#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 lovers, in the wake of a new spring.

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.

[dumpywrites]

Nomenclature - Kim Taehyung / V

Prompt: “Tell me your name.” “No.”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, strangers to lovers, simp! Taehyung, christmas cliche, some mentions of Yeontan passing (RIP Yeontan 🪽)

Pairing: Taehyung x she/her reader

a/n: I was again inspired by their song, winter ahead's music video is just truly beautiful :') Happy holidays everyone!

“Tell me your name.”

“No.”

“But, why???”

You rolled your eyes, simply walked past the guy who had been pestering you for weeks now. 

Allegedly, his name was Kim Taehyung. Ever since he moved to the town and bumped into you that one time at an art exhibition, this was all he ever did. You found out he was a sculptor, and that a few of his pieces were in fact shown that time. No one was supposed to know about this information because he was using an alias called “Vante”, but your friend Namjoon who was the art curator was a bit nosey. That was also probably how this Taehyung guy found out about your workplace. 

To be quite honest, you didn’t know why someone like him would want to move in a small town. He had looks, money, and supposedly fame too. He looked more like a Los Angeles or Paris kind of person. With those wavy black hair, perfect sculpted by the gods face, you would assume he was a model. But instead here he was, disturbing your cleanup duty. 

“Namjoon said that you’re the same age as me.” 

“Namjoon needs to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“Wow, easy.” He chuckled, slumping down on the table. “I never ask him for your name though. I want to achieve it myself!” 

You looked around your donut shop and sighed. You still needed to clean the tables and it was already half an hour past closing time. 

“I’ll help.” He stood up with a boxy grin, pointing his finger up. 

“You can help me by going home.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Come on… I have no friends here.” He whined. 

“Namjoon is your friend, no?”

“He’s barely in town.” 

“I’m sure you can make friends elsewhere.” You said as you wiped the counter. 

He hummed, puffing his cheeks. “Why don’t you hire me? I can work part time. I’m mostly free! It seems like a lot of work just by yourself here…” 

“It’s only busy on holidays, usually I can manage it very well. And I do have a staff with me, he’s just currently not here since his dad is sick.”

He chewed the inner part of his cheeks, seemingly in thoughts again. He didn’t say anything but you saw him started cleaning the mess from the tables and throwing them to the trash. 

“So, how long have you been running this place?” 

“It’ll be two full years this December.” You said, your voice slowly going far as you moved to the kitchen. 

The man quickly followed you, clearly still wanted the conversation to keep going. You didn’t even bother to tell him away at this point. Maybe the company wasn’t so bad. 

“That’s cool.” He nodded, looking around the kitchen. “Have you always loved baking?”

“What is this, an interview?” You glared. 

“Maybe?” He giggled. 

“As a kid I used to want to study fashion and tailoring, but money was tight and I ended up just going for a normal and boring degree which is, accountancy.” 

He voiced an “ah” and nodded. “If you have the chance, would you still do it? Pursuing fashion and all…”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, hands full with the dishes. “The shop needs me. She doesn’t have anyone else.” 

“She?” He looked at you in amuse. 

“Yeah, it’s a she.” You held down a chuckle. 

He quietly helped you dry the plates and put them on the rack. 

Finally finished with the chores, you turned off the lights and grabbed your jacket. As you moved to the door, the man just followed you around like a puppy. 

“See ya, Taehyung.” You waved blankly and turned away, walking to the opposite direction. 

“Wait!” He called, making you stop in tracks. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“My home is just a ten minute walk.” 

“Then I’ll walk you!” He smiled happily. 

“I’m not giving away my address to you.” You folded your arms. 

“Uh… text me when you get back home then?”

“I do not have your number.”

“That’s why we need to change that now.”

“It’s fine.” You turned your back again, the disappointed expression in his face went unseen to you. “Thank you for the offer though.” 

He sighed with a smile, but waved his goodbyes to you anyway. There was always a next day, he thought. 

You didn’t see him again until the next three days. This time he dropped by for a coffee, that you had recently noticed was bought for the sake of buying something, and a chocolate donut along with it. It seemed like this time instead of bugging you, he just sat there, sketching on his small sketch book, looking like he was shooting an advertisement for your cafe. 

He never greeted you nor had he said anything to you and he had been sitting there for four hours now. Your staff had offered to talk to him, but it just did not feel right to disturb him while looked so passionate. The shop wasn’t too busy at the moment anyway. 

“You sure he’s not a creep?” Jungkook, your staff said to you in a whisper. 

“Can’t exactly say he’s not one, but he’s harmless.” You told him. 

“He hasn’t touched his coffee.” 

“I don’t think he even likes coffee.”

“Then why even order one?! What a weirdo…” Jungkook looked at the guy with side eye. 

You heard the entrance door opened and saw a costumer. “Kook, handle the register for me, I’ll talk to the guy.”

Jungkook nodded and you went inside the kitchen. Grabbing an empty cup, you filled it with water before heading to the man sitting prettily at the corner. 

Taehyung was quick to put down his pencil and book as soon as he saw you placing down a glass of water. “Oh, hello!” He gave you a warm smile. 

“You need to drink something.” You told him, pointing at the water with your eyes. 

“Thanks, I already have the coffee though…”

“You haven’t even taken a single sip from it, Taehyung.” You folded your arms, leaning slightly at the table. “Why order one when you don’t like it?”

His eyes beamed. “You noticed???”

“You’ve been here for hours and the cup’s still full.”

“Sorry,” He chuckled and then took a full sip from the glass of water. “I wanted to look cool.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t like coffee either. Not by choice cause I have acid reflux.” You told him. 

“We’re bonding already, I see… miss, uh…?” He eyed you. 

“Nice try.” You turned, walking away from him. You hoped he didn’t see the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly. 

In the next few days he continued to visit your cafe to seemingly work on his sketch, but he did not get any coffee anymore. Instead, he now ordered some lemon tea alongside the chocolate donut. 

Usually, your shop would be closed on Sundays. You needed some time for yourself in order to prioritize your mental and physical health. But with the Christmas and New Year just around the corner, the place had been extra busy so you decided to open half day on Sundays just until the holiday season was over. 

That was why Taehyung looked so excited when he walked past the cafe and saw the lights on. 

“Welcome to Adore, what— oh.” You dropped your greetings as soon as your eyes met. 

“You’re open on Sundays now?” 

“Only during the holidays.” You simply said. “What can I get you?”

“Cherry jam filled donut?” He asked, pointing at the glass display. 

“Yup. It’s a holiday special.” 

“Interesting.” He hummed. “I’ll get one.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“Nope. Please do print the bill with the cashier name on it this time…” 

“You’re never gonna give it up, huh?”

“You’re so dramatic. We’re basically friends at this point, why can’t I have your name?” He chuckled. 

You shook your head in disbelief. “If there’s nothing else, that would be two—“

“Boba-eyed boy isn’t here today?” He asked while looking around. 

“Jungkook’s shift doesn’t include Sundays.” You sighed. “Can we please proceed? There’s a line behind you.”

“Right, sorry…” He grinned awkwardly and paid the order. He waved you goodbye in a goofy way before exiting through the door. 

A lady who was a returning costumer was next in line. She smiled at you and spoke, “I’ve never seen him around before.”

“He just moved here around a month or so.” You told her. “What can I get you today?”

“Oh, the usual would be great, darling.” She smiled and you quickly typed matcha latte into the order. “I’d like the holiday hamper too, they look adorable.” 

You immediately went to get the donut set. “I know, right?” You smiled at her. 

You quickly typed and tally her order. After she was done with the payment, she spoke up again. “That boy seems nice… and seems into you.” She snickered. 

“Please don’t mind him.” You smiled at her and sighed. “He just has a lot of time in his hands.”

“Don’t be so negative, sweetheart. It’s almost Christmas.” 

She smiled before waving you goodbye, as you did the same to her. 

After the half day, you decided to spend your free time at the mall, window shopping and some actual light shopping too since you were looking for small gifts to give to your friends. On the way home, you were surprised to see Taehyung in front of your shop. He was tiptoeing in cold, hands in his pocket, trying to take a peek inside the closed store. 

“You’re here!” He waved cheerfully. “I didn’t know you closed early?”

“I only open until three on Sundays.” You said, feeling a little nervous seeing him outside work. “Did you wait for me…?”

“I want to give you this!” He quickly handed you a piece of paper, what appeared to be a ticket. “There’s a small art pop up at the town park next week. I have some of my works there and I was wondering if you want to come and see them with me?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes. 

You looked at the ticket and at him back and forth. A small art exhibition wouldn’t hurt anybody. The lady’s words somehow flashed through your mind. Maybe you needed to loosen it up a bit with the negativity. 

“It won’t clash with your work! It’s on Sun—“

“Sure.”

“Aww, man… I was hoping— wait, did you just say yes???” He widened his eyes at you. It was funny how he was already expecting you to reject him. 

“I mean, I’ll probably go either way so…” You shrugged. “I’m surprised Namjoon hasn’t told me anything about it.”

“I told him not to.” He smirked. 

“Well, that explains it.” You broke into a small smile. 

“Wow.” He gasped. “I just made you smile.”

Your expression dropped when you realized. “You’re crazy.”

He giggled, appeared to be very happy with himself. “Wanna take a stroll?”

Both of you ended up sitting down on a random bench across the river. The cold winter air was making you shiver and Taehyung being Taehyung, he quickly removed his coat and draped it across both of you. So now you were sitting shoulder to shoulder, under the moonlight. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, the cherry donut tasted great! You should keep it on the menu.” He showed you his thumbs up. 

“Really? I wasn’t so sure with the jam since I made them from scratch…” You thought. “It’s not overly sweet? I was worried the powdered sugar would be too much.”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Why?” He turned to look at you with a mischievous grin. “You don’t trust my opinion?”

“N-No! I’m just making sure…” You looked away. 

Never knew looking at him in such close range would be this… nerve wracking. You never noticed his beautiful lashes, nor how unique his eyes were, one eye with monolid and the other had double. 

You cleared your throat, backing away slightly. You wondered why it suddenly felt hot even though you were out in the cold winter weather. 

“Is there a reason why I can’t know your name?” He suddenly asked. 

You looked around, fidgeting the hem of your sweater. “You’re too positive, too eager… It scares me.”

You were smiling, but Taehyung didn’t like the way your expression looked. The smile looked like it was laced with sadness behind it. 

“What made you decide to move here?” You asked, changing the topic suddenly. 

He looked like he wanted to protest, but chose not to. “I can’t stand the big city. Always thought I was born to live that life, but turns out I hate the crowd.” 

“Did you not have your alias before?”

“I used to star in movies.” 

“Damn, didn’t know you’re THAT famous.” You pouted your lips, impressed. 

“I’m no Ryan Gosling or anything, my thing was only on small movies or series.” He chuckled. 

“Wait, so you quit just like that???”

“My company kept pushing me on projects that don’t represent me. I was so fed up of putting on a facade in front of everyone, including behind cameras when meeting people in parties and whatnot…” He sighed. “And with my dog passing away recently, I thought a fresh start might be good for me. Cutting off all the toxic branches, you know?”

“I’m so sorry for your loss…” You couldn’t help but to feel sad hearing his story. 

“It’s okay. He’s been sick for so long, so he’s happier now somewhere.” He smiled. “Do you wanna see his pictures?”

You widened your eyes in surprise. “I can?”

“Sure. Just a sec…” 

He took out his phone and showed you a few photos from a dedicated album. Your heart melted upon seeing the images of the adorable Pomeranian. There was a few photos showing the dog wearing costumes, some he took with his friends, and even some selfies of him with the late dog. 

“His name was Yeontan.” He said, fingers still scrolling through the phone, letting you see more pictures. 

“I’m sure he was a good boy…” You gave him a smile. 

“The best.” He smiled back, almost teary eyed. 

Maybe it was the festivities around you, making your heart softened, but you finally agreed to him walking you back home. It was almost awkward to say goodbye as deep down you wanted to hug him. Not only as a farewell, but you wanted to comfort him after hearing his story. You were fighting with your inner morals and self respect, then ended up with a simple fist bump. To be fair, that was more you coded anyway. 

He was very sweet, waiting in front of your house, making sure you entered the door before leaving. You had to shoo him away through the window to make him leave. The sound of his laughter as he waved at you, sounded like a soft Christmas song. 

You did not get to see him until the day before the exhibition. You and Jungkook were busy cleaning up the place, and you could hear your staff’s growl when the sound of the door bell could be heard, thinking it was a costumer coming on closing time.

“Oh, it’s the creep.”

“Hello, boba boy.” Taehyung greeted playfully at the guy. 

“I do not like this guy.” Jungkook pointed to him and looked at you. 

You gave Tae a small smile before patting Jungkook’s shoulder. “I don’t either.” You chuckled. 

“Oh, yeah sure!” The younger guy protested, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll be done in ten minutes.” You looked at the guy who was waiting next to the door. 

“Take your time.” He smiled at you, but earned another glare from the staff boy. 

After you were done and Jungkook went home, subsequent to giving the waiting man a few death stares. You heard Taehyung huffing and puffing, hands inside his pocket, while you were locking your entrance door. 

“What do you wanna talk about?” You asked him. 

“The exhibition is tomorrow…”

“I know.” You giggled. “And?”

“Hey, I don’t have your phone number to just text this thing, okay?” He said in defense, making you laugh. “I have something to give you though…”

“Oh? You don’t have to!”

You backed away one step from him but that did not stop him from taking out something from his pants pocket. He took out a small maroon colored jewelry box, and your heart was racing out because, to random people this might look like he wanted to propose to you.

He opened the box and showed it to you. A beautiful silver-plated Vivienne Westwood necklace was inside of it, you could notice it right away with the iconic Saturn orb. 

“Taehyung, I can’t accept this! I don’t even have anything to give you…” 

“I just think it’d look great with formal looks, for the exhibition and all…” He looked away shyly. “Just take it, please.”

Your hands were slightly trembling as you reached out for the box. “Thank you. It’s really beautiful.” 

“Uh huh.” He grinned, rocking back and forth playfully. “So uh… can I finally have your phone number? I kinda need to know when to pick you up…” He looked at you with hopeful looks. 

“Sure.” You chuckled. 

“Yes!” He threw his fist up, before quickly recollecting himself and cleared his throat. “Uh, here…” He handed you his phone. 

As you typed your number in, he suddenly stopped you. 

“Don’t type your name in!”

You looked at him with crooked head, wondering if he had lost his mind. The fact you were about to do it too. 

“Just tell me tomorrow, if you want to.” He grinned. 

“Okay…?” You chuckled and handed him back the phone. “What’s this all about?”

“Where’s the fun if I tell you.” You could see his cheeks turning a rosy color despite the low light. 

“Suspicious.” You eyed him, couldn’t help a smile. “But I’m intrigued.”

He flashed you his usual boxy grin, hands inside the pocket as he blew a cold smoke. “I’ll take you home?”

You might not realized it, but Taehyung had slowly but surely began to tear down the barrier you built one by one. Whether it was the constant affection, random jokes, or the small details that he would always noticed, whatever it was, his presence made you felt safe. 

Came next day, you had texted Taehyung when to pick you up at your home after work. The struggle and anxiety of choosing the right outfit really joined late. The whole day you thought you had figured it out, but when you finished putting it all together, you started overthinking. Does Taehyung like woman in skirts? Does he prefer woman with hair up or down? Would it be too much if you wear a little bit of makeup?

The choices landed on a simple black mini dress with a white shirt under it. It was the most formal-but-not-try-hard-but-also-still-cute kinda outfit you had. Your red plaid patterned pumps matched the whole theme of the Vivienne necklace that was gifted to you days prior. 

As you take a look at your reflection in the mirror, your phone rang. Expecting it to be Taehyung, you looked up the caller name revealing your friend Namjoon instead. 

“Hello?”

“You’re coming to the exhibition, right?” 

“I am. Why?”

“Tae’s picking you up?”

“Yeah, I think he’ll be here in fifteen.” 

“I’m assuming things are well between you and him?” There was a hint of sneaky teasing in his tone of voice. 

“Didn’t know you were trying to make something happen between us.” You said as you looked at the mirror, applying lipgloss. 

“Wasn’t suppose to, I don’t think that was his initial intention either.” The guy chuckled from the other line. “But I don’t know man… I just think it’s good to see you with someone again, no? You’ve been through so much and I think Taehyung is a good person.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we don’t even know if he’s even thinking that way.” 

“Well, I know.” He emphasized. “Dude wouldn’t even make a move without my permission.”

You broke into a smile. “I didn’t know you’re that protective of me.”

“Hey, ever since what happened with that sick bastard, you had been shutting yourself down. You kept yourself busy with work, you don’t even socialize that much anymore…” He sighed. “And I know you are scared. I know you’re afraid of people that show you so much interest so fast, people who are all sunshine and happiness. But don’t you think it’s about time you try to trust again?”

“I don’t know Joon… to be honest with you, I feel safe with him. He seems like he has the purest intention, and even if he doesn’t even think about this romantically, I still want a friend like him. But…” You paused. “That’s why it’s even scarier. He’s broken all the walls I’ve built. If he hurt me, I’ll be back to ground zero again.” 

“It’s always worth the risk.” Your friend said sternly, assuring you. “And don’t worry, I’ll personally punch him in his goddamn top five most handsome men face if he ever tries to hurt you.” 

You laughed. “Thank you, Joon.” 

“Go get dolled up. I want jaws on the floor when you arrive.” 

“That’s not gonna happen, but whatever.” You laughed again. “See ya.”

“See you, lover girl.”

You had your fair share of Christmas movies. You were also never much of a romantic person yourself, so the Christmas movies dreamy golden retriever boy coming to sweep you off your feet cliche was never your cup of tea. But never say never, people said. 

The sleek back hair, the preppy white button up, the black suit. Who were you kidding, did this person steal his outfit from a movie set or something? You were sure you were getting picked up by a friend, not the prince himself. 

“Hi.” He said, a bit breathless. 

“Hi there.” You said bashfully. “You look great.” 

“Don’t steal my line.” He laughed, pulling his collar slightly. “Oh shit, I forgot.” 

“What is it?”

You saw the man quickly ran to his car and picked up something from the back seat. 

Lord saves us all. He came back with a bouquet. 

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You can’t keep doing this!”

“It’s too much, is it?” He eyed you with a smirk. 

“I like them though.” You smiled as he handed you the flowers. “Although I must admit, red rose is a bit overrated.” 

“It matches your shoes though.” He pointed out. 

“I guess you’re right.” You giggled. “Wait just a sec, I’ll vase them.”You came back a few minutes later after quickly finding a jar for the roses. “Ready?”

“After you.” He playfully said. 

You had the opportunity to bond over music taste through the car ride. You shared your playlist and so did he. You tried your best to not sneak in looks but you caught him doing the same thing a few times, in which both of you just laughed it off. 

“Wow, she’s finally out and about, folks!” Namjoon greeted you as soon as both of you were in sight. 

“I do go out sometimes, you’re exaggerating.” You slapped your friend’s arm jokingly. 

“Buying groceries doesn’t count.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just leave this guy.”

Taehyung laughed. “Wasn’t planning on letting him trail us anyway.”

“You guys are disgusting. I am busy too, excuse you.” Namjoon shook his head playfully. “Enjoy the show, don’t forget to see the main piece!” He eyed Taehyung, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“We get it. Now shoo.” Taehyung gestured with his hand at the tall guy. Namjoon laughed once again before leaving the two of you. “Shall we?” He asked, gesturing his arm in hopes you would link yours over. 

You nodded and happily obliged. 

He cleared his throat as both of you start walking. “I’m supposed to be your tour guide and I rehearsed my whole opening speech, but now I’m nervous as hell with you being this close to me.”

Your cheeks flushed and you giggled. “It’s okay, let’s just both be visitors today.”

“Alright…” He breathed out. “You can ask questions if you’d like. Not everything here is mine but I know a thing or two about them too.”

Soon your eyes landed on a grayscale painting with random splashes of shapes decorating it. You let go your hand from his arm, stepping closer to the artwork, admiring it from close range. The amount of small details made up for the lack of vibrant colors, the visible brush strokes and different textures made it look very unreal to you. 

“Caught your eye?”

“It must took a lot of time and effort doing all the different textures and details.”

“Yeah, it took me months. Made this while thinking about the last time I fell in love.” He smiled at you. 

You were taken aback. Your eyes went down to the small signature done by the man himself. “One would’ve think being in love involves more bright colors…”

“It was more complicated than that.” He stepped closer and stood next to you, eyes on the painting as well. “There was a mix of emotions in there. Happiness, sadness, the in betweens… But all of that memories belong to my past, hence the gray palette.” 

You were debating if you should ask more about the said past.

“You could ask, you know. If you’re curious…” He said, as if he could read your mind. “It’s okay, we ended on good terms. She just fell out of love. I guess I just bore her.”

“That’s awful. How could someone find you boring?” 

You froze when you realized what you had just said. 

The man chuckled as soon as he heard. “Thank you for the compliment.” 

You turned away, blushing. “Let’s move on.” You walked ahead. 

He followed your pace and walked aside you. “What about you? What’s your past like? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“I don’t really have that much experience.” You said with eyes still roaming the area. “Namjoon didn’t tell you anything?”

“He loves to gossip but he also cares about you very much, so no.” 

You smiled and puffed a sigh. “It might not sound like that much of a big deal, but the last person I dated lovebombed me at the lowest point of my life. I was dealing with the loss of my grandma, moving back to this town to continue her bakery, and he came to me just like that only to leave me for another woman like I was nothing.”

“Hey, that is a big deal what are you even talking about.” He stopped and looked at you, seemingly a bit pissed too after hearing your story. 

“I try not to let it get to me anymore, I guess.” You pulled the hem of his sleeves, signaling him to continue walking further. “It’s getting better now, thank you.”

“Thank you?” He eyed you.

“Yeah, thank you.” You smiled. 

He chose not to question it and just continue the tour with a big grin decorating his face. The two of you continued the tour before Taehyung suddenly stopped you from making a turn to the last room to see. 

“Uh, before you go I need to tell you something… I want you to know that this didn’t happen on purpose.” He plastered a nervous smile. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The inspiration didn’t quite reach me until the very last few days… I was supposed to sculpt a whole different thing, but I ended up with a bust.” 

“Oh? Then I can’t wait to see—“

“Wait,” He grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “I want to let you know that I made this because it’s all that’s been occupying my mind the past few weeks and I don’t mean it in a creepy way… in case you’re offended.” He chuckled nervously again. 

“Why would I get offended?” You looked at him suspiciously. 

He took a deep breath and breathed out heavily. “Let’s go see it.” 

Once you were inside, the first thing that caught your eye was a huge bust sculpture facing back. There was somewhat of a drip effect coming from the neck downwards, huge mess of concrete pooling at the bottom, creating the illusion of an unfinished raw work. From the looks of it, the statue seemed to be of a woman, but you couldn’t judge for sure. As you stepped closer, circling to get a better view, Taehyung quietly followed you from behind. 

You began to notice the ear, the side profile and how oddly familiar looking it was. Once you finally see the full front view, it all made sense to you. 

The sculpture was in fact made to look like you. It had your eyes, nose, lips, everything. It was you, with your hair up like how you would during work hours. 

“T-Tae… is this…”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at you with reddened cheeks. “What do you think?”

You were still in awe, speechless of seeing a literal art piece of yourself, most importantly, presented to the public eye. You weren’t sure if screaming or crying would be the appropriate way to react. 

Seeing you stunned silent, Taehyung began to panic a little. “It’s creepy, isn’t it? I’m sorry…”

“No!” You quickly voiced out. “It’s just… I’m just loss of words. I can’t exactly believe what I see.” 

“I can’t either.” He said, looking uneasy still. “It just happened out of nowhere. I only realized when I was already halfway done with your nose.”

“I…” You took a good look at the piece again, before continuing. “It’s really beautiful. I wasn’t even sure it’s me until I see the full view.”

“Well, that’s how you look in my eyes.” He giggled. 

You blushed. Clearly you didn’t have any comeback ready in you for this. 

“If you look closely, this piece doesn’t have a name yet.” 

You looked down to see the name plate empty, as told. Then something just connected in your head. This cheeky smart bastard. 

“Wanna name it?” He looked at you with a big contagious smile on his lips. 

You nodded, mirroring the smile he had on. Instead of immediately saying your name, you stepped closer and hugged him, in which he instantly returned, resting his head on top of yours. In his embrace you looked up and finally told him your name. 

The expression he had was mixture of joy and surprise. Both of you bursted into laughter in unison. For a moment, the world seemed to have stopped just for you. You even forgot the existence of other visitors wandering around. It was just you and him. 

Taehyung took out something from his side pocket, a black marker, which he wiggled playfully in front of you. He looked left and right, making sure no one would notice, before he quickly wrote something on the golden plate.

“What if someone sees you?!” You whispered. 

“Don’t worry, Namjoon already knows.” 

He chuckled and took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together as he led you through the exit. You didn’t get to see exactly what he wrote on the plate, safe to assume it was probably just your name. 

Little did you know, Namjoon had reached the room, examining the new named sculpture, with the word “Love” now scribbled on top of its name plate. He couldn’t help but to be happy for his dear friends. 

Thank you for reading! 🎨

[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.

[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.”

[redvexillum]

A/N: This is set in my Mandatory Overtime universe. I can't seem to let Sunshine go. Damn, I should've just written a long fic for them. Also PSA, licking doorknobs is not indicative of writing angst. Kit. Stop spreading lies. *glares*

SUMMARY: You and Vox shared a tangled, messy relationship—one where Valentino always seemed to cast his shadow over you both. You understood why he had to be part of the picture, but that didn’t stop you from yearning for the impossible. You wanted Vox to choose you.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, soft!vox, complicated relationship, on/off relationship, p in v

A cacophony of remixed Christmas songs blared through the air, their jarring, cheery beats paired with pulsating red and green lights that sliced through the dimly lit room like daggers. The scent in the air was a cocktail of sweat, alcohol, and cloying perfume—a suffocating reminder of how alive and chaotic Voxtek’s annual Christmas party was. The revelry buzzed around you, loud and relentless, but it only seemed to make your chest feel heavier. 

You stood off to the side, nodding absently as your coworker droned on about their long, exhausting day. The stem of your martini glass was cool in your hand, the electric blue cosmopolitan inside trembling slightly as your grip tightened. Your gaze wandered, searching—inevitably landing on him. 

Vox. 

The man who had the unique talent of being both your salvation and your ruin. He stood out even in this riot of chaos. His sleek, neatly tailored blue suit hugged his frame perfectly, the glow of the lights reflecting off the polished surface of his television-shaped head. His drink—something dark and neat—dangled from his long fingers with effortless grace as he laughed at something Valentino, his ever-present companion, said. The moth demon lounged by his side, all charm and vanity, the two of them shining like kings holding court in the middle of the crowded room. 

Your fingers clenched tighter around your glass, and your teeth ground together until your jaw ached. The urge to storm across the room, throw your drink into Vox’s smug face, and watch the ice-cold liquid drip from his perfect suit was almost irresistible. Almost. Instead, you sucked in a sharp breath, downed the rest of your cosmopolitan in one angry gulp, and slammed the glass onto the nearest table with a little too much force. 

“Getting another drink,” you muttered, though you knew your words were swallowed by the pulsing bass of the music and the hum of laughter and conversation around you. Nobody even noticed as you slipped away, bitterness bubbling in your chest as the sickeningly upbeat rhythm of “Jingle Bell Rock” mocked you with every cheerful note. 

The holiday cheer decorating the room—sparkling tinsel, gaudy presents, mistletoe strung above every doorway—only served to sour your mood further. Each garish ornament seemed to twinkle with laughter at your misery. 

Sliding onto a barstool, you slouched forward and gestured for another drink. This stool was going to be your home for the next half hour—just long enough to dull the ache in your chest—before you went back to your real home. Alone. 

On Christmas Day. 

The bartender slid a fresh drink into your waiting hand. You stared at the swirling liquid, your head buzzing, your heart tight with an ache you refused to name. The burn of alcohol in your throat did nothing to soothe the bitterness gnawing at you. 

Your relationship with Vox was... complicated. The truth of it, spoken aloud, sounded sordid and empty: you were sleeping with your boss. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? Or maybe less. In Hell, hierarchy was everything, and for Vox, power meant everything. Valentino and Velvette were essential to maintaining his control over his territory. You understood that. 

You had to. 

But understanding it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Your fingers tightened around the glass as you lifted it, drinking deeply, hoping the alcohol would drown the unwelcome emotions swirling in your chest. Hell wasn’t a place for attachments or exclusivity. No one stayed with just one person for eternity, not here. It was absurd to even think about it. 

So why the fuck does it still hurt? 

You stared at your reflection in the swirling depths of your drink, the words echoing in your head like a cruel mantra. You weren’t hurt. You weren’t upset. You weren’t angry that, once again, Vox chose to spend his evening with Valentino, his public partner, instead of you. 

You weren’t jealous. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you took another drink and tried not to look back at him. 

You didn’t love him. 

Not even close. 

Sure, your boss had everything that turned heads in Hell—power, influence, money, and a talent in bed that left you breathless. 

But love? 

Nah. 

The very thought made you scoff, a bitter laugh bubbling from your throat. What you felt for him was raw, primal, transactional. 

Not love. 

But the universe, in its perverse humour, seemed to think otherwise. The song shifted, and Mariah Carey’s unmistakable voice belted out the opening to “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” You groaned aloud, the sound swallowed by the party’s din, and chugged your drink in one aggressive gulp. The burn of the alcohol wasn’t nearly enough to drown the ache simmering under your skin. Slamming the empty glass onto the bar, you shot the bartender a glare and jabbed a finger toward the counter. 

"Another," you demanded, your voice sharp despite the festive chaos around you. 

Thirty more minutes. That was all you’d allow yourself. Thirty minutes to sit here, drink until the edges of your thoughts blurred, and then go home. Maybe you’d pull your vibrator out of the drawer, let it fill the void for a few fleeting moments, and then collapse into bed, pretending none of this mattered. Pretending you weren’t bitter. Pretending you weren’t sad. Pretending you didn’t feel the icy tendrils of loneliness wrap tighter around your heart with every passing minute. 

Goddammit. 

The alcohol was doing a piss-poor job of cheering you up. 

In the corner of the room, Vox’s mechanical systems emitted a faint, insistent beep, an irritating reminder that his internal software was overdue for an upgrade. He sighed softly to himself, adjusting the bow tie of his meticulously tailored suit. That was the cost of his biomechanical form—constant maintenance, relentless upkeep. 

Truthfully, he had little interest in the party. He was here for two reasons: to appease Valentino, his ever-demanding lover, and to see you.

His glowing screen flickered faintly as his gaze scanned the crowded room, moving automatically from face to face until it landed on you. There you were, sitting at the bar, hunched slightly over a drink, a faint scowl etched into your features. You looked radiant despite your sour mood. The sequined cocktail dress you wore hugged your figure, catching the flashing lights and making you shimmer like a living star. The plunging V-neckline left little to the imagination, and he felt a familiar heat coil low in his gut. 

He smirked to himself. Of course, you’d turn heads tonight.

You always did. 

Earlier, he had told you that he needed to entertain Valentino for the evening, brushing it off as a necessary performance. You had smiled—damn that smile—and shrugged, saying you understood. Professionalism. That was the facade the two of you wore in public, acting every bit the obedient employee and the aloof, untouchable boss. But there were moments. Fleeting, stolen moments when your gazes lingered too long, when his hand would brush against yours, when his thoughts strayed to pulling you close and keeping you for himself. 

Right now, standing beside Valentino, those same thoughts teased at the edges of his mind. How easy it would be to cross the room, sweep you into his arms, and drag you to the darkest corner of the room where the two of you could forget the rest of the world existed. 

“Ugh!” Valentino’s dramatic groan broke through his reverie. The moth demon scowled at his phone, his manicured nails clicking against the screen as he fumed. “I swear, if this whore ignores my call one more time…” His glowing red eyes flashed behind the pink-tinted heart-shaped glasses. 

Vox forced out a laugh, though his patience was wearing thin. Between the blaring music, Valentino’s whining, and the incessant beeping in his head, his mood was unravelling quickly. “Val,” he drawled, his voice low and laced with feigned amusement, “try not to do anything rash. It’s Christmas, for Hell’s sake.” 

Val blinked once, then twice, before puffing leisurely on his long, ornate pipe. The pink smoke swirled lazily around him, casting his devilish grin in an almost ethereal glow. “Oh, are you due for another upgrade, Voxxy?” he purred, the nickname dripping from his lips like honey. “Maybe I can keep you company while you’re… upgrading.” He leaned closer, his grin widening into something sultry and teasing. 

Vox barely resisted the urge to roll his glowing eyes again. The last time Val had “kept him company” during an upgrade, Val had received a call from Angel Dust halfway through and left Vox high and dry—literally. The memory still burned. He had been stuck there, slouched in his office chair, pants down, painfully hard, and utterly alone when you had walked in. 

Your startled yelp had been mortifying enough, but the mischievous glint in your eyes and the endless teasing that followed? That was a special kind of Hell. You never knew why he’d been in that state—Vox had made sure of that. You hated Val, after all, and if you’d known it was because Val had ditched him for a call, your teasing would’ve turned into something far worse. 

Suppressing the bitter swirl of memory, Vox squared his shoulders, his posture straightening into its usual imposing form. His lips pressed into a tight line before curling into a forced smile. “No, Val,” he said with exaggerated patience, searching for a plausible excuse. “You’d only…” He paused, mind racing. “Delay the upgrade speed. It’s a delicate process.” 

He threw in one of his trademark grins for good measure, but Val was already engrossed in his phone, scrolling obsessively and muttering about unanswered messages. Vox let out a quiet sigh, irritation flickering beneath his polished exterior. 

Fine. Perfect. 

Before vanishing in a crackle of static, Vox allowed himself one lingering glance at you across the room. The sequined dress you wore still glimmered under the party lights, catching his gaze like a magnet. His chest tightened as he etched the image into his memory, unwilling to let it go just yet. 

The moment Vox stepped into his office, he let out a long, steadying sigh. This was his sanctuary—a place of order, where chaos bowed to his control. The faint hum of monitors greeted him like an old friend, and he sank into his chair with a rare sense of relief. 

His eyes drifted to the tangled wires waiting for him on the desk, and a low chuckle escaped his lips. He couldn’t help but remember the night you’d found him awkwardly tangled in those same wires. One thing had led to another, and— 

Focus. Vox shook his head sharply, a faint tinge of warmth creeping up his neck. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in memories of you… and your plump lips... and the way they felt when— 

Damn it. 

Forcing himself back to the task at hand, he summoned the wires with a flick of his fingers. They slithered through the air like obedient serpents, plugging neatly into the ports at the back of his head. The familiar sensation of connection settled over him, and he exhaled slowly, emptying his mind as the system began its reboot. 

Data organized itself in tidy streams, his consciousness dimming as the upgrade process took over. It was a slow, meticulous procedure, one that required hours to complete. As his body relaxed into the chair, Vox allowed himself to drift into a light, dreamless slumber, welcoming the brief reprieve. 

But peace never lasted long. 

The sharp bang of his office door swinging open jolted him upright, his systems momentarily glitching as his muscles tensed. A flare of annoyance sparked within him, ready to ignite into full-blown fury at whoever had dared interrupt him. 

And then he heard your voice. 

“Helloooo~” you called, your tone lilting with a drunken, playful edge. A cascade of giggles followed, bubbling up like sweet champagne. 

Vox froze, his chest constricting as he tried to decide whether to greet you or remain perfectly still. His gaze flicked to the progress bar on his internal display. 1%. Barely started. Damn it all. 

It had been weeks since the two of you had been alone together—weeks of stolen glances and unspoken longing. And now here you were, waltzing into his sanctuary, dishevelled and carefree, breaking every ounce of control, he prided himself on. 

Vox’s indecisiveness was his undoing. Before he could resolve whether to stay passive or act, you padded closer, your presence lighting up the sterile office like a bright spark in the dark. The intoxicating scent of you—familiar yet utterly irresistible—hit him first, followed by the mesmerizing sight of you leaning over him. Your cleavage spilled tantalizingly into view, and Vox cursed silently as blood surged southward, betraying his carefully maintained composure. 

You looked devastating up close, the faint sheen of alcohol-induced mischief dancing in your eyes. 

"Hmm," you hummed, swaying slightly, one hand gripping your heels while the other clutched a half-empty bottle of scotch. Your lips quirked into a dreamy smile as you pinched your own cheek, wincing with a soft ow. "I’m not dreaming, am I?" you mused, your words slurred ever so slightly. 

Vox’s grin widened, though his screen remained dark, a carefully maintained façade of his "upgrade mode." To anyone else, he might appear shut down, lifeless, but he was acutely aware of every movement, every word, every shift of your body. 

“Aw, man,” you pouted, your lower lip sticking out in a maddeningly cute way, “I was gonna drink in here.” With zero hesitation, you plopped yourself onto his left knee, straddling him with a familiarity that made his circuits hum. 

Your closeness was intoxicating, your scent mingling with the faint heat of your skin. Your fingers hovered dangerously close to his lap, grazing the fabric stretched over his now-hardening cock. 

“I was feeling a little naughty, you know,” you teased, leaning closer, mischief twinkling in your half-lidded eyes. “Bet you’d be annoyed if I drank in here, huh?” 

Vox had to clench every metaphorical muscle to keep from reacting, though his heart—or its closest biomechanical equivalent—thudded against his chest. He bit back the urge to smirk. Oh, Sunshine, I’m going to tease you so much for this tomorrow. He could already picture the flush spreading across your cheeks when he reminded you of tonight’s antics. 

You tilted your head, curiosity glinting in your gaze as you squinted at him. Shifting closer, your hips pressed fully against his thigh, sending sparks of heat racing through his body. Vox’s composure wavered as your dress hitched higher, exposing more of your soft, tempting skin. 

"Are you sleeping, Vox?" you whispered, your voice a mix of suspicion and amusement as you pressed your forehead against his screen. "Don’tcha usually have that bouncy logo thing going?" 

When no response came, your lips curled into a wicked grin. Vox felt a jolt of anticipation as your fingers began to explore the front of his pants. Your touch deliberate as it pressed firmly against his strained member. You burst into laughter, the sound filling the room like music laced with sin. Your hips rocked against him in your mirth, further testing his self-control. 

“Oh my God,” you said, your voice dropping low, dripping with mockery and something darker. “Are you having a wet dream, Vox? Imagining your boyfriend fucking you in the ass?" Though there was a playful lilt to your words, the bitter edge didn’t escape him. 

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with something unspoken. You tilted your head, humming in thought before murmuring, “Should I help you, Vox? Relieve you?” 

His restraint was a thin, fragile thread, threatening to snap as you ground against his thigh, soft, breathy moans spilling from your lips. 

"It’s not fair," you whispered, your voice quivering with a vulnerability that made his chest ache. “It’s not fair…” Your hips stuttered to a halt, the air thick with the sound of your unsteady breathing. “I… I wanted to spend tonight with you, you know.” 

Your words cracked something deep within him. And then, to his horror, he saw it: the shimmering wetness in your eyes, the way you bit your trembling lip, your head bowing as if the weight of the moment had finally crushed you. 

Without a second thought, Vox disconnected from the upgrade with a sharp click, the wires snapping free as his hands shot up to grip your waist. He slid you closer, his touch firm but gentle, his screen flickering to life with a soft glow. 

“Babydoll,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with concern. His hands steadied you as his heart ached at the sight of your uncharacteristic vulnerability. “What’s wrong?” 

His crimson gaze searched yours, desperate to understand the pain he saw there, a pain that cut deeper than he expected, twisting into places he didn’t even realize could hurt. 

You jolted when Vox’s hands suddenly grabbed your waist, his fingers strong and grounding. The unexpected movement made your heart leap, and your tear-filled eyes blinked rapidly, scattering the evidence of your vulnerability. Heat rushed to your cheeks, shame and embarrassment burning under your skin. 

You forced a bright, shaky smile, trying to mask your emotional turmoil. “What are you talking about?” you teased, voice light, as your arms looped loosely around his neck. You shifted closer, biting your lip at the unmistakable pressure of his hardness pressing against your core. It was a flattering reminder of how much he wanted you, no matter how complicated things had become. 

When you stumbled into his office, you hadn’t really planned it. One drink had turned into three—then four—and suddenly, the elevator had become your best friend, carrying you to the one place you thought you could find solace. 

You didn’t expect him to be here, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t hoped for it. This was Vox, after all. He practically lived in this office. When you saw his familiar silhouette illuminated by the dim, flickering glow of the computer monitors, something in you had ached to be near him, to hold him, to be held in return. 

“You looked like you were about to cr—” Vox started, his voice softer than you expected. 

A giggle bubbled out of you, too quick, too bright. “Silly, Vox,” you interrupted, the alcohol thrumming through your veins making your skin hum and your mood twist in erratic directions. You pressed closer to him, chest to chest, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. 

And he didn’t push you away. 

That alone sent a thrilling pulse through your already-buzzed system. 

The unspoken agreement between you hung heavy in the air, a deal forged in moments of desperation. Vox had promised to focus on repairing his relationship with Valentino, and you had promised to give him space. You said you’d understand. 

But you didn’t agree. 

“Where’s Valentino?” you asked, your voice soft as silk, a quiet murmur. Your lips brushed the side of his neck, leaving a featherlight kiss. As you spoke, your fingers moved with practised ease, undoing his bow tie and sliding down to unbutton his crisp shirt. 

Vox exhaled sharply, his breath hitching as his hips bucked forward. The friction made you gasp, and he groaned, voice rough and strained. “Oh, fuck, babydoll... we... we can’t do this today.” 

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, and your body stiffened. The dark thoughts you’d tried so hard to drown out began to surface, insidious and cruel.If you don’t keep his attention, he’ll forget you. The thought clawed at you. Or worse, he’ll find someone better... someone who’s everything you’re not. 

Clenching your teeth, you acted before doubt could take over. With a sharp tug, you ripped open his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the floor with loud, defiant clicks. 

Vox leaned back, startled for a moment, before a lopsided grin spread across his face. The glow of the monitor painted his navy skin in a halo of soft light, making him look even more enticing. 

“You were saying?” you purred, tilting your head with a shit-eating grin, defiance sparkling in your eyes. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with electric tension. His grin faltered slightly as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "You're going to be the death of me, babydoll," he murmured, his voice low and full of something dangerous, something irresistible. 

You half-expected him to push you away. He was always unyielding when it came to his rules, particularly those tied to maintaining his power. If he did—if he denied you now—you would go. You wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t linger in a space that no longer welcomed you. You would collect what little dignity remained, return home, and let the ache consume you in solitude. 

But a desperate, fragile part of you prayed he wouldn’t. 

You hid that vulnerability beneath bold lipstick and a smirk, your armour polished and gleaming. Slowly, you licked your lips, drawing his attention to them. “I wanted more than a Christmas bonus, you know?” Your voice carried the teasing edge of a challenge, masking the tremor in your heart. 

Vox exhaled a soft laugh, the sound low and indulgent. His sharp fingers moved with deliberate precision as he undid his pants, the zipper’s metallic rasp cutting through the charged air. When his cock sprang free, hard and heavy, twitching with need, a wave of heat rolled through you. He sighed in relief, his head tilting slightly back as if savouring the release. 

“Yeah? What more did you want?” he murmured, his crimson gaze dipping to where his hands gripped the hem of your dress. He pulled it up slowly, relishing every inch of exposed skin, until your g-string came into view. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, dropping his head back for a moment as if to collect himself. 

You hadn’t expected the night to spiral into this, but as Vox’s reaction played out before you, satisfaction swelled in your chest. Your choice of underwear was a deep navy-blue g-string, custom-made with the Voxtek logo. Its tiny triangle barely covered anything, the string teasingly cutting between your folds. It wasn’t practical, but the effect it had on Vox? 

Priceless. 

You leaned closer, voice laced with wicked amusement. “I wanted to fuck the CEO of Voxtek tonight,” you said, your tone dripping with defiance as you began to grind against him. Your slick heat slid over the length of his cock, from the tip to the base, then back again, leaving him shuddering under your touch. 

Vox let out a strained groan, his hips jerking instinctively to meet your movements. His cock throbbed, desperate for more. “Ah, fuck,” he breathed, voice thick with lust.  

Elation surged through you, sending a thrill down your spine. This wasn’t a dream—you pinched your own cheek just to be sure. Pride and boldness swirled together, lifting his hands and pressing them firmly to your breasts. “What’s wrong?” you taunted, flashing him a wicked grin. “Forgot how to fuck a woman?” 

His chuckle was low and dark, sending a ripple of heat through you. Without warning, he scooped you up effortlessly and dropped you onto the console behind you. The buttons clicked and beeped beneath your back, and the wall of monitors surrounding you flickered wildly. 

“Aren’t you worried I might press the wrong button?” you teased, your voice a sultry purr as you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. 

Vox leaned down, his crimson eyes glowing with hunger. “Oh, doll,” he said, his tone dripping with menace and desire, “you’ve been pressing plenty of my buttons tonight.” 

Your heart hammered as his hands slid down to grip your hips, his cock grinding against your clit with delicious friction. Each roll of his hips sent a spark through you, drawing soft moans from your lips. 

His pants hit the floor, forgotten, leaving him fully exposed. His cock stood thick and proud, his gaze searing as it roamed over you. Without hesitation, he grasped your dress, his sharp fingers making quick work of freeing your breasts. The cool air brushed against your skin, hardening your nipples, but the fire in his eyes burned hotter than any chill. 

The flimsy g-string followed, shredded with a single rough tug. His voice was low, growling as he drank in the sight of you laid bare before him. “Fuck,” he murmured, his hands gliding over your thighs and spreading them wider. 

“Is this for me, baby?” Vox growled, his fingers curling around the flimsy, soaked fabric of your ruined underwear. The look in his eyes was ravenous, a predator cornering his prey. 

Your lips curled into a coy smile, heart racing as heat surged through your body. “Mhm, maybe?” you teased, voice dripping with playfulness. You bit your bottom lip, feigning innocence as you trailed a finger up his chest. “Are you going to give me an extra Christmas bonus now?” 

For a moment, Vox hesitated. His eyes searched your face, flickering with conflict. You recognized the signs—the careful calculation, the tug of his control trying to pull him back. He was teetering between what he wanted and what he thought he should do. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Your hand wrapped firmly around his cock, stroking him slowly, deliberately. The weight of him in your palm and the way his girth twitched at your touch sent shivers down your spine. You thumbed the slick tip, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from him. 

“I told you that tonight—ah—” His words dissolved into a moan, his head falling back as if surrendering to the inevitable. 

In one swift movement, Vox tore your hand away, lined himself up, and thrust into you in a single, deliberate stroke. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, your back arching as your body accommodated his fullness. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned, clutching at his shoulders. Your walls clenched involuntarily, a fluttering grip that drew another groan from him. Every nerve in your body felt alive, buzzing, as his cock filled you completely. 

“Ah, you feel fucking amazing as always,” Vox muttered, his voice thick with lust and something deeper—something possessive. He pulled back, then slammed his hips forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless. “Fuck—I can’t even—” Another deep thrust, the sound of his hips meeting yours echoing in the room. “—stay away from your fucking—” His next thrust was angled just right, drawing a cry from your lips. “—cunt.” 

He ground his hips forward, the hard press of his pelvis deliberately rubbing against your clit. You let out a loud, wanton moan, spurring him to continue. 

Your mind swirled in a haze of pleasure and determination. You’d wanted to spend Christmas with him, and in Hell, the greedy thrived. If you didn’t seize what you wanted with both hands, someone else would. 

“Babydoll,” Vox rasped, his tone softer now, laced with an unspoken tenderness. He bowed low, pressing his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss. 

But fleeting wasn’t enough. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you deepened the kiss, pouring your longing and desire into it. His cock throbbed inside you in response, hot and insistent. 

When you finally broke away to catch your breath, you gave him a sweet, teasing smile. “It’ll be our dirty little secret, baby,” you purred, squeezing your walls around him for emphasis. 

The groan he let out was almost guttural, his hips rolling slowly to drag out your shared pleasure. “Fuck, then,” he murmured, thrusting languidly. “Let’s head up to my place after this.” His voice dipped lower, darker. “After I fill you up here, I’m going to wreck you when we get back to my place.” 

The promise in his words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. His next thrust was sharp, his hips snapping forward with such force that the console buttons beneath you clicked against your back. 

“Going to fuck you so hard,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “you’ll feel me all day tomorrow.” 

His words alone had you teetering on the edge. You clawed at your breasts, kneading them, twisting your nipples, desperate to push yourself over. “Yes, yes, yes,” you cried, your climax building rapidly, ready to crash over you in waves. 

But then—you heard it. 

The sharp tone of an incoming call. 

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you glanced up. The display on Vox’s screen shifted, and the unmistakable face of Valentino appeared. 

For a moment, you froze, fury and humiliation warring within you. Him. Of all people. 

The phone continued to ring, each chime an affront to your pride. Vox groaned in frustration, his cock still buried deep inside you. He glanced at the ceiling, his jaw clenched. 

By the third ring, he gave in. With a resigned sigh, he answered it. 

You didn’t bother masking your annoyance. “Are you seriously picking up right now?” you muttered, glaring at him. 

He gave you a helpless shrug, his other hand gripping your thigh possessively. “It’s Valentino,” he said, as if that explained anything. 

The vein in your temple throbbed. 

Of course it is. 

“What?” Vox snapped, his voice sharp and taut, like a whip cracking through the tension in the room. His claws gripped your hips with bruising force, pinning you firmly in place. The weight of his cock still nestled inside you was a cruel reminder of how easily the moment could slip away. 

“Vox! Are you done with your little upgrade yet?” Valentino’s drunken drawl came through the speaker, his words slurred and punctuated by the thrum of music and high-pitched giggles in the background. 

Vox’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “What do you think?” he bit out, his tone laced with venom. 

If Valentino noticed, he didn’t care. “Well, if you’re done, come back to the party, Voxxy,” he purred, dragging out the syllables with smug satisfaction. “Let’s have some fun, you and I.” 

The words hung in the air like poison, seeping into the cracks of your resolve. 

With a long, weary sigh, Vox mumbled, “Fine," before he hung up. 

Then, to your horror, he began to pull away, withdrawing from you with a slow, deliberate motion that left you cold and empty. The loss was visceral, cutting deeper than you could have anticipated. 

“Vox—” 

He faced you, his features hardened with something between regret and resolve. Your dress hung askew on your body, your torn panties discarded on the floor, and your slickness still glistened on his length. You were utterly exposed, physically and emotionally, and yet he looked ready to leave. 

“I told you,” he began, his voice strained as he pressed two fingers against the middle of his forehead, “things are…complicated right now.” His gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something raw—pleading—for your understanding. 

Under any other circumstances, perhaps you would have lied, plastered on a fake smile, and forced yourself to swallow the lump in your throat. That was your modus operandi: fake it till you make it. Pretend it doesn’t hurt. Pretend you don’t care.

But not tonight. 

Tonight, you couldn’t. 

“Choose me, Vox,” you whispered, your voice trembling, cracking under the weight of your vulnerability. Your lips quivered as you forced a shaky smile, even as tears brimmed in your eyes. “Please… just choose me.” 

His eyes widened, the weight of your words settling on his shoulders like a heavy burden. “Sunshine, I—” 

“Choose me for just this moment,” you interrupted softly, your voice barely more than a plea. You reached out, your trembling fingers curling around his, giving them the gentlest tug. “Choose me,” you repeated, your words quieter, yet no less desperate. 

He hesitated, his body tense, his breath shallow. Then, slowly, he took a small, shuffling step closer. 

Your chest ached, every beat of your heart thrumming with uncertainty. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t let him see you break. Not completely. “Just for one moment,” you whispered again, the words catching on the lump in your throat. “Choose me.” 

And then—he did. 

Vox didn’t leave. 

His fingers reached for you, tangling in your hair as he tilted your face toward his. “Just one moment, sunshine?” he murmured, his voice wavering between a laugh and a sigh. “You have no idea…” He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, soft and hesitant, like a promise he was terrified to make. Electricity surged through you at his touch, lighting every nerve in your body aflame. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve chosen you in my mind,” he admitted, his voice low and raw as he pressed you back against the console. 

He shifted his hips, aligning himself with you once more. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, his cock stretching and filling you again. The sensation was overwhelming, his heat, his presence, the way his body seemed to melt into yours. 

“I want to choose you,” he murmured, his hips pressing flush against yours. “If I had the power to stand alone, I would choose you every moment, every night, every morning.” 

His voice softened, cracking under the weight of his confession. His movements became slow and deliberate, as though savouring every thrust, every gasp and moan you gave him. 

And at that moment, it wasn’t about Valentino, or power, or complicated deals. 

It was just you and him—two souls caught in the tangled mess of desire, longing, and love. 

The movements between you softened, slowed, as if the fire of the moment had dimmed. What lingered was a tender passion—a raw, unspoken connection that burned deeper than heat, deeper than desire. His hips rocked gently, rhythmically, pressing against you in a way that sent a quiet, radiant pleasure unfurling through your body like waves lapping at the shore. 

Your mind faltered, caught in the web of his words and actions. The vulnerability in his voice struck a chord you weren’t ready to face. You stifled the sob threatening to break free, burying your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar, sharp scent. “I-it feels g-good, Vox,” you murmured, your voice trembling and barely audible, the tears pooling in your eyes blurring your vision. 

Each caress, each roll of his hips was gentle, deliberate, as though he was memorizing every inch of you, committing you to some hidden part of himself. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, spreading outward in waves of ecstasy as you finally reached your peak. It was like being wrapped in a blanket—not just one of comfort, but of love, fleeting and fragile, and all the more precious for it. 

The sound of his breath, soft and ragged, mingled with your own as his moans deepened. His climax came quietly, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, warmth pooling and binding you to this moment. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close, as if he could stave off the inevitable with the strength of his embrace. 

But even this, like all beautiful things, couldn’t last forever. 

The shrill sound of Valentino’s call shattered the stillness, cutting through the fragile cocoon you had woven around yourselves. Vox sighed, and for a fleeting, desperate moment, you wished he wouldn’t answer. 

But he did. 

He always did. 

When he hung up, his gaze found yours, and your heart sank. You already knew the truth, saw it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his lips pressed into a resigned line. 

“Vox—” 

“I have to,” he said softly, almost apologetically. 

You nodded, but your throat burned with unshed words. You understood. You always understood. Valentino was his path to power, to everything he worked for, and you… you were something he couldn’t let himself fully have. Not yet. 

Maybe... 

Maybe not ever. 

You didn’t cry when he carefully withdrew from you, the loss of him leaving you hollow. You didn’t cry as he fixed his clothes, each motion measured and deliberate. You didn’t cry when he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a touch that lingered longer than it should have. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my sunshine,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of regret and affection. 

You didn’t cry when the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the dim light of his office. Even as the sticky remnants of your union slipped down your thighs, even as the alcohol in your veins made the room spin, you didn’t cry. 

You couldn’t cry. 

Because you knew. 

From the moment you fell for Vox, you knew what you were signing up for—how loving him meant weathering the storms of heartbreak, how it meant making room for the shadow of Valentino in the space between you. 

He chose you for one moment. 

But the thought didn’t bring comfort. If anything, it hollowed you out further, the void he left behind aching with every beat of your heart. You let out a dry, humourless chuckle, the sound brittle and cracked. 

Oh. 

You weren’t okay with this after all. 

Were you? 

Please follow #DRP Smutmas 2024 to get all the latest updates of our stories!

Wanna hang out with me? Come talk to me at Voxtek Server!

[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.”

[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.