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starmatzz · 2 months ago

Note

Do you write omorashi?

i do!💙my first time writing to, so pardon me :D

bf!mingi x gf!reader | contains mature content

nsfw tags

omorashi, piss, piss kink, wetting, humiliation, praising, pet names, urinal denial, exhibitionism, dom/sub, forced urinal denial, bladder control

You were on a date with Mingi, strolling through the city on a beautiful day. Stopping by a cozy boba shop, he ordered you a large bubble tea without hesitation.

“Drink, sweetheart. Don’t wanna have a headache, hm?” he said with a gentle smile, his voice filled with warmth. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles as he held your hand, his touch reassuring and sweet.

It was a hot day, and the bubble tea had disappeared quickly, the cool sweetness refreshing you as you walked through the park with Mingi. Tossing the empty cup into the trash, you sighed in relief, only for him to suddenly pull out a bottle of water from his bag.

He handed you the bottle, his expectant gaze never leaving you. You looked up at him curiously, tilting your head.

“I’ve just finished a large bubble tea, baby,” you pouted, lips forming a small frown.

Mingi only shook his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His warmth contrasted the summer heat, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Drink up,” he murmured, voice gentle yet firm.

You huffed playfully but unscrewed the cap anyway, taking a small sip. He watched you with quiet satisfaction, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your side.

“Good girl,” he whispered, just enough for you to hear.

The day went on, and Mingi never let up. Every so often, he’d bring the bottle to your lips with that same gentle yet insistent look, and you’d drink without thinking much of it. His hand stayed comfortably around your waist, his touch grounding as you wandered through the park together.

But soon, a familiar pressure started building in your lower stomach. You shifted slightly, realizing that all the liquid you’d been drinking was catching up to you.

Mingi noticed your fidgeting and glanced down at you. “You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with concern, but there was also a hint of amusement in his eyes—like he already knew.

You bit your lip, hesitating. “I… need to pee,” you admitted quietly, cheeks heating up.

Mingi’s lips twitched, clearly holding back a laugh. “Really?” he teased, squeezing your waist lightly, “I don't see a bathroom anywhere though, and we still need to go buy groceries.”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in, his husky voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Mingi,” you whispered, half in disbelief, half in something else entirely.

He only chuckled, pulling you even closer, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. “Guess you gotta be a good girl and hold it,” he murmured again, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your hip, sending another wave of heat through you.

Walking into the mall hand in hand with Mingi, you felt your body grow tense with every passing minute. The cool air-conditioning was a relief against the summer heat, but it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through your body—not from the temperature, but from the struggle to hold it in.

Your steps slowed slightly, thighs pressing together instinctively as you fought against the growing pressure. Mingi, of course, noticed immediately. His grip on your hand tightened, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were filled with amusement and something darker beneath the surface.

“What's the matter, sweetheart?” he murmured, leaning in just enough for only you to hear.

You shot him a glare, your cheeks burning. “This is your fault,” you huffed, shifting on your feet.

He chuckled, utterly unbothered, his free hand resting lightly on your lower back. “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “But I wonder how long my good girl can last.”

“Mingi,” you warned, your voice a mix of frustration and something dangerously close to anticipation.

He only grinned, tugging you a little closer as you weaved through the crowd. “Let’s take our time, yeah?” he teased, his fingers pressing just slightly against your back, as if testing your resolve.

Mingi hummed softly as he flipped through a rack of shirts, completely at ease while you stood beside him, barely able to focus. The pressure in your lower stomach was unbearable now, and every passing second felt like torture.

Holding up a shirt, he turned to you with big, innocent eyes. “What do you think about this one, baby?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if he wasn’t fully aware of your current predicament.

You clenched your fists, shifting on your feet as you swallowed down another wave of desperation. “Mingi, please…” you whined, your voice coming out shaky, laced with both frustration and urgency.

His lips twitched, fighting back a smirk as he placed the shirt back on the rack. “Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

You shot him a pleading look, your legs pressing together instinctively. “You know what,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you tried to keep your composure.

Mingi let out a soft chuckle, stepping closer until his lips were just inches from your ear. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that made your heart stutter. “But I just love seeing you like this.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as Mingi’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his broad frame pressing against your back. His touch was warm, comforting—until his hands slid down slightly, applying the faintest pressure against your already full bladder.

Your whole body tensed. “Mingi,” you whimpered, grabbing onto his wrists to stop him, but he didn’t budge.

A shaky breath left you as you clenched your thighs together, your entire body burning from both embarrassment and something else entirely.

“Mingi, please,” you tried again, your voice softer this time, more desperate.

Suddenly, Mingi pulled out the cursed water bottle again, the plastic crinkling slightly in his grip as he raised it to your lips. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you looked up at him. His usual playful expression was gone, replaced by something darker—something that left no room for disagreement.

“Please…” you whispered, voice shaky, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

He didn’t say a word. His gaze was steady, unwavering, filled with a quiet dominance that sent a shiver down your spine. With one hand still resting on your waist, he tilted the bottle ever so slightly, the cool water threatening to spill past the rim.

“Drink,” he murmured, his voice low, firm.

Your lips parted, but you hesitated, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was testing you, pushing you, waiting to see if you’d obey.

Your body screamed at you to refuse—to beg, to plead—but the weight of his stare, the way his fingers pressed into your hip, sent a different kind of heat through you.

Slowly, you took a sip, the liquid cool against your lips yet making your entire body feel unbearably warm.

Mingi smirked, satisfied, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your hip. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice barely above a whisper.

The minutes dragged on, each step feeling like an eternity as you tried to hold it together. The pressure had become unbearable, and you were so close to losing control. Every movement felt like it made things worse, the burning need to pee overwhelming your senses. You gripped Mingi’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve as your eyes pleaded with him.

“Please… Mingi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort to stay composed.

He glanced down at you, the usual teasing glint replaced by something deeper—a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He could see you were on the verge of breaking, and he seemed to enjoy every second of it.

“Let go then,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought you might lose it. You shook your head, too embarrassed, too overwhelmed to give in, but Mingi didn’t budge. He gently tugged you behind the mall, where it was quieter, away from the bustling crowd.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmured, his hand on your back, guiding you forward. “But you don’t have to hold it anymore.”

His words were like a wave crashing over you, and despite the embarrassment, the relief that came with his permission was overwhelming. You looked up at him, desperate, and for the first time, you realized he wasn’t just playing with you—he was going to let you go.

Mingi pressed you gently against the wall, his arms wrapping securely around you, keeping you close. His warmth surrounded you, but it did nothing to ease the overwhelming embarrassment burning through you.

Then, his hand pressed firmly against your bladder, and a shaky whimper escaped your lips as your body betrayed you. Your fingers tightened around his arms, your face buried in his chest as heat flooded your cheeks.

You let go.

The relief was almost instant, washing over you like a tidal wave, but the humiliation made it hard to enjoy it fully. Your body trembled slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut, too mortified to move.

Mingi’s grip on you never wavered. He leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head as he whispered, “Nobody’s watching, don’t worry. Just me.”

His voice was low, soothing, yet laced with that unmistakable amusement. You could feel the smirk on his lips as he glanced around, making sure the two of you were still alone.

You let out a soft, embarrassed whine as you felt the warm liquid trickling down your legs, your body trembling from both relief and mortification. A quiet sob escaped your lips, your fingers gripping Mingi’s arms even tighter as you buried your face in his chest, too ashamed to look up.

Mingi's smirk widened as he took in the sight before him, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh look at you, look at you,” he teased, his voice filled with a mix of affection and mirth. “Couldn't hold it in and wet yourself, hmm? You're so dirty.”

The contrast between your humiliation and the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating thing in the world—sent a shiver through you.

His fingers brushed against your lower back in slow, teasing circles, his warmth pressing against you as if to remind you that you weren’t alone.

“You did so well, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, the praise sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s go,” Mingi said, grabbing your hand and leading you toward the mall bathrooms.

You waddled behind him, your face burning with embarrassment, every step a reminder of what had just happened.

As you reached the restroom, he suddenly stopped and pulled something from his bag. Your eyes widened as he handed you a neatly folded skirt and a fresh pair of underwear. New pair of sneakers, you wanted for a long time, followed after, along with socks.

“A reward,” he said smoothly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Change into this.”

You hesitated, still stunned by how prepared he was. “Mingi… You planned this,” you muttered, gripping the clothes with shaky hands.

He only winked, smirking as he leaned in. “Maybe,” he teased, his voice low and knowing. “But you were such a good girl for me. You deserve something nice, don’t you, y/n?”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly turned toward the bathroom, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze any longer. As you stepped inside, heart pounding, you realized one thing—Mingi wasn’t just teasing you.

He owned you in that moment, and you both knew it.

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curlyfriesgalore · 3 months ago

Text

curly can't sing.

as the title says, it's a headcanon i randomly had when playing my mouthwashing sims 4 household (lol), where swansea and curly went karaoke-ing at 'waterside warble' in san myshuno. curly sang horrendously since he just gained the skill. though, it made me think, how funny would it be if curly genuinely couldn't sing for shit?

it's the one thing jimmy has leverage over (he's no better, really), and curly is painfully aware of his tone-deafness, so he never reveals it unless it's for a special occasion... with an extra special someone there to watch him perform (miserably).

that being said, daisuke suggested the crew do something fun to celebrate the completion of their shipment, so why not do some karaoke?

★ a sfw one-shot broken down into bullets with chat-format segments for dialogue. fair warning, there are a few suggestive moments, but the implications aren't overt. [2,817 words]

☆ gen tags: set in 2005. gn! reader who is a doctor and a great singer. none of the game's events happen, so they're just a bunch of folks doing regular space deliveries, but jimmy is still an unpleasant ass that gets on the reader's nerves. reader and curly are crushing on each other (they're on the brink of knowing it's reciprocal). manfailure curly but he's trying his best... whatever that best is (lmfao, accurate to canon 😭). curly -> grant (name switch at some point in the fic). there's one moment where curly and reader share a glass, so just letting you know in case you're not a fan of that :)

[i'm still on break, but i wanted to write something more concise and improvised in under a day! and i won't lie, i find fics including everyone to be so fun to write. i really love testing out my characterizations of the crew and have them interact in relaxed scenarios. art by kafukafukadayo on twt. —iris🌠]

while you bask in the dim hues of red lights, the instrumental of an electropop softens into silence as it tandems with your pants. when you peel your eyes open, everyone's gaping their mouths and raising their brows—even jimmy, ever the unimpressed, is surprisingly taken aback, and you're taken aback by that alone.

daisuke springs from the leather sofa. he bounds towards you, grips both your shoulders, and shakes you senselessly, his hand still somehow clutching his open flip phone.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"doc, that... was... INSANE!" he jostles your body back and forth between his pauses, swaying you with all his might as he nearly forces the microphone to drop out your hand. daisuke swishes his head, finally letting you go, "wh—buh?! how do you—are you imogen heap reincarnated?!"

anya snorts, sounding like a stuffed trumpet. "dai, imogen's alive! she's only 27." swansea follows suit, his deep chuckle rumbling through his belly, crossed arms resting atop. "pfft, that's far from dead."

daisuke rolls his eyes away from the two, "tch, you get what i mean! like, look—!" he speedily dials the buttons on his phone, opening his gallery and brandishing a pixelated clip of you singing along to the mbira melody and string bass beats, the crunchy electronic syncs with your ethereal mezzo-soprano. daisuke snaps the phone shut with his palm, raising his free hand in surrender. "if that's not the lead singer of frou frou, then i don't know who is." he takes the remote, looking through what next to sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

amid the nurse, mechanic, and intern belting their lungs out to "hey ya!" curly sits, and you stand before him. his ocean eyes swim in awe as he cranes his neck to face you. you're glowing. your head perfectly aligns right in front of the carmine light; its luminescence filters around your shadowed outline, like you were some angel graced from above with an even more angelic voice to come with. it was sort of comical how the largest man in the room felt so small beneath your presence.

there's a dew of sweat hanging below your bottom lip, and curly can't help but bite his. that is until he slips his teeth back in when you cushion yourself onto the couch, spreading your legs wide with an arm lounging on the headrest behind him. curly huffed a laugh and leaned into the shiny sofa, letting his scalp fall onto your forearm.

even with your tongue tucked inside your parted lips, curly could practically see your papillae beg for freshness. he smiles, momentarily stretching his back away from the couch to grab your drink and hands it to you. a raspy thanks escape your parched throat.

your neck bobs with every gulp, drinking like it's the last you'll ever taste water. curly tries his hardest not to let his gaze linger longer than it should, but the way your head tilts back and your hand grips the glass, he can't help but swallow some of that imaginary water himself.

a contented sigh leaves you. you flick your eyes to him and just about see the last of his adam's apple slurp up nothing. you gesture the drink, asking if he wants it. curly is briefly hesitant until he turns to see his empty cup and shrugs, "sure, why not?"

as curly takes his sip, he notices the beaded sweat shining on your lip more notably than before. his brows raise ever so subtly, ruminating his next moves. when you still fail to realize the wetness glistening at your mouth's rim, he pulls the drink away from himself.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hey, can i...?"

your eyes widen softly as you watch his thumb inch toward your jaw. you flick your view down, puffing out your lower lip to see a dab of sweat cling onto you for dear life. you look back at him and nod. curly gently takes a hold of your chin, thumbing the sudor away while his remaining fingers brush against your neck. you take in the moment, eyes half-lidded and lips ever so parted. he wasn't glancing at you, but you could tell he wanted to, for his warm breath quiets the longer you study him—noticing the way his tongue peeks out his mouth or how his golden greying hair falls over the wrinkles etched into his temple. "you know," moments before he drops his hand, he finally manages to look you in the eye, your faces merely inches apart. "your performance really gave me chills." you smirked, "is that why you didn't speak up?" your tease brought curly to a laugh, the bass in his voice strong. "i can't help but be mesmerized when that's how you sing, doc."

you hummed a titter, nodding to yourself as you thanked him with a delicate smile. "you can drop the formalities, grant. we're at a karaoke bar, not the tulpar."

whether or not you noticed the hitch in his breath, grant softened upon hearing his first name, oftentimes forgetting that's who he actually is. his head tilts down, blithely sighing before picking himself up to show you his grin, "okay, okay..." he momentarily chuckles, now resting his elbow on the headrest, propping it up, and leaning onto his knuckles next to your arm still lying there. "well, my point still stands. you have an incredibly captivating voice, y/n." "oh, stop it...!" you both become a blushing, giggling mess. your other hand finds its way to rest on your knee, which sits right against grant's. as you speak about your singing history, grant brings his free palm to his thigh, pretending to unintentionally graze his calloused fingers against your nails. he listens intently to how you'd belt out your favorite songs on repeat, albeit the sound of daisuke and anya screaming, "HEEEY YAAA!" and the tidbits of exhaustion lingering in his mind make your words muffle into incoherent jargon.

"but enough about me, i wanna hear you." you catch his eyes snapping away from both his and your legs smushing together, hoping you don't notice the blankness in his brain. "or are you just charming me to stall your big reveal, hm?"

grant's jaw falls, and utterances of filler words filter out his mouth, but before he can respond, daisuke catches wind of their conversation as outkast's song dies down in the background.

"oh, yeah!" daisuke takes a swig of his soda. after a sigh of satisfaction and couple of lip smacks, daisuke leaps from his end of the couch and motions to the two, microphone in hand. "it's your turn to solo, captain!"

"uhh, i don't know if i should..." grant sheepishly waves the mic away, his eyes shifting between everyone's expressions. daisuke is pouting and pleading with puppy eyes. anya just gives him a thumbs-up and a classic comforting smile. swansea is indifferent. jimmy, who's been leaning against the palm tree printed wall for the past four songs, beer in hand, grows an all-too-familiar smirk. then there's you, expectantly looking at him with overlaid eyes he wishes to see in a different setting... that of his bedroom—

"aww, why not, curl? we've done our parts. 's only fair you do yours, too." jimmy's tone was far from welcoming, sounding more like a jab than anything. you narrowed your sights at him, "didn't you only sing in the group ones?" jimmy shrugs. "look," after taking another chug of his can, raising his hands in defeat. "my karaoke quota's been filled. sorry." you simply roll your eyes. before the tension thickens, daisuke interjects, "ah, don't worry, cap. i bet your voice sounds super cool, like superhero cool! you've got that gruffness that swan's got... but y'know... less croaky n' stuff!" "'scuze me?" swansea lifts a single brow, anya stifles a laugh, and daisuke flails his hands in defense, "eh- i mean it as a compliment! you've got a sick voice, swansea." "emphasis on sick..." anya cheekily comments under her breath, and for the first time in forever, swansea's jaw drops. he coughs out a laugh that's been lodged in his throat for god knows how long and shakes his head, pointing his thumb at the giggling woman. "wowww, aren't you, the nurse, supposed to be fixing that?" anya nods to you, "only under doctor's orders." the two have a back and forth, but daisuke still stands in front of grant, intent on lending the mic to the man.

"i—okay..." grant crumbles under the pressure, caving in when you whisper a couple of encouragements. daisuke cheers, anya claps, swansea bobs his head in support, jimmy fakes a whoop, and you—genuinely—hype him up with a holler.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

grant purses his lip as he presses the buttons on the remote while daisuke guides him through the songs on the screen.

jimmy leaves his spot, his boot denting a scuff mark on the wallpaper. your nose flares, watching him carelessly toss the can into the bin as he makes his way to sandwich you between him and swansea, purposefully maximizing the width of how far he can stretch his legs.

you ignore him, opting to watch someone much cuter. grant turns to you, awkwardly smiling as you return a thumbs-up. he focuses back on daisuke, who's now raving over a song he definitely thinks grant should sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you know he's shit, right?" your brows contort into a furrow, still not looking at the man. "the fuck you mean?" you never had much patience for jimmy, of all people, so your courtesies never fail to fall short with him. "you know who i mean—him." jimmy gestures to grant, pointer finger flicking at the blond. "no shit, sherlock. i'm saying, what are you specifically referring to?" "obviously, his voice, sherlock." he drawls the two syllables, the stench of yeast and malt oozing out of his mouth and into your unfortunate nose. "he'll make your ears bleed, trust me." finally, you face him and stare at jimmy's smugness with an incredulous squint. seriously, how the fuck does grant put up with him? you couldn't even stand the guy's presence, let alone his incessant insults on grant himself. "do you do anything but complain?" you sneer. "nope." jimmy curtly replies, mouthing a pop after the 'p' as he claws a hand over the chips bowl, stuffing his face with grease. at this point, you weren't sure if you should stay annoyed or be slightly impressed with his sheer ability to find the worst in everything. "some fucking friend..." you say to yourself, already past the point of defeat. with his mouth still full of food, jimmy responds, "hey, as his friend, i'm actively warning you. i've known this guy long enough to be there for his first choir class." "whatever, we'll see." you huffed, relaxing on the couch, sitting much closer to swansea than the other. "it's not like you've got much credibility, anyway." you think back to moments ago, whenever it was jimmy's turn to sing his parts, his half-assed attempts barely constitutes as a grumble. jimmy snickers, "who says i'm denying that? just 'cause i don't care doesn't mean i'm wrong."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you have never been more relieved to hear a soft pop interlude, forcing the conversation to a close.

daisuke flops onto the sofa next to anya and flips open his phone, pressing record as the tv flashes the music video to "shape of my heart." you lean behind swansea and lock eyes with daisuke, who abashedly giggles when you mouth, 'you chose this, didn't you?' to which he nods excitedly.

ah, daisuke, ever the avid backstreet boys fanatic.

your eyes fall back to grant. the man fidgets with his microphone, and his shoe frantically taps to the beat, pursing his lips into a tight smile in hopes it will clench down the shivers rising with the guitar strums. you silently cheer him on when he starts humming, following the yellow highlight filling up the white text reading ♪ yeah, yeah ♪, and—

oh!

...oh

oh, god.

jimmy... wasn't wrong, far from it, actually—as much as it pains you to admit.

the very moment grant hits that ♪ baby ♪, it's all downhill from here. it's as if his pitch took a trip to six flags. his questionably paced breaths mimic a ride with an unnecessary amount of loop-the-loops, and his tone flip-flops between a coarse rasp and an oddly airy twang, like a reverse bungee slingshotting into the air.

grant's eyes squeeze shut, facing away from the crew. either he was incredibly invested or excruciatingly embarrassed, and with how he was really getting into that chorus, nobody could tell. he only ever peeks to look at you, though, clearly awaiting your approval, to whom you always beam, your face mixed in pity and affection.

as much as he sounded like a crow was clawing its way out of his esophagus, you couldn't help but find his attempts to be really wholesome. maybe it's your pre-existing bias, and maybe it's because this feels like he's serenading every line at you, but it's hard not to fall for this vocal failure of a man—even though everyone else's expressions say otherwise.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"told you so," jimmy taunts in your ear, sickeningly chuckling at grant without hesitation. "woo! curly, you go, dude!" he cheers, voice dipped in mockery. all you do is click your tongue and face the others, choosing to listen in on anya and swansea. "you sure i'm the one that's 'sick'?" swansea jokes, albeit laced with genuine disgust. he leans to you, whispering the same revulsion, "you both need to rethink your careers."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

anya simply grimaces, trying her hardest to make it look like a grin, but her knit brows and frown give way.

daisuke's eyes say everything. they're wide, and his pupils constrict like he's a cartoon. his hand hesitantly grips onto his flip phone, unsure if he should keep the camera going. as his leg rapidly bounces and his teeth bite down on his paint-chipped nails, his gaze slowly turns away from grant's caterwauling and towards the rest of the crew.

moreover, you're just as guilty. although you're not irked by this newfound fact, a wince washes over you the moment you are out of grant's sights.

suddenly, after the first chorus, the song reveals a blue highlight painting the white text. grant falters, his voice shrinking when he sees the two primary colors play different lyrics simultaneously. everyone takes notice, their faces easing from cringe to confusion. then it clicks.

this was a duet.

daisuke palms his face with a slap—that's his bad. you skim the room, and everyone's exchanging glances, implicitly questioning who'll aid their poor captain.

without hesitation, you jump to the rescue. snatching a mic from the coffee table and quickly singing your parts, striding your way towards grant, who immediately picks up where he's left off, still shrill as ever.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

♪ i'M hEre WIDTH myYy...! confEh shion ♪, in a sheer attempt at confidence, grant belts his lyrics. his dimples dig into his smile, sending you the much-needed energy to sing your lines. ♪ got nothing to hide no more ♪. you sway your head in accordance with the melody, ball up your fist, and let your fingers spread far and wide, wiping the air as you and grant's steps magnetize toward each other. ♪ i don't kNOw whe...rE to st-art ♪; warbling his words, grant's gaze softens when you're within arms reach. he lowers his neck, brings the mic close to his lips, and grazes your forearm, wishing he could feel the flush skin of your waist and reel you in. ♪ but to show you... ♪, as both lyrics meld into one, you take his hand into yours. ♪...the shA-pe of mY hEart ♪

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke bursts into song, singing the first line of the last verse, startling everyone in the process. anya joins in, now standing with daisuke as both pull swansea to his feet. the mechanic begrudgingly croons along to his intern's baritone and his nurse's soprano.

daisuke beckons for jimmy to come with him, but in classic jimmy zare fashion, he remains stagnant. the younger man frowns. though, he quickly reminds himself that there are only five members in BSB, anyway. so daisuke hands jimmy his phone instead, telling the co-pilot to make sure that everyone's in frame.

they've turned this into a concert for a one-man audience, who's hating every second of it.

save for jimmy, currently grousing under his breath, the crew wraps their arms around each other's shoulders and chants their hearts out to the R&B melody.

as the track nears its final moments, you and grant rest your hands on each other's waists, pulling your bodies close as your head leans on his pec. neither of you realizes that you've left the other three, who are all too busy rocking side to side to notice the two of you in a side embrace, minds too carried away to feel jimmy's prickly leer.

[oh my god, i genuinely didn't even intend for this ending, but here we are 🥹! i hope you guys liked this, and if anyone has comments on how i wrote everyone's dialogue and mannerisms, like what worked, or if you have suggestions for any additions, please let me know! i still need to learn more about writing anya, since in canon, it's hard to get a read of her real personality through jimmy's lens. still, so far, i like to think she enjoys teasing people she's comfortable with. as for swansea, i'm trying to lean into his meanness more, but i'm saving most of that for a daisuke fic centered on swansea's pov, so we'll see what i do when i get there! —iris🌠]

#🌠 leads to my masterlist #realistically though i think curly would be pretty good at singing #he seems like the type to have good breath control because of how much he frequents the gym #btw could you guys tell which song i made you sing at the start? 🤭#i also hope you guys get what i was doing with curly's lines in the duet 😭#i think the pov might be a little all over the place? i kind of intended it to just be general and not really stick to anyone specifically #curly x reader #curly x you #mouthwashing x reader #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing #karaoke #captain curly #nurse anya #intern daisuke #engineer swansea #copilot jimmy #grant curly #anya musume #daisuke juarez #jimmy zare #BYE i accidentally made jimmy agree that he's wrong when he's being a jerk to the reader lmaooo. it's fixed though

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