San chuckled at the sight of you staring up at him while Mingi was now fucking your throat, stretching you out with his cock.

"You must be so good at sucking dick, baby. I mean, you got Mingi short-circuiting and fucking your throat like you're a fleshlight," San laughed, Mingi's cheeks heating up a bit at his friend's teasing, but his pace didn't slow down. Instead, he picked up speed, making you choke. At the sound of you gargling around his cock, both boys moaned before Mingi pulled out to let you catch your breath. However, your break wasn't long before San rolled you over onto your back, straddling your chest as Mingi moved in between your legs.

"Don't look so nervous, baby" San cooed, his hands massaging your breasts as Mingi spread your legs, making you shiver. Suddenly, you closed your eyes and tossed your head back as you felt Mingi's tongue run slowly up your pussy before he moaned around your clit, pulling back to moan "Fuck, San, she's so wet for us. She's so excited."

"You're excited, huh?" San asked, gripping your hair to pull you back up to meet his eyes while Mingi got to work on eating you out, slurping away as his tongue tasted you. You nodded, moaning at Mingi's movements while San cooed again "I bet you are, our little filthy slut. You're a freak, just like us, huh? You acted all innocent when we proposed taking us both like this in the car, but now look at you." San licked his lips as he tightened his grip on your hair, pushing his cock into your mouth as Mingi continued to eat you out, pushing his finger into you.

"Mingi's finger and tongue is going to match the pace you set, baby" San hissed, leaning back with his free hand to place it onto Mingi's shoulder. Mingi looked up from your pussy, his eyes staring into yours as you began to bob your head on San's cock, moaning when his tongue began to match your pace: anytime you sped up, he sped up, and whenever you slowed down, he did the same.

San moaned above you, enjoying the show as he kept a firm grip on your hair and a grip on Mingi's shoulder. "Look at her, Mingi, look at how fucking dirty she is for us. Fuck, I can't wait to fuck that pussy" San had now tossed his head back at this point, knowing that if he watched anymore, he'd cum on the spot. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his cock down into your throat as deep as he could as you moaned loudly around it, Mingi's tongue mirroring San's cock by shoving his tongue as deep as he could into your pussy. Mingi rolled his eyes back, moaning as your pussy squelched around his tongue, curling his tip to nudge your sweet spot, making your legs shake a bit around him.

San couldn't think about anything else, his hand moving back to grip his pink-haired friend's hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy as you gurgled around his cock, your eyes rolling back as San sped up his pace, watching the drool leak from the side of your lips, now mixing with his cum as he came in your mouth, your legs wrapping around Mingi's head as you came as well.

Mingi cleaned you up happily while San slowly pulled out from your mouth, cooing as you swallowed his cum. Mingi slowly kissed up your body, his hands moving to massage your cheeks as San sat next to you. You felt like you were in a daze, laying your head next to San's knee while Mingi slowly got off the bed. San leaned down to kiss you, praising you for being able to take his cock so well against your lips. You smiled at his praise, moaning his name in the kiss before sitting up.

You sighed as you got off the bed, looking for your clothes while San got off the bed as well. You didn't bother to look at the two men, assuming that they were getting dressed as well. "What do you think you're doing?"

You paused picking up your dress off the ground at Mingi's voice, turning to see him standing by the large windows, his arms behind his back, his cock twitching between his legs as he raised an eyebrow. You bit your lip, noticing how San has returned to his chair, his hand now palming his soft cock. "I thought..."

"You thought wrong, baby." Mingi smirked, tapping the window before he said "I don't know what made you think that, but I still need to cum, especially in that fucking perfect pussy of yours." Mingi walked over to you as he spoke, his hand landing on the small of your back before he pulled you close, his lips pressing against yours as he pulled your clothes from your hand. You were once again at his mercy as he led you to the windows, his hands moving around your curves before he had you face the window. You met his eyes in the reflection, his chest now pressed against your back as his cock moved in between your soft thighs, a proud mumble coming out of his lips as he smacked your ass.

"Don't tease her so much, Mingi. She can barely even stand up" San piped up making Mingi chuckle. He nodded though, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he pushed into your pussy, chuckling when your hands rushed to the window. "There's nothing for you to grab on there, baby" Mingi laughed, his pace speeding up to become one of power as he watched your body jolt forward at every thrust, your sinful moans becoming music to both men's ears.

"Is our baby having trouble thinking and telling us what she wants?" San asked, standing up from his chair to approach where Mingi had you, his hands moving to play with your nipples, tugging on it. He chuckled as you moaned loudly, looking at Mingi as your back arched. "She's so fucked out already, maybe she can't handle more, Mingi"

"No, I can" You protested loudly, Mingi's hand landing a hard spank on your ass while moaning out "Yeah, she can handle more, fuck." You had closed your eyes at this point, your legs almost giving out due to the pleasure.

Mingi chuckled at the sight, pulling out from your pussy as you whined, grabbing your arms to pull you to the coffee table that sat in front of the couch that was in the corner of the suite, pressing your chest down against the cool table as he shoved his cock back into your pussy, both men moaning loudly as your pussy loudly squelched around him. "Your pussy welcomes me back in so loudly, baby. It wants my cock, baby, sucking it in so fucking well."

You nodded, San moving to crouch in front of you, smirking at your already fucked out face.

"I think she needs more, Mingi."

----------------------------------------------------------------

"God you're so fucking greedy."

You could no longer tell who was who as you laid against his hard chest, the other one still fucking deep into your pussy. You and the two men had been all around the room, your body and cum on many different surfaces, making you feel bad for whoever had to clean this room when they checked out.

San was laying against the floor, your body on top of his as Mingi fucked you from behind. You bit your lip as Mingi landed another spank on your ass, spreading apart your cheeks so he could go even deeper into you, his rings leaving imprints on you as you moaned loudly. You were out of your mind at this point, San chuckling at the sight before he said "You're so fucked out, you can't even tell who is who, can't you? You don't know whose cock you're backing up against and whose chest you're drooling onto. You just wanna keep coming until you pass out, don't you?"

"She tightened around me when you said that, San" Mingi moaned, your cheeks heating up as San cooed at you, landing his own smack to your ass as he moaned out "She's a freak, just like us. We should keep her on speed dial and fly her out to us whenever we want. We could buy you some pretty lingerie and make you model it for us. We could even invite the rest of our band members to come watch"

Mingi had lost his own mind a while ago, but at San's words, he felt his cock twitch at the idea, leaning forward to bite down on your shoulder, drilling into your pussy as you moaned even louder, San gripping your face to make you look at him while he continued speaking. "You'd love that, wouldn't you? You don't care how wrong this is, don't you, you like this. Maybe I'll even buy you a pretty custom butt plug and send it to you, make you stretch yourself out so that we both can fuck you at the same time."

"I'm gonnna...I" You gasped out, cuming hard around Mingi's cock as he filled you up, both of your releases coating his cock and leaking from your cunt as he kissed your back, rubbing your sides. You were completely spent, landing on San's hard chest as he ran his hands through your hair, cooing at you.

"You did so well, babygirl. Here, I'll clean you up." San waited till Mingi moved off your back before picking you up, carrying you to the bathroom (where they had fucked you an hour before), placing you onto the toilet before turning the shower on. "Go ahead and use the bathroom, then I'll shower with you."

After the shower, San carried you back into the bedroom, placing you down on the bed as Mingi had put down new sheets. As you lay down in the warm sheets, Mingi and San went to clean up themselves, letting you fall asleep in the bed. You only woke up when you felt Mingi hug you from behind, San slipping in front of you to offer you a smile before placing a kiss onto your lips, Mingi waiting till San stopped before moving your head back to kiss him as well.

The next morning when you woke up, you were no longer sandwiched between the two men, but you were alone. You sat up, running your hand through your hair as you tried to figure out if it was a dream or not. You sighed as you fell back against the bed, grabbing your phone to see a text from your manager letting you know that checkout was in two hours and to start getting ready to fly back to the States soon.

You hummed, giving yourself a few minutes before you stood up from the bed, walking over to your suitcase. However, before you could go shower, you heard a knock at the door, followed by room service being wheeled into your room. The table was full of various fruits and breakfast, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the center. When you picked up the flowers, you noticed a small card, the words on it making you smile.

'See you soon, baby. We'll be waiting for you ;) P.S: Hope your legs don't hurt too badly. M + S'

EXTRA

"Raise your hips, princess. Show me where you want my cock to go" You bit your lip as you raised your hips, your wetness leaking from your pussy, making Mingi moan. He considered himself addicted to your pussy, constantly wanting nothing more than to shove his hard cock into it and just ruin you. Heck, Mingi had even flown you out over the past couple months to whereever they were performing at to just do that as 'the pictures weren't enough for him.' Not that you were complaining.

You cursed softly as Mingi pushed his cock into you, his lips meeting yours as he picked you up to have your sit on his lap as he fucked up into you, his lips locked with yours.

"I knew I'd find her in here with you" San sighed, walking into the room as you turned from Mingi's lips, offering him a smile as Mingi continued to fuck up into you as he groaned out "you're just mad that you didn't get to her first, man. You had some of her on the plane, anyways. This is my first round with her"

San hummed as he kissed you, his hand moving to play with your breasts as you began to ride Mingi's cock, making him moan louder. "I wasn't complaining, just make sure you don't ruin her too much: I wanna take her outside and fuck her in the pool."

San and Mingi had flown you out to the Bahamas for your birthday, renting a private villa so that no one could see nor hear the three of you as you all went about your ''activities" together.

You bit your lip as you placed your hands onto Mingi's chest to ride him better, San's hands moving to grip your hips to help you as you tossed your head back onto his shoulder, kissing below his jaw as Mingi moaned at the sight. "Fuck, you're going to make me cum already. You learned so quickly how to ride my cock, princess."

"Well," San smirked, meeting your lips in a deep kiss, making out with you as your ground your hips down against Mingi's, San pulling back to make you look at Mingi, gripping your face as he said "She had some really good teachers. Isn't that right, Y/N? All you care about is riding our cocks and making us feel good, don't you?"

Mingi moaned loudly as you nodded, San's smirk growing before he whispered into your ear "then go ahead and make Mingi cum, baby. Then, you're going to sit on his face and we're going to teach you how to take care of both of our cocks at the same time. We've got all week, baby to go all around this villa, and we're not stopping."

Bambikisss | 2024

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

DEAR SPRING, STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of them.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up. 

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you? 

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes. 

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin. 

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now. 

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you. 

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses. 

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question. 

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips. 

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?” 

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog. 

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you… 

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away. 

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes. 

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms. 

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin. 

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour. 

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. i feel neglected in this household.”

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten. 

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun. 

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this? 

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning. 

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours. 

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd. 

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking. 

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up. 

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks. 

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come. 

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again — a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins.

and you smile.

(it’s springtime, now. a little warmer. 

here’s to another year together.)

[infimace-blog]

Thinking about rap as a technical artform and rap as a cultural artform, with respect to Tumblr's incompetence at dealing with either. Tumblr can just barely grasp the former because, like all forms of Black music, it's been repackaged in various ways that are more palatable to to white audiences. I talked last month about how what Tumblr was calling rap while trying to defend its taste in music is more akin to filk songs, but I should admit, sometimes Tumblr cites people who actually rap. It doesn't fix the problem or absolve them of their bullshit, but it is true.

The failure then becomes an inability to recognize or care about how rap functions culturally.

People on Tumblr will take Dungeon Meshi and intricately pick apart how a single chapter connects back to real-world neurodivergence issues and the cultural differences between the West and the East when it comes to handling them, and then look at any given rap song and assume it's skin-deep. Unless it's Hamilton back in the late 2010s, before we all decided it was cringe, in which case they'll gladly dig into the history of the early USA and, like the play itself, sidestep the racism whenever possible.

Take Weird Al, one of the many names that's been thrown around in Kendrick and Drake's wake. Weird Al is technically a rapper. He has done rap. We cannot ignore that as a factual statement. He's not even that bad as a rapper. But he has no engagement with rap as a cultural object; he engages with the artform as a parodist. "Amish Paradise", probably Weird Al's most popular rap parody, doesn't say anything; it's here to riff on a religious minority. But you dig into it just a little and you can see the kind of complexity that Tumblr usually loves to talk about. The song is, after all, a parody of Coolio's Grammy-winning "Gangster's Paradise", which is literally about being a black man in an environment dominated by organized crime and fearing the constant threat of death in that life, but was also created specifically for the movie Dangerous Minds, a middling white savior movie about Michelle Pfeiffer teaching a bunch of bad stereotypes of what people think inner city non-white students are. A movie that was, in turn, based on a white woman's memoirs about teaching in a bad school near San Francisco. You've got this interplay between a white woman's real-life efforts to teach her black and Latino students (I can't speak to how effective she was, mind you), a fictionalized version of that same woman being shown as the sole guiding light for her underdeveloped gangbanging students - and a white actress's crappy Kipling-ass 5/10 film getting Coolio his Grammy. It was tailor-made to be Coolio's big hit with white audiences, getting the push of Michelle Pfeiffer, having slow and deliberate rapping, and lacking the swearing in most of Coolio's oeuvre (Stevie Wonder mandated no swearing in return for letting Coolio sample his music). And, though I suspect this was unintentional, the song plays into the same narrative that the movie does, how this rapper is doomed to his life because "nobody's there to teach [him]", with dramatic choir and strings underscoring the dire fate that awaits this rapper if some charitable white person doesn't help him - the same dramatic choir and strings that Weird Al uses for comedic effect by comparing it to Amish farmwork.

I put that last paragraph together with two or three hours of Wikipedia, and you can do the same kind of analysis with a lot of hit rap songs (and Genius is right there if you need a helping hand - I wouldn't have understood much of Kendrick's Euphoria without it), and I think this drives a lot of my frustration? Tumblr loves to see something cool and then take a few days to write an in-depth post about how cool it is under the surface. So the lack of this when it comes to rap does show a deep disinterest in thinking about it when it isn't fun. And there's so much cool shit to learn about rap. Did you know that Baby Got Back was inspired by the anti-black fatphobia Sir Mixalot's model girlfriend was dealing with in her industry, and was pushing back against the media's general preference for skinny white women? Did you know that there's a Turkish hip-hop scene specifically in Germany because, as a minority that was brought to the country for cheap labor and then forced to exist as second-class citizens, they ended up relating a lot to the music? Just. Dig a bit. There's so much.

[angellayercake]

RITE HERE RITE NOW RANT

Where were the other Papas??⁉️? It isn't right that they had a combined thirty seconds of screen time!! 😡😡 If it wasn't for them Then copua wouldn't even this opportunity would he?🚫?

ANd to make it worse🤬 it was lonG‼️So there should have been more time.to. honour papas of the past🙌 but I have already made this point. I had to go to the BATHROOM🚽two times 2️⃣ because it was so long. also who wants tolook at him that long anyway👹

why??????❓❔⁉️ does he get so many outfits! Designer outfits twenty of the same jackets in different colours??🔵🔴🟡⚫🟢 some papas just wore their robes(boring) and some papas were forced to have their shirts sewn into their jackets with very improper tailoring just because ""if you INsist on white gloves that need To be changed every day we have to cut costs elsewhere👿"* but cooia gets two robes ANS everything else???

Papa Iii is much more handsome 🧛and would look much better in the hd4k surroundsound big screen then HIM SO papa iiI deserves a film more and they should bring jim back just to show everyone this😏 and go show the people what its like to see songs sang. Properly!!! you have not been ciriced until you have been ciriced by papa 3💜💜💟 or so I have heard snyway...

YHE ONLY THING that is good is that it accurately shows what a rude SELFish self absorbed man this cOPis is(although the old man deserves no respect 👍🏻👍🏻) just tonight he ate the last cannoli without offering to aNYONE!!! ELSE‼️‼️ SO this i do think the film does right

BUT....

The door slams open and he almost drops his phone in surprise. He was sat where he had been sat all evening, collapsed into this chair in the clergy commons after his disappointing dinner, thinking. His expression soured even further now it seemed another one of his brothers was here to ruin his day.

"Are you reading reviews of the movie again, frattelino?" Secondo asks, squinting at him across the dark room. "There is steam coming from your ears."

"I am not reading them no," he smirks a little, pushing the glasses he usually pretends not to need up his nose before continuing to tap away at his phone with his pointer finger. Secondo flicks on the light switch disrupting him once again with the blinding light so he shoots him a quick glare before resuming his somewhat frantic yet stilted typing.

"I do not like that look," he accuses, pointing at him as he crosses the room. "What are you doing then?" He circles the armchair in which Terzo is slouched, leaning around to look at the screen over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he pulls the phone to his chest to hide the screen. "Why must you stick your big old nose where it is not wanted eh?"

"Let me see!" He tries to wriggle away from his brother's seeking hand, tustling each other like they used to when they were children. He almost slides free but his escape is thwarted but his stupidly large brothers hand clamping onto his shoulder and pulling away his phone with the other.

"Give that BACK!" He struggles out of the squishy chair pushing his glasses back up into his hair so he can glare uninterrupted at his brother who is now scrolling through his review, shaking his head and tutting like a stupid old chicken.

"Terzo this isn't very nice," he says it so patronisingly he has to resist stamping his foot in frustration. Why should he be nice! He never got a moment like this and if he had he knows he would have done more, done better. And shouldn't Secondo be mad too?

"I stand by what I said," he huffs crossing his arms indignantly. "Aren't you annoyed? That we barely got a mention? Just that we were dead?"

"Well I would say I got about twenty of the thirty seconds we were on screen so how can I complain?" He expects the typical reaction he usually gets when he teases his brother but when Terzo instead, visibly deflates before flopping back into his chair he realises this might be a bit deeper than he thought.

"Terzo, come now, what is really the matter?" He moves to perch on the arm of the chair, handing him back his phone. When he doesn't respond straight away he reaches over to mess with his brother's habitually pristine hair, ruffling it into a birdnest as he used to before whenever Terzo got in his head and needed a distraction.

"Ay!" He shouts batting at his hand but at least he is glaring at him again instead of pouting dejectedly.

"I am happy for Copia, I suppose," he starts hesitantly smoothing his hair back into place. "It's just, we all worked hard too, and yes we may have not been as successful but without us to lay the ground work whose to say he would be 'rite here, rite now'." He waves his hands around, air quoting the title of the film dramatically.

"You are not wrong frattelino," he pauses before continuing trying to decide how to best console him. "But that is not what this story is about. It is about truly experiencing the moment you are in now, and not letting the times of the past or the what ifs of the future ruin it." His shoulders drop with a sigh so he wraps an arm around him squeezing him firmly.

"I just never got to..." He trails off but they both know what he was about to say.

"I know," he squeezes him again. "And none of that makes what they did to you right but that is in the past. People still love us no? We still have many praising us and screaming our names no matter what Copia does. We all have a place. Ours was over there, back then but who knows what the future will bring?" He stops when he sees his brother finally perking up.

"You are right I suppose," he shoots him a sideways glance. "This time at least." He picks up his phone and repositions his glasses on his nose. "I better delete all this then" He starts to tap away at the screen but Secondo stills his hand.

"I didn't say that," He says with a smirk. "You should add one about how his wig looks terrible."

"But Copia doesn't wear a... Oh!" They are far too old for this, Secondo thinks as they giggle like children coming up with more and more ridiculous complaints about the film. But right here, right now, he doesn't care.

[voidcat]

Blade & number 13 (trying to get the other to dance with them)

wc: 1k & gn!reader. reader is implied to be a stellaron hunter

a/n: posting this separately instead of answering the ask because tumblr decided to delete it(-:

The venue is bustling with noise and energy all around.

Everyone around is lost in the excitement, patiently waiting for the orchestra to return, for the grand party to start. All donned in tailored clothes, some going for masks, some for ridiculously big hats– a scene out of a movie or a novel, if you’d say so yourself. Were it not for your dearest partner’s grunts and huffs every once in a while to drag you out of the sweet dream.

Blade has been assigned to several missions back to back already, you’d understand the burnout and the exhaustion that comes with it. And still, no matter the work or the goals to tick off, you find a way to enjoy each moment– or so you console yourself, in the words of Silverwolf.

The muffled sounds stop in a sudden and a one, a two, a three– you can hear the famous orchestra starting the evening.

You cast a glance Blade’s way. Changed into something other than his usual clothes, the suit fits him perfectly. Elio had said it’d be wise to blend in, even though your jobs were minor compared to Silverwolf’s. Just keep an eye on, and maybe enjoy the evening, consider it a little gift. And grateful you were, practically giddy since you were informed of what the mission entailed.

Yet a part of you fears dragging Blade into all this, guilt sitting heavy at your belly. The lack of reactions, save for the occasional scoffs when someone dashes too close to him, do not help you once bit. A drink might help, or so you think and return with two glasses, offering one to him.

The drink melts on your tongue, relaxes all the muscles in your body. Known for its balls and events, even their drinks hold no competition. A glance Blade’s way and you can see him slowly sipping his drink, content just to see that much, hoping it might help his mood throughout the evening and until your departure.

Time ticks and by then, everyone in the grand salon has immersed themselves into dancing, swinging gracefully with the melody. The soft notes of the grand piano fills the air, the violins join in, even just from the sounds, you can picture the pianist’s fingers gliding off, flying off the keys, no longer just making music but crafting something sacred, something holy into life with mere presses.

The orchestra carries away the people, and with their melodies, they capture you too. You don’t notice Blade’s staring, nor him gently taking the glass off your hands and offering them to one of the servants making his rounds down there.

The melody rises and rises, picking up its face and with a snap, ends, taking your breath with it.

A moment’s pause and a waltz begins.

Turning hurriedly Blade’s way, hands balled into fists, you look so excited, stars in your eyes– he worries for a second if he got caught.

“Please.” you say in a whisper, and he looks at you with curiosity, please, what?..

“Just one dance, would you grant me this much?” you ask, hands dropping down, stroking the fabric of your outfit now, fiddling with the little embroidered details. Blade stands there, still silent, contemplating an answer, lips parted. “It’d help blend into the crowd too, you know… so we can keep not just an eye but also an ear out.” you try one last time, one last attempt. It feels easier to use the mission as an excuse than to admit you just want to stand closer to him, be like one of those couples you have been admiring for the past hour.

Eyes cast to the side, Blade avoids your gaze. Unsure how to feel when you followed with that excuse just to rationalize your request. Waiting and waiting, another song begins and draws close to an end and Blade realizes too late when he notices the signs of your fidgeting that he’s been making you wait, making you nervous and–

“Fine.” he says, his voice betraying the blunt answer and he reaches out his palm to you.

Eyes wide open, you freeze for a moment and snap out of it when he raises an eyebrow at you, slightly shaking his offered hand. With a skip to your step, you take his hand and a violin fills the air, lazy and faint.

The waltz begins softly, building up, and with it, so do the two of you.

Though you were unsure what to expect, Blade proves to be in control so far, taking the steps accordingly, swinging to the melody. 

It is a simple ballroom waltz, easy to pick up on after observing the people for the past hour. Seeing that the expression of surprise is still evident on your face, accompanying a soft smile, Blade feels a satisfaction blooming in his chest.

Were the purpose to truly keep an eye out and listen in, this would truly serve as the most ideal cover to blend in to the crowd– but too lost in your own little bubble, all the two of you can hear, feel, sense, see, and smell are each other; and the fairy-tale music that carries you throughout the ballroom with each step.

Blade holds you close and holds you gently, leading you into the dance, loosening his grip enough so you can dance freely. The dance goes on and you feel lost in his warm hold. For the first time in a long while forlorn eyes carry the gentle autumn breeze within their orbs, a man more than just the blade he wields, broken down to fragments. The melody picks up and Blade leads you for a spin, his other hand waiting in the air to pull you back to him–

In a sudden a loud crack echoes in the air.

The music halts, darkness overtakes the ballroom right after. The both of you frozen in place, Blade prepares to unsheathe his sword, his other hand standing over your skin still, keeping you close to his chest in a protective manner.

At the surprise of the moment for a second, the grand space is dead silent. And soon after follows people’s worried murmurs, followed by a scream that is never missing in such environments.

Silverwolf must be done with her part already. 

As you let out a sigh, you feel Blade’s hand relax on you, and returning to his side. Taking a step back, you copy the gesture and remove your hands from his frame. 

Time to bid goodbye to the fairytale it seems.

[yuujispinkhair]

Wildest Dreams

You're supposed to write an article about a charity event at The Shrine, the casino of the Itadori family, but soon get swept away by the Yakuza Prince himself. It's probably a bad idea to get close to a dangerous man like him, but he's so tall and handsome as hell. Why not allow yourself to live your wildest dream, at least for one night? -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event (closed). @cometcoffee103 requested the song Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift for Yakuza!Yuuji.

Pairing: Yakuza Prince!Yuuji x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut, Yakuza AU Word Count: 2k Warnings: 18+, a bit of smut (not very explicit), taking pictures during sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of organized crime. This story is set in the same universe as my Yakuza AU, but you don't have to read that to understand this story. All you need to know is that Yuuji is the younger brother of the Yakuza King Sukuna, and this version of Yuuji is a bit of a playboy, but in a very sweet and charming way ;) All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

The casino is bustling with people, all of them dressed to the nines, including you. But you feel out of place here, despite the nice dress you are wearing and the red lipstick you put on. Everyone around you is someone important, someone insanely rich or influential, politicians, actors, businessmen. And Yakuza.

You gulp hard. Your hand trembles a little as you bring your wine glass to your lips to take a small sip. You shouldn't even be here. You usually only write short lifestyle articles for your magazine. It was your boss' job to attend the charity event in The Shrine, the biggest casino in the whole city, the casino of the Itadori family, one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in the country.

But two hours ago, you received that fateful message: "Put on your nicest dress and hurry to The Shrine. I'm at the hospital and can't make it. I need you to write the article about the charity event. And try to add something personal about the Itadori brothers! That will get our readers hooked."

And so you are standing here, clutching your wine glass while trying to blend in with the millionaires around you, feeling the hairs on your arms stand up as you wonder how many of them are criminals.

You don't even see him coming until he is right in front of you, moving gracefully like a tiger. A broad smile lifts his lips, and golden eyes meet yours.

"Hey, don't you like the wine? Should I get you another drink?"

You take in a sharp breath. You know the man in front of you. Of course you do. 

Itadori Yuuji, with his pink hair and golden eyes. Tall and muscular in his tailored black suit with a pink dress shirt and black tie. Looking just as rich as he truly is with the diamonds sparkling in his ears and the gold rings on every finger. But the scars on his handsome face also tell a story about the other life he is living. His life in Tokyo's underworld.

He is one of the people you got sent here for. The Young Tiger. The Yakuza Prince.

Your heart flutters nervously. But you force yourself to get a grip and be professional. And so you clear your throat before smiling politely at him and shaking your head,

"No, thank you. The wine is perfect, Mr Itadori."

He blinks and then throws his head back and laughs heartily.

"Ahh, please don't call me that! I am Yuuji for someone as cute as you."

Oh?

For a moment, you are caught off guard by his directness and the shameless flirting. But the Itadori charm is well-known. Both Itadori brothers are infamous for being big flirts and playboys who collect women just like they collect fast cars and expensive jewelry.

He points at the press card dangling on a chain around your neck,

"You're here to write about the charity event? How lucky that you ran into me! I can tell you everything you want to know. Come with me!"

You hastily follow him, not daring to waste this chance to get the article your boss demanded from you. And also not daring to turn down the Yakuza Prince's offer.

You spend the next fifteen minutes in a fancy VIP booth while Yuuji answers your questions for your article. Though half of the time, he is blatantly flirting with you. He isn't shy about it. Clearly, a man used to always getting what he wants. The spoiled Prince of Tokyo's underworld.

But you have to admit that his boyish charm works on you. Somehow, his loud laugh and broad sunshine smile make him seem less intimidating than his name suggests. If you didn't know who he was, you wouldn't even be nervous around him. He is so sweet somehow, making you laugh and feel more at ease at this event where you feel so out of place.

And his good looks certainly work their charm on you, too. He looks dashing in his suit, which accentuates all his firm muscles. The undercut and the pink hair on top look sexy on him. You realize that you have unconsciously scooted closer to him.

His golden eyes look thoughtfully at you, making your heart jump. 

"You don't look like you enjoy this event very much. I hate these things, too. All those boring people who try to talk business with me, and no one dares say something funny. I don't know how Sukuna is able to endure this all the time."

He sighs and rolls his pretty eyes. The eyes that then land on the low neckline of your dress. His smile grows bigger, and your breath quickens. Yuuji's large, warm hand lands on yours, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey, cutie, let's leave this boring party, ok? Let's drive out of the city, away from the crowds. We can have some fun, and you can get an exclusive interview with the Yakuza Prince! Not just boring facts about this event, but more personal things. How does that sound?"

Everything in you screams to say no. It's insane to leave with the Yakuza Prince. He might not be as dangerous as his big brother Sukuna, but he is still a powerful Yakuza who can easily kill someone, as the scars on his pretty face prove. It's crazy to imagine getting in his car and driving to an unknown place with him. It's wild to imagine being alone with him.

But somehow, you find yourself biting your lip and nodding as you lift your head to look up at his handsome face. Somehow, your heart is beating so fast that you feel dizzy. Somehow, your skin tingles with excitement. You know you want to go with him. Even though you know there is a high chance this is going to take you down, you can't bring yourself to say no.

And so the words leave your mouth,

"Ok, let's go. Let's sneak away."

Yuuji smiles his bright sunshine smile at you, just as dazzling as the diamonds sparkling in his ears and the various gold rings on his fingers. There's a cheeky glint in his golden eyes,

"I'm very good at sneaking away."

He grabs your hand and pulls you with him, striding with fast steps through his casino, and starts running when you're halfway out the door, laughing loudly, as if he is relieved too to finally leave this fancy event behind. As if he is finally free.

He leads you to his car, a red Porsche, his favorite one, as he lets you know while he holds open the door for you, so charming that you can't help but feel light-headed from all the butterflies in your stomach.

Yuuji drives like someone who knows this city belongs to him. A bit too fast, the music a bit too loud, but it's perfect the way it is. It makes your pulse flutter and your body fill with a giddiness you can't remember ever feeling before.

You leave the city behind you, making an excited tingle start under your skin and spreading through your whole body. It feels like an adventure. Exciting, bubbly. As if your wildest dreams are coming true.

Yuuji parks his car on top of a cliff, turns off the engine, and turns to you with his big sunshine smile.

"So, what are your questions for me, princess?"

You laugh softly,

"Well, my boss said I should try to add something personal about you or your brother. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? Not about the Yakuza Prince. Tell me about Yuuji."

He smiles and leans closer to you, his large hand cupping your cheek while his golden eyes travel slowly over your face. His thumb caresses your cheek, the gold ring on it gliding smoothly over your skin. Yuuji's voice is low, and you can hear the smile in it,

"Then let me tell you a secret. I hate all those stiff, formal events. I rather want to go clubbing or play video games with my friends. I enjoy spending time at my pachinkos and making my best friend Megumi play the arcade games against me, even though I know I suck at those games. And I like to hang out at my pizza delivery service. I don't care that it's only for ... tax-saving purposes. I love pizza! I want to adjust the recipes and make the best pizza in the whole city! That is my new passion!"

His eyes glitter excitedly while his voice drops to a softer tone, low and almost seductive,

"And I like this here. What we are doing right now. Drive out of the city and look at the sunset. I know I can see it from my penthouse, too, but it's not the same."

His words could sound arrogant, the words of someone who grew up rich and has no idea how normal life works. But he doesn't sound like that. There's an almost melancholic tone to his low voice. As if this evening with you, where he ran from his obligations and the glittering fancy party, is his wildest dream, too.

A soft smile lifts your lips, and you catch yourself leaning into his large, warm hand as you look deeply into those gorgeous golden eyes,

"Then let's stop this stupid interview and just enjoy your free evening."

His answer is a broad, boyish grin that makes your stomach flutter. You chuckle when Yuuji leaves the car and comes over to your side, opening the door for you like a gentleman and offering his hand to lead you to the fence at the end of the cliff, where you have a majestic view over the ocean and the beginning of a beautiful sunset.

But your gaze strays to the man next to you. The Yakuza Prince. Or out here, just Yuuji.

You look at him, at his side profile, hit once again by how good he looks. So tall and handsome as hell in his tailored black suit with the light pink dress shirt and black tie. More stunning than any sunset could ever be.

Yuuji turns his head, catching you staring at him, and laughs happily as he reaches out to wrap a strong arm around you and pull you in front of him, making your pulse flutter with how easily he can manhandle you.

He stands behind you, so tall and strong, his muscular arms wrapped around you, holding you safely, his body pressed against your back, warm and buff. You can feel his firm muscles and smell his sexy and expensive perfume.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his kisses on your neck.

You tilt your head back to rest against Yuuji's shoulder as you look up at him and are met with a smile even more beautiful than the sunset.

A warm, large hand cups your chin, and then soft lips capture yours in a slow, sexy kiss that makes your knees weak. Who would have thought that the Yakuza Prince would be so gentle when he kisses you for the first time?

You have no idea how long you kiss him. You get lost in the feeling of his warm lips on yours and his tongue caressing yours with those deep, sexy flicks. Your hand is tangled in his pink hair as if you don't ever want to let him go again.

The two of you only pull apart to watch the rest of the sunset, with Yuuji's arm around you as you lean against his strong body, unable to stop smiling while your pulse races and your heart hammers in your chest, your skin tingling all over from the sheer craziness and excitement of it all.

+++

"Do you want to spend the rest of the night with me?"

Your heart misses a beat at Yuuji's question. You feel dizzy when you turn around in his arms to look up at his handsome face.

The deep scars across his nose and on the side of his lips tell you about the dangerous life he leads. His title tells you about how dangerous he himself is. You know he is bad, so so bad. But you cannot bring yourself to turn him down when he smiles that big smile at you. You cannot say no to him when every fiber of you craves him, if only for one night.

And so you nod and place a hand on his broad chest, playing with his black tie as you breathe softly,

"Yes, I can't think of anything else I would rather do."

And he smiles that attractive boyish smile at you and leans down to kiss the corner of your lips,

"I will always remember this evening. The pretty sunset, with an even prettier girl. You in that dress, with your red lipstick and the sweet kisses. Please tell me you'll always remember it, too."

You nod happily before cupping his cheeks with your hands and getting on your tiptoes to kiss him again, breathless and passionate, before whispering against his lips,

"Say you'll see me again after tonight, Yuuji."

And his arms tighten around you, strong and muscular, and he nods,

"Of course I will."

You don't hesitate when he leads you back to his car and holds the door open for you. You smile when his large hand lands on your thigh on the drive back to the city, slipping under your dress to caress your inner thigh, dangerously close to your already-soaked panties, making your heart beat wildly as you grab the leather seat. 

You giggle breathlessly when he leans over and kisses you at a red light, making your head spin with the sexy flicks of his tongue before he pulls away again.

You eagerly say yes when he asks if he can accompany you to your apartment. Your dress is already halfway off by the time you manage to unlock your door in between passionate kisses.

You moan when Yuuji's large hands knead your ass and his warm lips suck on your neck. You palm the hard bulge in the Yakuza Prince's fine suit pants all too happily, gasping at how big and hot he feels. You leave a trail of clothes on your floor, leading to your bed, where you spend the best night of your life.

Ruffled sheets, the rhythmic beating of your heart in synch with the headboard banging against the wall. Yuuji's heavy body on top of you, pressing you down so deliciously into your sheets. Loud laughter, even louder moans, and dirty whispers in your ear. Kisses and lipstick marks all over his tan skin. His clothes on your bedroom floor, your hands in his pink hair. Every inch of you brimming with pleasure while you're tangled up with Yuuji's strong body all night, finding utter bliss on his sweet mouth and his gorgeous cock. Smiling when he asks you to please let him take a picture of you while you ride him.

Tomorrow morning, he will leave, get in his sportscar, drive back to his fancy penthouse, and continue to live his fast life as the Prince of Tokyo's underworld. You don't know if this will only be one night and you'll never stand before him in person again after this. But you know you both will always remember this night.

And you will see him again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams.

AAAHHHHH thank you so much for this prompt, babe!!! I was so happy to write for Yakuza Prince Yuuji again aaaahhh!! I am crushing so much on him all over again omgggg 💗💗💗 I NEED HIM BAD!!!

I hope you liked staring at the sunset and staring at sexy Yuuji ;) Please let me know what you think!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[k4ychiko]

How would look cultists (Old faith) Look in your Cotl band au? And bishops? And how they Role change?

I NEED ANSWERS

Heres their full ref sheet!

Ive made a bunch of doodles and art (under the #cotl band au tag) but i'll be planning to make more art of them! Theyre very dear to me..

I'll write some stuff down here about the characters

Keep in mind this au is not related to scott pilgrim 😭😭 just cus i drew lamb in that poster doesnt correlate to the show pls thank you!!

So since its a modern au, Some stuff might not be similar to the original lore in the game such as the bishops injury and what not lol

-

Shamura - multi purpose

They learned to play a lot of instruments at a very young age, and passed their talent to their siblings. Shamura thought of teaching them only as a hobby, not fully knowing well that they'd form a band.

Shamura couldn't finish their education because they needed to be the one providing for their younger siblings. They work as a tailor.

But despite it all Shamura is still very wise and smart.

Shamura is 31.

-

Kallamar - keyboard and backup

kallamar's voice has always been my favourite because of how soft and melodic it sounded in the game. So not only is he a keyboardist, but also a backing vocalist too.

He's in a polyamorous marriage. Two wives and 1 husband. (Kallamar also has a son.)

And because of his family, kallamar couldn't attend in majority of their band practices

He's hard of hearing. Knows sign language.

Kallamar is 27.

-

Heket - bass

Heket can speak, but prefers to appear mute to the audience.

She speaks using sign language. Everyone in the band knows sign lanuage.

Heket is currently in college learning mechanical engineering.

She's bisexual. And currently dating someone. (Not revealing who just yet)

Sozo and Heket are very good friends. Enjoying tea time together and talking a lot of things. Mostly about mushrooms and family.

She's 22.

-

Leshy - drummer

Leshy and yellow cat (named Fian in this au) are dorm roommates and best friends. Some believe they are more than friends.

All his chaotic energy and anger goes to banging on those drums. Shamura thought it was meant to be.

Leshy studies biology. People didnt believe him when he revealed he's one of the top students in his college.

He has a really good memory. Memorized the drums layout immediately after losing his vision.

Hes 20.

-

Narinder - lead guitarist

Dropped out of college to focus on the band. Bad decision really.

Aym and Baal were the only nerdy fans to get close and have a sweet relationship with nari. Like he's their uncle.

Narinder and Lamb used to date when they were 20. They broke up because of miscommunication (and many more reasons). they are in good terms 3 years later.

Lamb had moved on from their relationship, but nari hasnt.

-

Lamb - Lead singer

Lamb can do a death metal scream, dont let that innocent look fool you.

They were recruited in the band by narinder and became the leader.

Ratau adopted Lamb

Lamb's songs are somewhat religious and has a cult vibe. But sometimes they focus about relationships and struggles.

Lamb and Goat are really great best friends. Maybe even more than best friends.

-

If u guys wanna know more feel free to ask me!

[stellar-skyy]

Could I order a hot white tea for Aventurine? If you can also add angst to confort please 👀

“order up! i have a white tea for aventurine, fresh and hot!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: At a work event, your coworker offers you a dance. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. aventurine x gn!reader. reader & aven are coworkers. mild angst & fluff. 1.6k words. iii. A/N: thank you for the order! i hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t their plan to hide in the corner all night, but it was where they ended up; drink clutched in both hands, shoulders hunched tightly, and eyes cast to the floor. All around them, their colleagues and fellow members of the Interastral Peace Corporation mingled and danced, filling the night with a dull drone of chatter and laughter. Around the groups and pairs scattered across the hall, were those few idly loitering on the outskirts like shadows, themself included.

They could busy themself for a while pretending to survey the hors d'oeuvres arranged on the table, but soon enough they would catch someone’s attention. Then would come the questions of why they were avoiding people, and the feeble attempts to drag them into a conversation they had far too little energy to engage in.

A charity ball, organized by their colleagues and funded by the ICP themselves. It seemed like a perfect idea when it was pitched, all up until they were standing alone in a crowded room, trapped in layers of formalwear the dug into their sides. The festivities grew all too much after a while, leaving them exhausted and weary of every greeting and smile.

It was much easier to turn their back on the other guests and ignore them for however long they could manage. That way, they weren’t forced into mindless small talk, or dragged into a half-hearted dance with any of their coworkers. They were fully content on spending the rest of their evening on the sidelines alone, without anyone to disturb their—

“Ahem.”

Peace.

The voice tore straight through their attempt to sink into the background, silky smooth and laced with the slightest trace of amusement. They lifted their head up, hands tightening around the drink in their hands and lips forming his name before they even had to look at him.

“Aventurine.”

The man smiled. He was dressed much more formal than usual, decked out in a three-piece suit with a deep green tie. It was tailored, cut and shaped around each part of his body to fit him perfectly. The outfit was simple, but it suited him well; even in a room of people dressed in their finest, he managed to outshine every one of them.

“You’re certainly hidden well, aren’t you?” Aventurine remarked, plucking a canapé off the table beside them and popping it into his mouth. “How long have you been here? An hour? Two?”

“I wasn’t hiding—” They tried to say, before they were cut off with a laugh.

“You can lie, but not well enough to fool me.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t make excuses. I really don’t care that much.”

The music changed suddenly, turning from a light jazz to a slower tune, complete with sweeping violins and deep echoes of a cello. Like clockwork, the few folks dancing in the centre paired up—both actual couples who had attended together, and coworkers who hurriedly joined together in time for the song to start.

Aventurine cleared his throat again. When they turned to him, there was a look in his eye that told them he was planning something.

“I did have something I wanted to ask, however. May I have this dance?” he asked with a small smile, hand outstretched.

They bit back any retort that might have been on their tongue, as he stood waiting their response with a glint in his eye. It was a challenge, like everything was with him; a bet to whether their pride outweighed their self-consciousness. They could almost see the dice rolling behind his eyes, breath held in anticipation.

If it was a game he was playing, they would be happy to indulge him, if only for an evening. It wasn’t as though they had anything else to do, other than waiting idly in the corner for the music to die down and the guests to leave. They could spare whatever was left of their energy for a few minutes of dancing.

“Of course,” they said, taking his hand. A look of surprise crossed his face for only a moment before it was replaced with a wider grin.

“Ah, I knew I came over here to a reason,” Aventurine smiled, leading them away from the corner and into the lights.

They were uncomfortably aware of each eye fixed on their back, but Aventurine was unfazed; his hand was firm in holding onto theirs in a surprisingly gentle grip. His gloved thumb softly stroked the side of their hand, a move that was much too close to romantic for their liking.

“Are you ready?” he asked, when they reached the floor.

“Yes,” they said instantly, and hoped it wasn’t a lie.

He laced his fingers through their hand, sliding his other over their hips. A heat flushed across their face—the result of the stuffiness inside the venue, no doubt—and they fumbled to place their hand on his shoulder.

“You act like you’ve never danced before,” he laughed.

The music swelled, and Aventurine began to lead their dance. One step, then two and three. He was surprisingly adept at sweeping them across the floor, out of the way of the rest of the dancers, while keeping up their pace.

Together they twirled and spun, in time as the music sung a chorus for them and them only. The rest of the guests faded away, until the two of them were alone on the dancefloor, held tightly in each other’s arms. It crossed their mind, for a moment, that the scene was something more suited to a couple than a pair like them. They wondered if he was thinking the same, whether he thought it odd that they were so close. Was he regretting his choice of dance partner, or feeling thankful he asked them?

They found themself glancing around them throughout, but oddly enough Aventurine’s eyes never left them. He seemed transfixed, watching them carefully as they seemed to melt into the dance.

“Are you ready?” He asked abruptly, just as the music reached a crescendo.

“What?”

“Are you ready?” He repeated in lieu of an explanation.

“Ready for wh—” they tried to ask, but were suddenly pulled into a spin. He let go of their waist, long enough to twirl them around as they squeaked in surprise. Their head was reeling by the time he pulled them back, holding them even tighter so they didn’t fall over.

“Ready to be spun,” he clarified, a moment too late.

“Yeah,” they breathed, hand clinging tightly to his shoulder to balance themself. “Yeah… I got that, now.”

The two of them whirled and spun for some time more—was it minutes? Hours? It was long enough for the music to change again, into an equally slow but slightly more melancholy song—before he spoke up again.

“You’re not a fan of dancing?” Aventurine asked, an eyebrow raised. The question was posed in his usual lilting voice, but there was a note of concern in his tone that wasn’t present in the moments before.

“Why do you ask?”

Aventurine paused to spin them past another dancing couple—a woman who was giggling far too loudly, and a man who seemed like he would rather be anywhere else—before continuing. “Well, for starters you haven’t made eye contact with me for more than a few seconds this entire time. You keep looking down at your feet.”

The music swelled. Aventurine abruptly pulled them into a low dip, leaning down so their faces were close enough that they could taste his breath. Their heartrate spiked, loud enough to drown out the music, but not enough to mask Aventurine’s voice.

“Is something wrong, [Name]?” He whispered into their lips, and all of a sudden they couldn’t breathe.

Not while you’re here was their first thought, but it was something far too raw to speak out loud, and only a half-truth. Aventurine’s presence had managed to quell some of the discomfort eating away at their stomach, but he was only a pretty distraction to the uneasiness that threatened to sweep them off their feet in the worst way. It whittled away at their already cracked mask of indifference, leaving them desperately holding the pieces together.

The eyes were still there, watching. They tracked their every move, noting each way they tilted further into his body to shield themself from their sight. He noticed too, pulling them up and out of the dip and turning them away from the people staring.

“Can we just go?” They whispered hollowly. He blinked, seeming to be caught off guard by the defeat in their voice. The shift in his demeanour was immediate, like a switch had been flipped.

“Of course, let’s—” Aventurine cleared his throat, standing straighter. “Let’s go.”

His hand rested on their lower back, guiding them out of the ballroom. The eyes never left, but Aventurine met them with a glare, and slowly they turned their gaze.

 “After you,” he said, opening the wide doors and beckoning them through. And in the open air, they remembered to breathe. “Now, is something the matter?”

They shifted in their steps, tugging on the edge of their sleeves. Was something the matter? It was a perfectly reasonable question, especially since they dragged him out of the event so suddenly, but they were at a loss for an answer.

“I don’t know. I just—” They let out a shuddering breath. “I just wanted to leave.”

Aventurine hummed. “I suppose that’s something enough.”

“I’m sorry,” they whispered.

“No apologising,” he chided, flicking them lightly on their arm. “You can’t be expected to want to be social at every moment. It’s not like I was inclined to spend my entire evening talking to my coworkers.” He shook his head. “Let yourself breathe once in a while, okay?”

“…I guess.”

“Come on. Let me walk you home.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[shuugumi]

ex-husband! gojo satoru has two left feet. whether he's on the dance floor at a wedding or a party or even during living room dance parties his dance moves are a unique blend of awkwardness and enthusiasm.

your daughter has also seemed to take after her father's genes of the two left feet. you watch from your assigned table the two hand in hand trying to moonwalk on the dancefloor. the two of them acting like seasoned dancers on dancing with the stars until satoru takes a few steps back and loses his balance. stumbling himself although in utter surprise his daughter helps him sturdy himself.

you watch the two dance on the dance floor as you take sips of water from the assigned seating you were sat at. giggling and smiling away at the two having fun and enjoying themselves.

“he’s cute isn’t he?” one of the guests at the wedding blurted out to you as she sat down next to you in satoru’s seat. you nod, “he is, isn’t he..” you trail off, looking back onto the dancefloor to seeing satoru holding kara in his hands, bouncing away to the hip-hop song playing.

it warmed your heart.

you’ve never had days like this. seeing satoru so care free and enjoying himself. enjoying not worrying about being ready to save a person from evil curses. satoru wore his sunglasses along with a perfectly tailored black suit; white button down shirt that hugged his biceps so deliciously.

you were too in thought to notice them waving at you. “daddy!!” kara shouted after she was startled by satoru showering her with kisses all over her face, using her small but growing hands to push away the love bombing father.

“daddy? is that his child?” the woman asked and you looked back over to her, “mhm…that’s our child. we’re divorced though.” you answered and the womans face was in awed. “divorced? how could you divorce that hunk?” she exclaimed and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“if only you knew..” you trail off, chuckling at the past memories that flashed through your mind that until the DJ had announced for all the couples to fall into the dance floor with their partners.

“you don’t mind if i ask him for a dance?” the woman asked and you shook your head, “not at all, go ahead!” sparking with a smile the woman walks towards satoru and kara. the woman talking to satoru and you watch. that until your daughter comes running up to you.

“hey lovey! you and dad having fun?” you giggle as kara runs into your legs and you pat her on the back. “so much fun! i love when we all together!” kara exclaims as you bring her up to sit on your lap.

“may i have this dance?” his voice was, serious. determined that he would have this dance. you looked up to seeing satoru standing in front of you with his hand out. a light smile appearing on his face.

“me?”

“of course. it’ll be like when we got married…for old times sakes.” he says, gesturing his hand out again and you were hesitant. “go mama! dance with daddy!” kara commanded, satoru and you laughed. swiftly grabbing his hand after and putting kara in place of you on your seat.

“stay there my love.” planting a kiss on kara’s head, satoru guides you to the outter part of the dance floor so that the two of you would still be in close presence to kara in case anything happened.

endlessly by alina baraz had started playing. your heart started to accelerate, feeling warm memories of your own wedding day. satoru snaked his arms around your waist and subconsciously your arms found a way around his neck.

it was quite for a little. “this song played at our wedding too. it was our first dance song if i remember correctly.” satoru spoke, breaking the silence and you nervously look up to his crystal eyes. “you…remember?”

satoru chuckled before tightening his grip on your waist, “how could i not? i got married to the love of my life…”

blood rushed to the apples of your cheeks as you thought about everything that satoru had been through and the reason why you divorced him. it made you feel…sad and sefish. bringing your body closer to him, resting your face on his chest he also finds a resting spot in the crook of your neck.

“i am sorry satoru.” you utter into his suit as the you both swayed in unison to the next slow song that had been queued. “i still have you in my arms even if we aren’t together…i got a beautiful daughter out of it. don’t gotta be sorry for anything.”

it was quite as you two embraced each other. swaying on the moonlit dance floor as the playlist of slow love songs continued to play. moments like these made you long for these experiences once more but you knew it couldn’t always be like this.

at the end of the day, satoru and you still love each other deeply even if there are still unspoken and unresolved problems that hinder your relationship to ever being what it once was. you still find yourself slipping on the engagement ring satoru presented to you all those years ago before going to bed. and satoru finds himself always, slipping on his wedding band no matter where he goes.

“why didn’t you agree to dance with that other attractive woman? she was into you y’know…”

“cuz i didn’t want to dance with her. i wanted to dance with you dummy. stop trying to be a wingwoman, i only ever want you.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 31: Your Song

Word Count: 999

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: None

Summary: Part of my As You Wish universe! Ryan performs a very special song with some very special guests in the middle school talent show.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

The murmur of the audience greets you and your husband as he yanks open the door to the middle school auditorium. You step in first, Eddie right behind you as you walk down the aisle, closer to the stage. 

“Oh, there’s Steve,” Eddie points out, gesturing to where the man is seated with his wife. You give them a small wave and Steve returns the gesture with his camcorder in his hand. “He said he’ll make a copy of the tape for us,” Eddie adds. 

“What’s Natalie doing?” you ask as you scan the rows of seats for two free ones.

“Uh, dancing, I think.”

There’s a pair of seats available in the middle of the eighth row and you and Eddie gladly take them. As your husband shucks out of his leather jacket and gets comfortable in his seat, he notices your fingers twisting together in your lap. He reaches over and softly rests one of his larger hands over both of yours. 

“Everything is fine. Wayne can handle both of them,” Eddie reminds you in a calm voice.

“I-I know,” you say, voice catching because of your damn fluctuating hormones. 

Tonight is the first night you and Eddie have been out together since Eliza was born. She’s three months old now and, like Eddie said, there’s not a doubt in your mind that Wayne can handle both her and Luke. But knowing this is the first time Eliza is without either parent is hard. 

Taking a deep breath, you nod your head and try to sink comfortably into your seat. 

“Were you ever able to get out of Ryan what his act is tonight?” you ask, if for no other reason than to try and keep your mind occupied. 

“Nope,” Eddie says. “Just said that we’ll see, and that Steve was driving him here early so he could practice.”

There isn’t a chance for you to respond because the lights in the auditorium dim and a woman dressed in a brown pantsuit walks on stage. 

“Hello! And welcome to Hawkins Middle School’s 2004 Winter Showcase Talent Show!” the woman says. “I’m Principal Abernathy and we are delighted to have all of you here with us tonight to see what these talented students have prepared.”

After watching students juggle, jump rope, do karate, and perform bird calls, a familiar name is called.

“Please welcome Natalie Harrington, Eve Sawyer, Catherine Click, and Maria Armas.”

An enthusiastic “Woo!” comes from the other side of the auditorium and you chuckle under your breath at Steve’s excitement. 

The lights come up and there’s Natalie on stage, along with three friends. 

Hey now

Hey now

The girls start slowly, striking different poses as the opening words repeat. 

Have you ever seen such a beautiful night 

I could almost kiss the stars for shining so bright

The girls are surprisingly good. You can’t take your eyes off of Natalie. 

The audience applauds as the routine ends and you glance over at your husband to see the same proud gleam in his eye that you know you must also have.

Three more acts go by before the moment you and Eddie have been waiting for arrives. 

“Up next is Ryan Munson,” Principal Abernathy announces. “With a little help from some special guests.”

You and Eddie turn to one another, confused. The maroon curtain moving onstage catches your eye and you both look back to where Ryan has stepped out. 

Nerves are written plain as day across your son’s face. 

Eddie notices a particular detail before you do, and his snicker has you looking over at him quickly.

“What?” you whisper.

“He’s wearing one of my old coveralls from the garage,” Eddie says, nodding to the twelve-year-old.

And sure enough, a navy jumpsuit that’s obviously been tailored to fit the smaller boy is Ryan’s costume of choice for the show. 

From behind his back, Ryan brings out a microphone and shakily holds it up to his mouth. 

“One, two…” he says softly. 

On his count, the curtains part and a very familiar melody begins to fill the auditorium. Both you and your husband have to do a double take when the curtain is finally open and the three members of Corroded Coffin are up on stage, backing Ryan up. 

Gareth is upstage with his drum set, and Jeff and Frank are both strumming their respective instruments. Ryan looks over his shoulder and you notice Gareth give him a wink. That’s just the courage Ryan needed, evidently, to begin singing.

Uptown girl

She's been living in her uptown world

I bet she's never had a backstreet guy

I bet her mama never told her why.

Your postpartum hormones instantly flood your eyes with tears. A hand comes up to cover your mouth as the influx of tears begin cascading down your face. Eddie’s strong, warm hand winds its way into your free one and you hold on to it like a lifeline. 

Ryan knows this is your and Eddie’s song. He knows how much it means to you. And he chose to perform it in the talent show. Somehow, he even managed to keep it a surprise until now! The Corroded Coffin guys are the sprinkles on this already sentimental sundae. 

Emotions overwhelm you, and Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulders as the song finishes up. 

My uptown girl

Your hands hurt from the enthusiasm you put behind applauding. 

Your oldest son takes a bow as the crowd cheers for him. He’s beaming—a triumphant look on his face as if he can’t believe he really just did that. 

Microphone in hand, blue coveralls, and an adorable, dimpled grin. It’s like you’re looking at a miniature Eddie up on that stage. Pride beams out of your every pore and one glance at your husband, and you know it’s the same for him. Eddie actually wipes at his eyes before turning his head to face you. He grins and licks his lips before speaking.

“That’s our boy.”

[honourablejester]

Apropos of absolutely nothing, can I talk about the Let Me Be Good To You scene from The Great Mouse Detective (1986)?

For the uninitiated, this movie is a Sherlock Holmes adaptation. Ish. In the skirting boards of the Baker Street, while human Holmes and Watson do their thing in Victorian London, a mouse detective named Basil and his recently recruited medical companion Dr Dawson investigate a mystery in Victorian mouse London. Vincent Price stars as Professor Ratigan, the evil Moriarty equivalent, and it’s a hell of a fun time.

And. In the middle of this fun mousey romp through Victorian London, we get the above scene. Basil and Dawson are undercover at a seedy dockside bar trying to find a peg-legged villain, and in the midst of an almost-bar-brawl, the piano player hastily starts a down-turned tune to draw attention, and Ms Kitty enters the stage.

And. Okay. I’m going to put aside for one second that this is happening in an animated kids movie. Put that to one side. I just want to look at the song.

Because this song is so fun, and so kind, and so empathetic, and so fucking cynical. It’s so targeted, and so tailored, and so clearly designed for purpose.

Because she doesn’t just offer sex, although that is pretty clearly and cheekily implied (“I’ll take off all my blues”, from a woman in an entirely blue outfit) later on. She offers sympathy. Empathy. Comfort. Understanding. She starts out ‘dearest friends, dear gentlemen’ to a bar teetering on the verge of full on violence and mayhem. And she’s listened to. Because she follows up with implicit understanding. “Life down here’s been hard for you, life has made you strong”. You tough guys, you’re feeling all alone. You rough guys, the best of you sailors and bums, all are my chums. She’s talking to them, to their understanding of themselves, and she’s promising that she understands them too, that she’s not put off by them, that she will comfort them. “You won’t be misunderstood, let me be good to you!”. It’s not a, if you’re good I’ll let you in, it’s a, I know who you are and I’ll be there regardless.

She is selling such a tailored fantasy. Talking directly to her audience, to their inner understanding of themselves. In the middle of an incredibly seedy dockside bar that’s two seconds away from exploding into violence, she comes on stage and offers not just sex, but sympathy, understanding and comfort. Softer things. Gentler things. And, the thing is, she’s bang on. She’s read them completely right. They listen to her. The violence tones down. Men take their hats off for her. When it revs up again, when it turns violent again two seconds after she’s done, she’s still perfectly safe and perfectly triumphant up there. She sold such a perfect fantasy. She was bang on.

And it’s so, so, so fucking cynical, because she was sent on stage, in the context of a bar that is drugging people even as she sings to sell them to a criminal overlord, to do exactly that. She was so clearly sent on to control the crowd, to bring the mood back from immediate violence, to tone it down, and then to rev it back up in a happier direction. Ms Kitty is offering the perfect fantasy, talking to the gentleman in need of comfort in her customers, while the bar staff are moping up unfortunate ends behind her. And the second she’s finished, the violence comes flooding right back in. Her song is the perfect fantasy. And this is the seedy reality.

And I just. I want to bring it back. This is happening in the middle of an animated kids movie. This perfect window onto sex work, entertainment, night life, crowd control, violence, machismo, the softer fantasies that even the roughest people might have, and the way those fantasies are then promptly used to lull and control them. This is a children’s movie.

It’s not just that there’s a stripper mouse in a kid’s movie. It’s that her song was also a fantastic and vicious look at how shelter and desire and empathy can be cynically used to control people in the context of sex and entertainment, and how in context of the darker sides of life, the gentlest, kindest song can be the coldest and most cynical of gambits.

Like. They didn’t have to go that hard, you know?

Anyway. Carry on.

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 5

Summary: Reader returns to her childhood home only to move to a new home the next day. How will she cope?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DUBCON to Consensual, AFAB reader, Smut (p in v, oral sex f&m receiving, orgasm denial, teasing, creampie, Dom vibes, choking, food play?), verbal arguments, cursing, tension, feelings of anxiety, feelings of hate, manipulation, Aemond not being a total jerk at the end? Lmk if there’s any I missed!

Word Count: 4790

A/N: This was split off of part 4, then I added some smut. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Your childhood bed was warm and stiffer than you remembered but you slept well regardless. Something about being home, being safe, surrounded by familiar smells and sounds, allowed you to fully rest, but now, the sun had long since risen and it was time for a nostalgic breakfast. 

Pulling on some pajama shorts and a crewneck sweatshirt, you drug your sleepy self from bed, lumbering down the steps to the living room, rubbing your eyes. The smell of bacon permeated through the small cottage home  and as you neared the bottom of the steps, you heard your mother call your name from the kitchen as she had when you were growing up when breakfast was early ready; allotting you time to get out of bed and get downstairs before the food went cold. 

Sleep wouldn’t quite leave your eyes and you reached up to rub the drowsiness from them with your sweatshirt sleeve, yawning. Your mother scolded you lightly, “Dear, we have company, you should go upstairs and change-”

Your arm dropped from your face quickly to find that evading your nightmares wasn't an option in this personal hell of a life you were sentenced to. 

Silver hair. Eye-patch. Finely tailored suit.

Maybe that song your dad used to sing in the back garden was right, maybe the devil does in fact wear a suit and tie. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is flat and devoid of fear despite the fact you very much were filled to the brim with it. Maybe anger at him invading such a sacred place of yours took precedent… finally.

Your mom turned around with a hand on her hip, “That’s no way to speak to your-”

Aemond raised his hand, silencing your mother with a soft smile. The action made you nauseous; no one silences your mother so easily. “Please, it’s alright.” He turned to you, “I came here to meet your parents and ask formally, this time, for your hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at your mom. She shook her head with a sweet smile, “Honey, if you were running here because you were scared of marriage, you should have thought of that before you got pregnant. Now here, Mr. Targaryen is trying to make things right.”

‘Trying to make things right’ felt like a stab in the gut, fueled by betrayal. 

“Mom I-”

Aemond cut you off, “Perhaps we can speak alone?” He looks over to your mother with the smile of a snake and she returns it, mayhaps without the reptilian features. 

“Of course, I’ll be out in the back garden with your father,” she tells you before she wipes her hands on her apron and exits the room. 

You stare at Aemond as he stares back at you with his lone eye. He hears the backdoor open and shut before he speaks. “I told you to stay.”

You pull up a chair opposite of him. “Like a dog,” you bite back. “What did you tell my parents?”

A sly smirk pulls at his lips, “I think you understand the predicament we’re in.” He leans back, grabbing his teacup and bringing it to his lips, “your mother loves me by the way.” He sips, smiling like a Cheshire cat, lone eye studying his prey.

“She also prefers my brother over me so I’d take her approval with a grain of salt.”

He frowns slightly, bringing the cup back down to the table. “They know the baby is mine and they know I am planning on taking care of you, and it, financially.” His eye flickers up to you triumphantly, “And they also know that I proposed to you, my girlfriend of three years and you had your doubts and came to see them.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You told them we have been a couple for three years and they believed you?”

Aemond smirked, shrugging lazily. “Apparently you do not talk to your parents enough for them to know much about you.”

Anger rose within you, making you begin to sweat with loathing. How did Aemond seem to get away with every little thing? It was like he walked and the grass parted a path for him. He seemed untouchable; making your cause seem hopeless.

“Go upstairs and pack, we’re leaving.” HIs command was stern with no room for contest.

You shook your head despite this, “I’m not going with you. No.”

Aemond stood from the table slowly, towering over you. His hand snaked down reverently from the top of your hair, along your cheekbone, landing beneath your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I’ve done things in a quite unorthodox matter at the beginning of this relationship-”

“This isn’t a relationship.”

He barely contained a sneer, you felt the anger boiling just underneath his skin but he kept it from burning you…surprisingly. “Whatever you want to call it- relationship, understanding-”

“Containment-” you cut.

“-whatever,” his voice raised slightly, “you may call it.” He returned to his false softened hum, “I believe I can do better by you and our child. You have to give me that chance.”

Your eyes met his lone blue and you knew you had no choice….for now.

“Okay.”

He looked half shocked, probably suspecting more of a fight. “Okay? Okay. Yes,” he pulled his hand from you. “I will arrange for us to leave immediately. Go upstairs and pack what you need.”

You stood from the table, “All of my essentials are in Sunspear.”

Aemond pulled out his phone, bringing it to his ear. “Well, we aren’t going back to Sunspear so I’ll just buy new essentials unless anything cannot be replaced.”

You looked at him in confusion, “Where are we going then?”

Someone on the other end of the line began speaking so he mouthed what looked like ‘King’s Landing’ before he started barking orders into the phone.

Kings Landing.

The drive to the Crownlands took a few hours and every bit of that time was spent with Aemond on the phone, rearranging your life, unenrolling you from your college, and closing your account at your bank in Sunspear. With every call, you started to grow more and more anxious.

How is he able to do all of these things without my permission or consent?

At the final call, the one where he closed out your membership to the student credit union, he looked over at you. “We are close to my estate now.”

You remained staring out the back door’s window, “How were you able to do all of that without my permission?”

The car slowed and began to turn, Aemond leaned up to the driver, mumbling the code to the driveway gates. Once he leaned back, he looked sideways to you, “I thought you were well aware I had plenty of connections.”

A pit grew in your stomach as you drove through the gates of the estate. A large, white stone home sat proudly in the nicest part of King’s Landing; the homebase of Westeros’ rich, powerful and corrupt. A tall hedge bush ran along the property lines, behind it, you could see glimpses of an iron-wrought fence at least twelve feet high. Physically, there would be no escaping the property.

The car parked beneath the carport at the very front of the house, Aemond opened the door and exited his side, you followed; pulling the handle and exiting. Aemond rounded the car, grabbing your arm a little too harshly and leaning in next to your ear. “We are to be married soon, wait for me to open the door.”

His harsh scolding gave you chills as he pulled back from you with a smile as if nothing had happened. “Allow me to show you the manor.”

Red roses adorned the foundation of the home and when you stepped inside, the floors were marble. Nothing was out of place, everything was extravagant and lavish. Aemond had walked you through the entire first floor (where a butler or maid was scattered purposefully about every three rooms) before leading you upstairs. You had hoped the second floor didn’t have another random person who would pop out from behind a plant or tall vase just to add to your embarrassment as you were paraded through the home as its new captive; fortunately, there were none. 

Aemond led you to a set of double doors, pushing a single open and leading you through gently. “This is our room,” he stated plainly as day. 

You shook your head, “No. I want my own room.”

He fixed you with a look that scorched your skin. “Absolutely not.”

So you used his own logic against him with the words ‘be a river’ giving you the courage to do so. “Aemond,” you reasoned lightly, lighter than natural for you, “I uh, don’t want to assume anything but to my understanding… you want the image of a perfect life.”

His brow furrowed, immediately with shock and before it could resolve to anger, you spoke again.

“I see the white house, the roses, the perfectly manicured yard. I saw the butlers and maids downstairs alongside the decorations that I wouldn’t particularly attribute to your style - not that I know your style, we are just strangers whom you’ve decided should conceive-”

Aemond snorted, anger clearly beginning to rise within him but you continued on.

“I also saw the Seven Pointed Star several times throughout my tour. Decorations…books… and I know that’s the predominant religion of Westeros. You being a politician and all, I’m sure you want to look the part, even if you don’t believe in it, I can almost guarantee you don’t.”

“I do,” he retorted.

You smiled, taking a step toward him, “Interesting.” He looked at you with a thin veil of confusion. “Anyway, what I’m getting at is that it’s quite obvious that this house,” you gestured vaguely around you as you stepped closer to him, “is all for show. You moved me here,” pointing to yourself, “for show. I know your intentions, I understand what I am to you…so I ask you to allow me to have my own room until we are wed. If anything, it’s only for show.” You smiled up at him, feeling you aced him.

He simply smiled back, leaning down slightly. His smile made your triumph falter and fade. “I knew I liked you for a reason, you’re incredibly…perceptive.” His eye leveled you with a glance from your eyes, to your shoes and back up again. “Fine,” he straightened, “you’ll get your own room…until we are wed.”

You blew hot air through your nose, feeling anger festering in your pores. “And when is that?” 

Aemond turned from you, pulling his suit jacket off and placing it on the mattress. “Two weeks.”

Your blood ran cold, “Two weeks? How can you plan a wedding in two weeks?”

Aemond laughed as he loosened his tie, “I’ve had someone on it for a while now-”

“Show me my room please,” anger, resentment, hate boiled through your veins and ignited your heart. “I need some space.”

Aemond chuckled, “Take your pick.” He motioned toward the door, expecting you to find your own way out. You turned and began marching for the door when you heard him call out, “Just remember, you said the bedroom is ‘just for show.”

Turning back toward him, you glared. Of course he wouldn’t let you leave without an innuendo and threat. “Fuck you,” you spat and turned back for the doors, pushing hard. Before you were out of earshot, you heard him laughing to himself with a “soon enough” coming from his lips.

You picked the room furthest from his, on the other side of the second floor entirely. Locking the door as soon as you got into the room despite the fact that the door could be unblocked from the outside. So, for extra measure, you managed to push a dresser in front of the door, more effectively blocking yourself in. 

Safe.

The feeling of dread left you quickly and you felt safe enough to take a shower, wrapping yourself in your towel and laying in the soft bed. You check your phone for the first time today to see you have no messages or calls. You try to call your dad, explain why you left in such haste but your phone would not ring out. No phone service. No carrier.

The fucker turned off my phone too?

Bitterly anger turned into hopelessness which turned into tears. And like how most of your nights went recently, your tears lulled yourself to sleep.

A field of tall grass surrounded you as the soft wind blew your hair. You looked around you to see a river rushing along the base of the hill you were standing on. The river rushed proudly against the grey landscape pushing and pulling where it dared. Then suddenly, the river changed its course, pummeling straight up the hill for you. Sand and loamy clay was left dry where it ceased flowing. Now, at the bottom of the river lies the grass that surrounded you, held you, protected you. You had mere seconds to think before the river reached you and you had yet to think of anything but the cold waves approaching. Suddenly, the sky overhead was dark and thunder thumped hard against the sky. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You awakened to thunder, sitting up in bed. You look around the room in a daze from your previous slumber. The night is dark, starry, clear.

The room thunders again. 

Knocking.

Aemond calls your name from behind the doors. 

“Go away!” Your voice doesn’t tremble, you’re safe behind the doors with the dresser blocking you in. The sounds cease, you find sleep again with less ease.

In the morning, you stand staring at the doors after having moved the dresser, contemplating if your hunger is worth emerging from your hiding spot. The grumble in your stomach pushes you to open the doors and reassures you that Aemond won’t try anything stupid in front of his hired help. You walk to where you remember the kitchen is, bare feet padding against the cold marble floors, without seeing a single person. The sun has been up for a few hours now and you grow uneasy at the fact there aren’t people here to bear witness and pass judgment on Aemond if he were to do something inappropriate but the house is quiet…too quiet. You wonder if he is even home.

You stop in the middle of the kitchen, listening for footsteps or even life; all you hear is the ticking of a grandfather clock several rooms away. Aemond must not be home. 

Relief trickled through you as you opened the fridge, cool light flooding across your face. Picking the easiest thing, a yogurt cup, you closed the fridge then searched the multitude of drawers before you found the silverware drawer and plucked a spoon from it. Quickly, you headed back upstairs with your scavenged breakfast in case Aemond came back early. Opening the strawberry yogurt cup and dipping into it with a spoon, you ate a bite on the way back to your new room until movement stopped you dead in your tracks. 

Your eyes locked with Aemond as he was stepping out of your room. 

“What are you doing?”

A flash of a glare ran across his face, if you blinked, you would have missed it. “You’re not supposed to eat food outside the kitchen or dining room.”

You narrowed your eyes, reiterating, “What are you doing in my room?”

He challenged you, narrowing his own back. “Not. Your. Room. I own this house.”

“Sorry, my space in this hellscape you call a home,” you shifted your stance.

He took a step toward you from the door, “Don’t ever lock yourself in again.”

You laughed, “I’m not your free use slave. You can’t come in and fuck me whenever you want-”

Aemond shook his head, “I was worried about you last night, you had screamed in your sleep-”

“You good-for-nothing jackass…I don’t talk in my sleep, let alone scream. Quit lying and stay the fuck away from me.” Anger overrode your body as he took more steps toward you, causing you to fling the yogurt cup at him, splashing across his face and body. 

He was shocked for several moments, mouth hanging agape, before his eye settled on you; you trying to suppress your laughter behind your two hands clasped over your mouth.

“You little bi-”

Before he could finish, you turned tail and ran, gleeful you’d made an actual mess of him and feeling some sort of victory in doing so. You heard him swear behind you then, the thundering footsteps closing in quickly behind you. 

With nowhere to escape to, you ran into his bedroom, shutting the doors behind you with barely enough time. His pounding on the doors rattled the wood just after you had locked the handles. He called your name behind the wood and you just laughed again, feeling bested the beast in his own home. 

“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that- '' came your sing-song voice in a mocking tone. 

Immediately, the banging ceased. The speed at quick Aemond gave up his pursuit gave you an awful feeling in your stomach but thinking about it was short lived when you saw that in your valor of throwing the yogurt on Aemond, you had spilled a long drop down your shirt and thighs. Cursing to yourself silently, you made your way into the bathroom.

Flicking on the lights, in search of whatever vanity drawer Aemond stored his washrags in so you could wipe the pink yogurt from your only pair of clothes. You didn’t find it in any of the top drawers so bending down, you continued your search for something to wipe off the residue. Soon, you found the drawer containing the washrags and plucking one from the drawer, you stood, turning on the water and running the rag under it until it was fully soaked and warm. Only then, did you look up from the vanity countertop and into the mirror; jumping in fright.

Aemond was standing behind you, smirking. Like a cougar watching his prey from the trees.

You turned quickly, and tried to shove the wet rag in his face only for him to grab you and spin you around to face yourself in the mirror, your hands subdued tightly behind your back. You then noticed another door, slightly ajar, it looked like it led to a large walk-in closet that must have been connected to the hall. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you-”

“Leave me alone,” you struggled weakly in his grip. The pain in your wrist igniting once more.

He chuckled and pressed himself harshly against you, smearing the pink goo across the back of your shirt. “I think we need to clean up, don’t you?”

“Nope, all fine,” you gritted out as you struggled in his hold.

His nose came to press against your throat, you felt your heartbeat quicken as he inhaled your scent. “You, at least, need to clean me.” Without giving you time to process, he hauled you toward the shower, pushing you in and then stepping inside himself. You offered him only a quizzical glare before he turned the showerhead on and began soaking you through your clothes. You huffed and backed out of the water stream and he closed you in, water now drenching him and his clothes; he didn’t seem to care as he began to strip the wet clothes from his body. “Clean the mess you made and you’re free to go.” 

It seemed too easy, too simple. He definitely wouldn't leave it at that. 

Regardless, you began collecting water in your hands as he continued to strip. With trepidation, you moved your hands to his face, wiping a splatter of pink from his cheekbone; trying not to look at his smug expression. His skin was coarse against your fingers. Something about the action was intimate, close, you hated it; it made you feel at ease in his presence.

He bent down, stripping his underwear from his body, completely nude now. However, the rest of the mess was left on his clothes, his skin was clean now.

“I’m done,” you announced with no emotion, trying to conceal embarrassment behind impassiveness. 

He tutted gently, “You’ve made quite a mess of my cock too. You need to clean that up as well.” He glanced down to his member, returning his triumphant smirk to your face. 

You narrowed your eyes, “That’s your own doing. I’m not-”

He brought a hand up to your thigh, collecting some of the yogurt that hadn’t been washed away and rubbed it along his cockhead. 

“Seems like you did make a mess, sweet river, now be a good girl and this’ll all be over.”

HIs honeyed tone was laced with something addictive and once again, you felt yourself falling victim to whatever charm this snake held over you. When his hand came up to your shoulder and pushed you down, you found yourself falling to your knees for him while your glare never left his face. That was, until you were face to face with his manhood, tip smeared with pink. Your mouth watered against your wishes and your eyes glanced back up to him as water trickled down his toned abs, valleying around the base of his and his heavy sac.

Just do what he wants, a voice told you and you gave in.

Carefully, you stuck your tongue out, licking some pink from the bottom of his ruddy head. You heard him shudder at such a small action and it excited you; the thought of reducing him to your whim as he often did to you. So, your tongue swirled around his head again, taking just the tip of him into your mouth and sucking wet and slowly, letting saliva, mixed with yogurt and precum fall down past your lips to be washed down the drain with the rest of the water that fell off of him. You felt him buck against your mouth, releasing a small, barely audible whine when you pulled back from his charge. His hand flew to your hair, eye scrunched shut. He didn’t attempt to move you further onto his cock, rather, hold you steady. “Fuck- please,” he all but groaned as you continued licking and sucking just the tip. 

Smiling, you pulled off of him. “I think you’re clean now.” Your hands in your lap, his hand in your hair. He opened his eye and looked down at you with an annoyed, lazy glare. “Finish,” he all but demanded.

You shook your head. “That would make a bigger mess.”

He rolled his eye, “Okay, let’s see how you like it.”

And before you could process what he was doing, he pulled you up, pulling down your pajama bottoms and underwear in one swift motion, backing you against the cold, tiled wall of the shower and sinking to his knees before you. His mouth was on your cunt like a madman and he hiked one of your legs up with a strong hand, giving him freer access to your womanhood.

His tongue circled your clit like a vulture before he zeroed in, suckling gently. Your hands flew into his wet hair, entangling as you whined and threw your head back a little too harshly against the wall, making the back of your head sting in residual pain but you didn’t care, all you could focus on was the intense pleasure he was ripping from you.

His other hand came up to play with your entrance, lithe fingers dancing, teasing, but never acting in the way you wanted them to, needed them to. You ground down, trying to impale yourself on the fingers that played at your entrance to no avail. Aemond chuckled against your folds, pulling himself from them to look up at your ecstasy ridden face. 

“Don’t like it?”

You huffed, running a hand over your eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide yourself from his goading. “Shut up.”

“How about I grant both of your wishes while you grant mine?” He stood, pulling your top and bra off, depositing them in the heap of clothes at the bottom of the foggy shower.

His hands ran up your ribcage, stopping just below your breasts and cupping them. He placed tender kisses on each one, tongue running along the soft skin. 

“Which is?” Your breath was heavy. This is wrong but at the moment, it’s so right. 

“I’ll shut up and we both get to come,” he added a kiss to your collarbone.

“Are you actually asking me permission?” You could have laughed.

He suckled on the skin just below your ear, making you repress a breathy whine.

“I told you I’d treat you better.”

You chuckled this time, grabbing his wet hair and pulling him away from your skin so he could look at you. “Okay. Fuck me Aemond.”

His face cracked with a soft smile and he cocked his head, “Manners…”

You rolled your eyes and grasped his cock, stroking the velvety skin, pulling it closer to your aching core. “I think we’re long past manners…don’t you?” 

Aemond huffed a singular chuckle through his nose before he hiked one of your legs up and aligned himself, sinking into your core in a slow, purposeful thrust. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you; how he made you feel so full. No one could make you feel like this and you were painfully aware that he knew it.

He began thrusting into you in earnest, chasing a high he had been denied by your lips and newfound victory in your cunt. He steadied himself with a hand on the wall beside your head as his rough pounding became faster, pulling and pushing against that delicate spot inside you that had you whining and wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

“Play with yourself, “ he commanded through rough thrusts.

Your brain was nearly too fucked out to comprehend he had even spoke.

He grunted, delivering a harsh thrust. “I said play with yourself.” He panted, “M’ Close and want you to cum on my cock to finish me.”

You obeyed a bit too quickly, moving a hand down between where you two were joined, rubbing your clit gently and sometimes, teasing him by moving further and caressing his shaft as if emerged and sunk back into your heat. 

“Fuck- fuck- don’t do that.”

You cocked your head to the side, bobbing with each snap of his hips, “Do what?”

Your playful ignorance ignited a more severe side of him and his hand came up and wrapped around your throat, “Don’t- fuck, you like that don’t you? You like it when I’m rough with you?”

It was true, the moment his hand wrapped around your throat possessively, you clenched around him and nearly came. You could be just as brazen though.

Before he knew it, your hands intertwined in his hair, pulling him close to you. Your mouth was on his lips, kissing him with a fever that took him off guard. Lips interlocking, you sucked on his plump bottom lip before forcing your tongue down his throat that he greedily took in.

Suddenly and without warning, Aemond thrusted forward, driving deeper inside you and groaning against your lips as he came harder than he ever had. You felt the hot spend coating your insides and nearly sent you over the edge as he pulsated, hot and heavy in your cunt.

His lips slowly fell from your own as he came down from his high and pulled back, looking at you with a strange reverie in his eye as if he was studying a new species of animal only he had just found.

His cock, still lodged deep inside of you as you ground yourself against him, making him break his trance and hiss in overstimulation; pulling out of you. “You lied,” you said simply as his cum started dripping down your thighs. “But I guess that’s all you ever do, isn’t it?”

His eye searched your own, a confused look on his face. “You said you’d shut up and we both got to come. Only you came and I didn’t. Oh, and you didn’t shut up. You talked a whole lot.”

He chuckled, turning off the shower and kicking the drenched pile of clothes off to the side, “Well, I know how I can fix that.” He took your hand and moved you to sit down on the shower floor. “Lay your pretty head on those clothes and spread your legs.”

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[darkpetal16]

Another question for Mafiafell love interest + sirentale sans

How would they help their mc if they were going through a depresive spiral

Depression spirals can be treated differently for everyone. Any long term, good partner would be able to learn how to best handle the spiral for you. So after they’ve been with you long enough, they would do whatever you specifically need to handle your episode.

However in the early stages of a relationship / before you both know what to do, here’s what they would first try. . .

Mafiafell!Wingding (Don)’s reaction would depend on how severe your episode was. If he thought your life was in danger, he’d throw you into the void sedate you. He’d keep you sedated until he was convinced he knew how to handle the situation. He’s not risking your life on his lack of knowledge. If he doesn’t think your life is at risk, then he’d talk things through with you. He’s a persuasive man and is excellent at picking up on subtext. He might be able to find an underlying issue that you hadn’t noticed before.

Mafiafell!Sans (Hit) would buy you things. Whatever you wanted, he’d find a way to get it. He’d take you out on shopping sprees back to back until you were too tired to do anything else. In the back of his head he knows that won’t be a permanent fix, but hopefully it’ll give you both time to find a good solution / fix the underlying problem.

Mafiafell!Papyrus (Boss) would create puzzle dates. He would hand craft and concoct a variety of activities / mysteries for you to solve. They would be made tailored to your strengths and interests. Every time you complete a puzzle he’d praise you, and remind you how much he cares about you. He wants to bolster your self esteem. While going through them, he’d ask you questions, both shallow and insightful as a way to help you process your thoughts. He thinks better when he’s also doing something else, so maybe you’re the same way?

Mafiafell!Asriel (Heir) would switch into pamper mode. He’ll schedule a spa day for the two of you: complete with all your favorite foods, a full body massage, facial, hair, and of course a new set of pajamas to lounge in. As you’re being treated, Chara will be scheduling you an appointment with the family psychiatrist that you’ll be visiting end of day / the next day. Asriel doesn’t know how to treat depression, but he does know professionals who do. If you want him in the appointment with you, he’ll join you. If not, that’s okay he can wait for you. And when you’re finished, the two of you can snuggle in PJs for a job well done.

Siren!Sans (Siren) felt the same way for a long time so he understands. He doesn’t think what he did for himself (murdering the people who hurt him) would make you feel better but he’ll offer it nonetheless. When you say no, he’ll say he was joking but you both know he wasn’t. He’ll tell you jokes to brighten your mood and coo at you. If you’re really upset he’ll sing happy songs for you. Once you’re asleep, he’ll stay up just a little bit later to browse the web on what to do. If it’s a repeat / prolonged issue for you, he’ll take courses in psychology & cognitive therapy so he can figure out how to best help you.

But seriously if you think him eating the people who hurt you would make you feel better. . .

PLAY IF - MAFIAFELL HERE

PLAY IF - SIREN CALL HERE

MASTERLIST HC