#there’s definitely a lot going on in this one lol.

[fullflowerking]

A. Removing my name because some of you can't behave 😁

B. I don't remember my wings that well, but definitely closer to a lighter shade. Perhaps bronze or sandy brown

C. I was a lower ranking angel, tasked with observing humanity. Not intervening

D. See above

E. I didn't fall, I reincarnated to earth as a human being and I still consider my species to be an angel

F. I remember being in a beautiful garden at some point. My mind felt light and airy, and I "felt" things around me with spatial awareness instead of objectively viewing it. If you asked me to describe a single plant or creature in this garden I wouldn't be able to.

G. I resonate with the element fire because I was born in December. My dad was sick with cancer when I was born, and they told him he might not live. After I was born, he got better. I always attach this to the transformative power of fire, and my angelic abilities are still attached to me in utero.

H. I'm a biblical angel, so I guess more likely the Christian god. I don't remember him though, just a faint memory of Him being present.

I. I feel I became confined to earth after observing humans for so long. I think at some point I wanted to be involved more than I was, so I decided to join.

K. The advantage of being an angel on earth really depends on your definition of an advantage. My definition is having more freedom, being able to touch, see and experience the world like a proper mammal rather than like a divine being. You miss out on a lot when you lack the 5 senses.

L. A disadvantage. There are many. When you're an angel, you don't get tired, you don't need to go to the bathroom, you don't need to eat. Suddenly all these things that make you human become an exhausting task that you have to be involved in, all the time. There are more, but I want to keep this short.

M. I was around during the holy war. The crusade before crusades. I remember a few angels starting to feel less angelic over time, and it was like a ripple effect amongst the loyal. Suddenly, the side I was on with my brother Michael felt less and less like the winning side, and more like the side you pick when there's no better option. I desired the same freedoms as the other side but I suppose I was too cowardly to take it.

N. No one around me knows my identity. I feel like it's unnecessary to tell anyone. I can never go back to what I was. The best thing I can do is live my life as heavenly as I can in my current life.

O. Funnily enough, I started suspecting i was something more at a very young age. I didn't know quite what. I remember having mental shifts in the church growing up, and having visions about winged creatures when I was around 10. I discovered angels outside of the Bible and for the first time I felt like these things were the best thing I could use to describe myself.

P. Lol. I was hoping this question would come up. O fortuna is at the top of my list. It always gives me chills. Any songs in Latin or slavic-based languages always makes me go into mental shifts.

Q. To feel angelic, I watch movies with angels in them, read books with angels in them, exercise and ride my bike to just feel the wind against my face. I go to the park with a long black coat on and listen to music, and just watch people. Sometimes I talk to them, but not often because I can be quite introverted.

R. See above. I also veil on occasion, especially when I'm around religious buildings or graveyards or when meditating. (I do not pray to the Christian god)

S. I'm not repelled by religious buildings. I'm also not attracted to them. But when I step inside a place that has been cleansed, anointed or used for worship, I can get mental shifts and my vibration raises to the point that I believe that religious figures and children can feel.

T. Good question. Unfortunately I don't know what my halo looked like. I'm assuming it was closer to light than a physical object, maybe light that my divinity gave off. Like a rainbow spectrum or pure white. 🤷‍♀️ no clue.

U. If I did, I don't remember.

V. Not prophetic dreams, but I've had vivid dreams and nightmares about snakes, naked human beings, violence, starvation and fire. I have had many dreams of what I believe to be pre-flood events on earth, where animosity & disbelief became more rampant between Him and humans.

W. Nope

X. Anywhere that has a beautiful garden. I also like fountains, aquariums, the forest and jungle

Y. Nope

X. I remember being in Europe at some point. I don't know exactly where, I just remember hearing some francophone language being spoken, and there was a lot of political unrest. Unfortunately, the details were never that important to anyone, and as I've mentioned before, I didn't see things the same way as an angel as I do now. My best guess would be middle ages or less. They seemed to be very complicated with the Catholic church back then.

I hope you enjoyed my answers as much as i enjoyed answering them

Angelic Ask Meme

I’ve been meaning to make one of these for a while…send some to my ask, and feel free to reblog!

A-what is your angelic name? B-what did your wings look like? C-what are you an angel of? D-what order or rank of angel are you? E-did you fall? If so, why? F-describe a random angelic memory G-what element/s do you align with? H-do you remember or follow any gods? I-do you know or suspect why you are earthbound? J-what other angels were you close to? K-an advantage to being an angel on earth? L-a disadvantage to being an angel on earth? M-were you around during the war? If so, what side were you on? N-does anyone irl know you’re an angel? O-how long have you known you’re Angelic? P-what is a song that reminds you of being angelic, or of an angelic memory? Q-what is something you do to feel angelic? R-have anything you wear that makes you feel like your angelic self? S-are you attracted to places of worship, or repelled by them? T-what did your halo look like? U-any angels you had a rivalry with? V-ever have any prophetic dreams, or things like that? W-are you an empath/psychic/medium/etc? X-any places on earth that remind you of home? Y-ever had irl contact with other divines in this life? Z-have any past earthbound life memories?

[highprettybabyy]

And they were roommates-

jenna ortega x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, a lot of teasing, alcohol, shy and dumbass reader, swearing, heavy make out session, slight smut?

AN: i saw this idea on instagram and i saw another idea from a reddit story and decided to combine the two lol

this is internal monologue

—//—

Jenna was the hottest girl you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. Unfortunately, she was also your roommate. Not that this was bad but she was just a massive tease and this caused you to be in a constant state of gay panic, so it was just unfortunate that you were constantly blushing and stuttering over your words in her presence. She, however, was enjoying every second of it.

It all started about six months after she moved in. You were getting along really well, I mean as well as you could in your panicked state, you guys had regular movie nights, you would bring her her favourite coffee and a pastry every time you came home from work, she would always cook extra dinner for you so you wouldn’t have to cook after a long day, you would do chores together whilst listening to music, etc. Every time she thanked you or did something for you, blood rushed to your cheeks and her tone left you a stuttering mess. It was quite a sight, you being almost a solid foot taller than the brunette and shaking from the chokehold she has on you.

-

The first time Jenna almost killed you (figuratively; even though your heart rate was alarming) was during one of your movie nights. It was Jenna’s turn to pick the movie this time. She was grabbing some snacks from the kitchen when she told you to put on the first movie of the Fear Street trilogy. Already cosying on the couch with the warmest, fluffiest blanket in your collection, you obliged and grabbed the chilly metal remote to fulfil her request. Jenna returned with a bowl of popcorn and two glasses of wine. She put the items on the small table in front of you, moved the blanket so she would be underneath it too, and sat close enough next to you so your thighs, hips, and shoulders were touching. You felt your ears become hot from all the blood rushing to your ears, your cheeks definitely turning a dark red. Jenna acted like she didn’t see anything and leaned forward to hand you your glass of wine, leaning back into the sofa so take a sip of her glass. She smacked her lips and turned to look at you “You can start the movie Y/N/N.” Your eyes widened, realising you had been staring at her lips the entire time, “Oh, y-yeah of course.”

-

Oh well this is it, this is how I’m going to die. The two girls on screen were in the middle of a hefty make out session. Jenna had moved so she was basically half on top of you, stroking your thigh ever since the first 15 minutes went by. You were basically gnawing on your bottom lip, simply biting it didn’t suffice, your entire body heating up from the contact, a thin line of sweat forming on your forehead. You’re sure that your face resembled an overripe tomato at this point. Of course - Jenna noticed and decided that you weren��t close enough to death already.

“Hmm, someone’s enjoying this, aren’t they?” Jenna said with a smirk on her face. The noise you let out was fucking embarrassing. “Well n-no, i-i mean, y-y but n-not -“ Jenna smiled and just moved her hand to your neck to lightly scratch the area there. Your eyes rolled back and you almost let at a moan at the action. The brunettes lips curled up into a soft smirk and let out a hum before turning her attention back to the movie.

-

Everything changed from that moment on, as she became so much more determined to break you. You were in the kitchen taking over the cooking for once, since Jenna had an exam that evening. You weren’t a bad cook or anything, but you liked Jenna doting on you and feeding you every night. You had offered time and time again to let you pay her back, but she’d make some remarks that left you blushing and speechless so the argument would be dropped for that night. Years of experience left you knowing that after a long day, all you want is a nice comforting meal, and you had no issue in coming up with a recipe.

In the oven, a herb and butter rubbed spatchcocked chicken laid roasting next to some ‘smashed’ potatoes. On the stove, rainbow carrots had been blanched and were now getting some nice grill marks from the grill pan. In the fridge, a kind of big bowl of chocolate mousse was already set. You had just pulled the chicken from the oven and were basting carrots when you heard a key slip into the lock, slightly rattling the door. She came inside, kicked off her shoes, put on her slippers and shuffled tiredly into the kitchen. She moved behind you, put her arms around your waist and laid her head against your back while you worked.

You tensed, “H-hi Jenna, h-how did your exam go?”. She nuzzled her nose against your shirt “Hmm, it was fucking long, quickest student in our class took three hours to fill it in, it took me like four, we didn’t get a break so I’m absolutely exhausted. But what you’re cooking smells really, really good.. do you happen to have some extra? I didn’t have time to go to the store yesterday and I-“ You turned around in her arms, “Yeah of course I cooked extra, I wanted enough for us both to eat tonight and even some extra so you can have it tomorrow for lunch.” Now only realising the position you were in, you tried to look literally everywhere else except those enchanting brown eyes. Jenna melted at your words and grabbed your face. She played with the baby hairs in your neck for a bit before dragging your face down, to leave a very slow kiss on your cheek, making sure that her lipstick transferred to your skin. “You’re the best, baby.”

-

You were lying on your bed in pain. Someone spilled a drink at work and when you went to go clean it up, you slipped and fell on your back. The doctor had prescribed you bedrest for at least two days, and your work was lenient and gave you a full week off on top of that. Jenna knocked on your door, a bottle of warming lotion in her hand, she came in when you answered. “Hey Y/N/N, how’s your back? I thought maybe you could use a nice massage to loosen those muscles hmm?” You were lucky that your face was already shoved in your pillow so she wouldn’t see the blood rushing to your cheeks. She straddled your back before you could answer. “Can I take this off?” She asked, pulling at your button-down. “Uh huh” You muffled through the pillow. “No, come on, use your words baby.” You squeezed the pillow covering your face “oh my god, you’re trying to kill me.” “What was that Y/N/N?” “Oh, nothing, I-I mean, yeah you can take it off.”

She pulled off your shirt, which luckily wasn’t buttoned because you honestly couldn’t be bothered with the extra movement, a black sports bra the only thing covering your upper body now, and squirted a dollop of lotion in her hands, rubbing them together to warm it up. “Just relax ok, but let me know if something hurts.” with that she started smoothing her hands across the muscles of your back, barely applying pressure. “How’s this?” Jenna inquired out loud. “T-s exellent, th-nks” You sleepily said, comfort like this had been a rare occurrence. You were asleep within minutes, Jenna’s hands working magic on the aching muscles and offering you a break from the pounding pain.

-

This continued even after your back was better. Jenna came in like once every few days to massage you, every time her hands wandering to more intimate areas of your body, but never actually going there. This session was particularly charged, it felt like a thick cloud of sexual tension hung in the room, almost suffocating you. She had decided that apparently the front of your body needed some alleviation as well. You were slightly propped up on a few pillows, Jenna straddling you while she ran her hands across your upper body. She was getting bolder and bolder every day, and you were on the verge of breaking. She lightly brushed the underside of your breast, seemingly by accident, and you shot up before you could think. Jenna didn’t seem surprised and didn’t even flinch at your sudden movement.

She quirked her right eyebrow up in question when you didn’t say anything for a solid five seconds, staring into her eyes. “Did I hurt you?” She questioned. “Euhm-m, n-no no, you didn’t hurt me.” You decided in that moment that you had enough, and that you had to make a move. You didn’t know how she felt about you and from the outside anyone could see that Jenna was also head over heels for you, but you were rightfully scared. She is your roommate and you would hate to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home by making a move on her. She didn’t respond - her eyes locked onto yours and trying to make you squirm. After thinking about everything for a few seconds you decided on something.

“How about I pay you back for all these massages you’ve given me?” Now it was your turn to see her flustered and wide eyed. This made a smirk play on your lips, finally seeing the effect you had on the smaller woman. Jenna wordlessly agreed by getting off your lap and lying down on her back. “My thighs have been feeling a little sore, maybe you could start with those?” She pondered with something unidentifiable in her eyes.

This girl was actually killing you. With every swipe of your hands, a moan or praise left her lips, making you feel all sorts of things. Before she was wearing some high waisted jean shorts, but she decided that you didn’t have enough room to work with and took them off, now only lacy black panties covering her. Your mouth felt dry. You decided it would be more respectful to look into her eyes than anywhere else, even though you desperately wanted to, but looking into those deep brown eyes almost took away the last shred of resolve you had.

“You know I’m actually feeling some tension at my hips.” She bit her lips whilst making the comment. Your mouth still felt dry as you raked your hands a little higher, squeezing them lightly at your destination. “Here?” You sounded out of breath. “Hmm, no a little higher.” You dragged your hands an inch up, almost reaching the fabric of her panties “Here?” Now you also felt like you’ve ran a marathon, heartbeat going haywire. “Hmm, no, you’re almost there.” Fuck it.

Your fingertips slid under the fabric, following the curves of her body, wrists soon joining by how far you suddenly ran your hands up, taking her hips fully - but gently - in your hands, and gave them a light squeeze. “How ‘bout now?” Jenna replied after swiping her tongue across her bottom lip, the action getting your full attention. “Perfect.” She replied, seemingly innocent eyes staring up at you, but you saw the mischief behind them. You continued staring at each other, your hands squeezing every so often, still “massaging” her of course. You finally saw that she wanted you too, the only thing stopping you this game that she was playing. She licked her lip again and this time you actually cracked.

You moved her hips towards you and practically fell on top of her as you kissed her. It was desperate and fast, Jenna’s hands clawing at your back, neck, shoulders - basically everything and anything she could reach to get you closer to her. Months of pent up sexual tension - and frustration - finally pouring out. Breaths and moans slipping out of your mouths as you finally taste each other. Tongues fighting for dominance, but eventually you give in and let Jenna explore your mouth freely, this also prompted her to flip you over so your back was against the headboard and climb on top of you, grinding her hips against yours.

When she needed air, she moved down towards your pulse point. “You can’t-“ she bit your neck, “believe-“ licked it, “how long” kissed it, “I’ve been waiting for this” and moved her head to kiss your lips again. "I think I can, Jenna." You let out in a short breath.

Hands were quickly roaming to everywhere you both could reach, grabbing at each other just to feel the warm skin you both have been craving for. Jenna was grinding into you, a visible wet patch leaking on your sweatpants, a dark grey trail left behind on the fabric. Your hands grabbed underneath her shirt and bra, rubbing at the soft skin of her back.

The moans she let out were making your head dizzy. Your hands went to her hips to help her speed up her movements. Jenna kept switching between biting her teeth into your neck or throwing her head back in pleasure, like she couldn't decide what she needed in that moment. Her hips started moving erratically, and your sweatpants were almost completely soaked.

Her tempo started faltering and you knew she was close. You increased the grip on her hips and with a few final movements, she collapsed on your shoulder with a silent scream. Her body tensing and relaxing in your hold as she got pushed over the edge.

"Fuck- That was- fuck." Jenna gasped out with exerted breath. And before you could even comprehend it, Jenna's hand snaked in your sweatpants, her fingers collecting your arousal as she slowly started touching you where you needed. "Let me make you feel this good."

-

You woke up to see the room a complete mess. Clothes tossed everywhere, almost all the sheets a bundled mess on the floor, crooked furniture and a halfway closed curtain and it looked like everything on the desk had been knocked over.

It wasn't a bother though. Not when Jenna was cuddling you like this, her chest pressed against you, her legs thrown over yours, and making quite possibly the cutest sounds ever as she snoozed contently.

--//--

AN: hope you liked it :) <3

[rizzanon]

silly little sanaerio that came to me in a dream (literally)

reader tries to sneak out to go to the park with caitlyn and adrien and gets caught by damien

to shut up damien reader takes him with them and they all go park tgt idfk

damien refuses to admit he wanted to just spend time with reader , he wasnt actually gonna snitch

when sneaking back in they all domino onto eachother (reader walks in first then stops beecause ruh roh they got caught) and damien bumps into reader, caitlyn bumps into adrien and eyeah

tgis prollh doesng make sensw idk what im on abt tyoing this half aslddp

-🍰

HELLO WHAT?? I LOVE THIS (although this exact scene won’t happen, i think it’s cute that damian is forcing reader to let him tag along so that he won’t snitch—literally younger sibling core and there will definitely be a moment or two like in this undoing fate (for the bants/fluff) lol)

reader: (quietly tries to sneak toward the back entrance of Wayne Manor, bag slung over your shoulder)

Damian: (from the shadows) And just where do you think you’re going?

reader: (startles, spinning around) Damian?! What the— What are you even doing here?

Damian: (arms crossed) The better question is: what are you doing? Sneaking out like some common criminal. Suspicious, don’t you think?

reader: I’m just going to the park to meet Caitlyn and Adrien, okay? It’s no big deal. Go back to brooding or whatever it is you do.

Damian: Tch. You’re sneaking out to meet those two? Again? Does Father even know about this?

reader: (glaring) Do you know how to mind your own business?

Damian: I could let this slide… or I could inform Father. Imagine his reaction when he hears about this little escapade of yours.

reader: You wouldn’t dare.

Damian: (raising an eyebrow) Try me.

reader: (groaning, pinches the bridge of your nose) Fine. You want to come? You can come. Just don’t ruin it for me, okay?

Damian: …..Hmph. I suppose I could accompany you. Someone has to keep you out of trouble.

reader: (mutters) Yeah, because I’m the one who causes trouble.

(You and Damian reach the park where Adrien and Caitlyn are waiting for you)

Caitlyn: Took you long enough. (gaze shifts to Damian) Oh, you brought company.

Damian: (flatly) I assure you, I did not want to be here. Someone needed to supervise you lot.

reader: (rolling eyes) Oh, please. He just didn’t want me to have fun without him.

Damian: (sharply) I don’t care about your fun. I have better things to do.

Adrien: (teasing) Sure, sure. And yet here you are.

Caitlyn: (grinning) Well, since you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. Or at least try.

Damian: (grumbling) I’m not here to enjoy anything.

[pretend you all hangout at a nearby night fun fair, and afterwards, after much begging, Adrien and Caitlyn managed to convince you to let them crash at the manor for the night]

reader: (whispering) Alright, stay quiet. No one’s around, so if we’re careful, we’re good.

Damian: (scoffing) Speak for yourself. I don’t get caught.

reader: (rolling eyes) Right, because you’re oh-so-perfect.

reader: (steps inside cautiously, but freezes mid-step as you hear someone—) Oh no—

Damian: (not realizing you stopped, walks straight into your back) Watch where you’re—

(Adrien, close behind, bumps into Damian, and Caitlyn crashes into Adrien. It’s a domino effect, leaving all four of you in a heap at the door.)

Adrien: Why do I always end up on the bottom?

Caitlyn: You’re just unlucky, I guess.

Damian: Get off me, you imbeciles!

reader: Shh! You’re gonna—

Alfred: (calmly stepping forward) I trust you all have a good explanation for this?

[All four of you collectively freeze, dread sinking in.]

Adrien: (still on the floor) …I’m just gonna stay down here.

Damian: This is entirely her fault. (points at you)

reader: Yeah, this is going to be a long night….

(i might write a full on oneshot for this lol i actually love this idea)

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What Jewelry do They Like Seeing Their S/O Wear?

Marko

- ear cuffs

- He really likes the look of jewelry on the upper part of ear

- He even learned how to make them with wire and some pliers!

- He used the boys as guenie pigs at first till he got the shape of the wire right

- He stabbed them multiple times during the whole process lol

- There was a period when all three boys wore one of Marko’s creations

- Once he felt confident in his jewelry making abilities he custom made one for his S/O

- It matches his own earring that he wears

Paul

- anklets

- He doesn’t know why, but seeing his S/O wear anklets really does it for him

- He doesn’t care whether it’s one of those dainty ones made out of delicate chains with little pearls and dangling pendants or a thick leather one with music notes painted on it

- If him and S/O are lounging on the couch with their feet in his lap he can’t help admire how pretty your legs look with a anklet dangling from them

Dwayne

- rings

- I could see him with a S/O that wears a lot of rings.

- He loves the way they feel when you hold hands, or when you rub his shoulders

- Or when you wraps your arms around Dwayne’s waist when you two go out for a motorcycle ride.

- His S/O catches Dwayne staring at their hands a lot

- Which you think is adorable, but Dwayne gets flustered when you call him out for it

David

- earnings

- Just like Marko, he really likes seeing his S/O accessorizes their ears

- Whether you only have your first holes or second or even third he loves the way they look with earrings in them

- If your wearing dangle earring he likes to walk up to you and lightly tug on them to get your attention

- If you lose a backing while out, he carries extras in his pockets and loves the intimacy of replacing the lost backing for you.

- He would definitely deny it though if you asked

- You’ve started to let him pick out your earrings for the night, and now it’s part of your little “getting ready” ritual

- He surprisingly has good sense of style when it comes to this! He can just be a little picky with them either matching your outfit or matching his aesthetic

- If you have multiple ear piercings I could see him insisting that you wear at least one earring that resembles his own

- Though you feel it’s just a small nod to your connection to him, it sends a BIG message to the other gangs on the boardwalk that you are protected and not to be messed with

- His S/O won’t admit it, but they secretly enjoy the thrill of knowing that they have scary boyfriend privileges while on the boardwalk

[yinyuedijun]

HI CARROT (may I call you carrot?), thank you so much for the very kind feedback on this fic 🥺💗 I am so very glad that we exist in the same timeline where you decided to give this very silly piece a chance!!!

thank you for taking the time to write out your thoughts in such detail!!!! I can't help but respond to some of your observations, in particular the comments around hypersexuality and sex work. hypersexuality is a topic that is heavily nuanced imo. though it can of course be an uncomplicated behaviour for a lot of people (and it is usually depicted as such in fanfic - which imo is totally fine!), It is irl also a behaviour that is often coupled with self-esteem and safety issues irl and can actually be a pretty severe trauma response. I was trying to get at those aspects of hypersexuality within this narrative and I'm very glad that your interpretation of this fic kinda matches that!

SIMILARLY I do think sex work is equally complicated. despite the glamorous representations in fiction (and sometimes reality), I absolutely agree that it is often just a means to an end. BUT I still wrote this with the knowledge that the industry is often entangled with trafficking and exploitation and psychological stress. I wanted the reader to basically be somewhere in the middle of all that context - she has been exploited but she is also a hustler within her own right nowadays (as much as suo allows her to be lol) and I'm very happy that at least some of my efforts were apparent here. I'm especially glad to hear that you felt it was thoughtful representation even from your pov as someone who's researched and worked a lot in the field!!!! I've never studied any of this formally (I'm just going off informal research and limited personal experience) so I super appreciate your feedback!

ALSO. your point about the asian parenting floored me because I didn't write this couple with that dynamic in mind, BUT I too am asian and was raised with pretty traditionally minded parents. i totally agree with the parallels you are drawing here and can't help but wonder if that was some of my personal experience and ideas of love coming thru in the fic lol... thematically it also makes sense because suo and mc had tenuous parental figures (they lost the best one they had) and really did have to start parenting each other after their master's death. so even if it was not a conscious decision to write tiger parenting... I do think you are speaking facts here LOLOL

If I could, I'd respond to all your other super thoughtful observations (THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THEM ), but I fear I will bore you with all the yapping. so I will just reiterate that I endlessly appreciate your comments and can't thank you enough for them. I will definitely be returning to them on rainy days when I feel like quitting writing haha. thank you for being so encouraging!!!

SENDING U LOVE !!!!!

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

[novvabee]

Poly!jegulily bedroom thoughts

MDNI

this is mostly so I can just get the power dynamic straight in some upcoming fics but enjoy!

Ok so in my head, the power dynamic goes a little something like this; Lily being the most dominant, then Regulus, then you and James on the same level except we all know James is on the bottom. Let me explain…

Lily is a dominant leaning switch, often taking the lead or initiating something more than anyone else. I feel like she is very stubborn and this trait would 100% fall into the bedroom as well. She is more often dominant than not, but just like everyone, she likes being taken care of too, sometimes letting someone else take the full lead. She likes being in charge and bossy in bed and loves when everyone is listening to her. She loves pampering each of her partners, loving needy pathetic James. She loves making her lovers desperate, going above and beyond while staying within everyone’s respective limits. She's more of a soft dom, but strict. 

Now Regulus also likes being dominant like Lily, but will let her take the lead more. He definitely enjoys a little bit of the power struggle between him and Lily, bratting off to her when she is in control, the only one to give Lily a hard time when she is in charge. But when he is in charge, you best listen to him and do as he says, if you think Lily is bossy, Regulus can be mean. He is not afraid to throw his authority around in the bedroom, reminding everyone who they belong to. That being said, he is usually the one loving to dish out punishments. He loves watching his lovers squirm and whine for him. But after everything, he is so loving and doting, assuring his loves that he loves them and if he was giving out a punishment, that he wasn’t really mad and that they did so well for him.

Then I think you would come next. Even if you are more dominant, your will will not match up to the other two’s. Now they would definitely let you take the lead if you wanted, not afraid to sit back, but I feel like they would just be challenging you at every turn. Like with Lily, Regulus would want to push the dynamic and kind of not listen, trying to be bratty. And Lily would subconsciously try and take over for you, switching positions or trying to ‘add’ to the experience even though you didn’t tell her to. If you lean more dominant, you all team up on James and trust me, he is not complaining. Now, if you are more submissive, perfect. Then the two more dominant ones in the relationship both have someone to dominate; both you and James. If you're bratty, Regulus will deal with you and try to set you straight, if you're more of a goody two shoes Lily would reward your behavior. 

Now James… come on. He is just so babygirl and just happy to be there lol. He is definitely just there to please you all, that is why I have him at the bottom of the totem pole. He has no authoritative or mean bone in his body when it comes to the bedroom, and the second one of you tells him to do something, he is putty. I do feel like he needs the most attention, whining when there is none on him for a moment. Cums when eating you or Lily out who said that!! He doesn’t really get punished because like I said, he does everything he is told and happily, and doesn't care for a power struggle. Just because James is submissive does not mean he doesn’t go hard though, he has a lot of pent up energy and is perfectly content to let the three of you share in it.

[fear-less]

Don't really have a solid request but how about the ball lol literally no request just more like a prompt lol

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚  tangled up with you all night

pairing: fred weasley x f!reader

➥ In which, you and fred go to the yule ball and end the night with a bang (almost literally) 

warnings: fluff, it gets smutty but they don't do it, establish relationship, pretend the opposite gender can go into the dorms for this…, pet names, lots of snogging…., bad writing near the end..!

a/n: i was planning on writing smut but gave up bc i lowkey can't write smut for the life of me, that's why i have like 3 posts containing smut i fear.. lowkey gave up at the end, so another cliffhanger?????? sorry in advanced if there's any errors..

3.8k words

The Great Hall shimmered with the glow of a thousand enchanted candles as students milled about in their finest dress robes, their laughter and chatter mixing with the soft hum of magical music. The Yule Ball had transformed Hogwarts into a winter wonderland, and the air was alive with excitement.

You stood at the edge of the hall, smoothing down the fabric of your dress and glancing around nervously. Even though you’d been dating Fred Weasley for a few months now, the butterflies in your stomach still hadn’t gotten the memo. He had promised to meet you here, but you couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious as you waited.

“Looking for someone, love?” came a familiar voice from behind you. You turned to see Fred, his signature grin lighting up his face. He was wearing deep maroon dress robes that should have looked ridiculous but somehow suited him perfectly. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he held out a hand to you.

“You clean up nicely,” you teased, taking his hand.

“And you look absolutely stunning,” he said, his voice softer as he pulled you closer. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards the dance floor.

You nodded, letting him lead you into the throng of students. The music shifted to a lively waltz, and Fred spun you effortlessly, his hand firm on your waist. You couldn’t help but laugh as he exaggerated his movements, drawing amused glances from your classmates.

“Fred, you’re going to make me trip,” you protested, though you were grinning.

“Nonsense,” he said, twirling you again. “If you fall, I’ll catch you. That’s what dashing boyfriends are for, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. Despite his joking demeanor, Fred’s grip was steady, his movements confident. He had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room.

As the song ended, Fred dipped you dramatically, earning a smattering of applause from a group of Gryffindors nearby. You laughed as he pulled you upright, his cheeks slightly flushed but his grin unwavering.

“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head.

“And yet you love me for it,” he quipped, leaning in to brush a kiss against your temple.

The night passed in a blur of laughter and dancing. Fred kept you on your toes, whether by sneaking snacks from the refreshment table or convincing you to join him in an impromptu snowball fight in the courtyard. He was a whirlwind of energy, but he always made sure to keep you close, his hand never straying far from yours.

After a particularly lively polka that left you both breathless and laughing, Fred led you off the dance floor. "Time for a break?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely,” you replied, fanning yourself with your hand. “I think my feet are going to protest if we keep going.”

“Feet or no feet, you’re a brilliant dancer,” he said, grabbing two glasses of pumpkin juice from a passing tray. He handed you one, his fingers brushing against yours. “You’ve got to teach me your secret.”

“Secret?” you asked, taking a sip of the cool drink. “You’re the one who’s been leading.”

“Ah, but you’re the one who makes it look good,” he said with a wink.

The two of you wandered to the edge of the hall, finding a quieter corner to sit and watch the other students. Fred pointed out some of the more amusing pairs on the dance floor, his commentary making you laugh until your sides ached.

“Okay, but look at Neville,” Fred said, nudging you gently. Neville Longbottom was valiantly attempting to dance with Ginny, who was clearly trying to guide him through the steps. “Bless him, he’s got the enthusiasm. Not so sure about the rhythm, though.”

“He’s doing his best,” you said, though you couldn’t hide your smile.

“And that’s all that matters,” Fred agreed. He leaned closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “As long as you’re having fun, nothing else really matters, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” you said softly, turning to look at him. The warmth in his gaze made your heart skip a beat.

As the evening wore on, Fred’s antics continued to delight you. At one point, he conjured a handful of enchanted mistletoe and tried to sneak it above the heads of unsuspecting couples. When Professor McGonagall caught him, she gave him a stern look that only made him laugh harder.

“You’re incorrigible,” you said, shaking your head as he returned to your side, still chuckling.

“And you’re still here, so what does that say about you?” he teased, slipping his arm around your waist.

The two of you eventually found yourselves on a quiet balcony overlooking the snow-covered grounds. The music and laughter from the Great Hall were a faint hum in the background. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, catching in Fred’s hair and on the shoulders of his robes.

Fred draped his cloak over your shoulders, his arm curling around your waist. “Having fun?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“The best,” you said, leaning into him. “Thank you for tonight, Fred.”

He tilted his head to look at you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I’d do anything to see you smile like that,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Your breath hitched at the tenderness in his gaze. Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was warm and sweet and everything you’d ever dreamed of.

When he pulled back, his grin was back in place. “So, I think I’ve earned the title of Best Boyfriend yet?”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You’ve more than earned it, Fred Weasley.”

He beamed, pulling you closer as snow began to fall softly around you. In that moment, with Fred by your side and the world fading away, everything felt perfect. The two of you stayed there for a while, talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing. Fred shared a few outrageous stories about the twins' latest prank ideas, and you told him about your hopes and dreams for the future. It was a moment suspended in time, just the two of you against the backdrop of the magical evening.

As you sat there, the distant sounds of the ball began to fade. Fred glanced up at the stars, his hand still holding yours. "You know," he said, "nights like this don't come often. But with you, every day feels like it could be just as magical."

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "You always know the right thing to say, don't you?"

"It's a talent," he said with a mock-serious tone, earning a laugh from you. "But really, I mean it. You're… well, you're brilliant. And not just for putting up with me."

"Putting up with you is the easy part," you teased. "It's keeping up with you that's the challenge."

He chuckled, pulling you closer. "Lucky for me, you're the only one who can."

As the night drew to a close, Fred walked you through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, the sounds of the ball fading behind you. The soft crunch of snow underfoot was the only noise, adding to the serene feeling of the moment. Fred's hand never left yours, his touch warm and comforting against the cool night air.

"You know," Fred murmured, his voice low, as he glanced at you, "I’m really glad we had tonight. It was perfect."

You smiled, squeezing his hand, the warmth of his fingers against yours making your heart beat faster. "It really was."

As you neared the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Fred stopped suddenly, his body turning toward you, and his eyes locked onto yours with a kind of heat that made your breath hitch. There was something in his gaze tonight—something different, something deeper.

"Stay safe, yeah?" he asked, his voice low and rough, like he was holding back. "I’d hate to think of anything happening to you after a night like this."

You teased, your voice softer than usual, a slight breathlessness in your words. "You worry too much."

"I don’t think I can help it when it comes to you," he said, his hand rising to brush the side of your face. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, a slow, deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt the air between you thickening, charged with an undeniable tension. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at each other, unable to look away. The heat between you two was palpable now, the kind of closeness that made everything else fade into the background.

"I’ll be fine, Fred," you whispered, but your voice faltered, and the words felt hollow against the current that was pulling you closer to him. "But I’d rather you stay."

Fred didn't speak right away. Instead, his thumb traced your lower lip, sending a surge of warmth through you. His eyes flickered down to your lips before locking onto your gaze again, the air between you thickening with unspoken desire.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a soft rasp.

You could feel his hand on your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, and before you could respond, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow at first, testing, gentle. But as your bodies moved closer, the kiss deepened, and you felt the heat between you intensifying.

Fred gently guided you back, his hands resting on your waist as he led you toward the nearby bed. The back of your knees hit the edge, and in one swift but tender motion, Fred pushed you softly onto the mattress, hovering above you. His lips never left yours, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the closeness making your heart race.

The kiss was a beautiful mix of passion and tenderness, each moment heightening the connection between you two. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his expression serious now but filled with affection.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “So are you.”

There was a pause, the two of you just looking at each other, your breath coming a little faster. You felt his thumb trace the curve of your jaw, the simple touch sending shivers down your spine.

“You make me feel… different, in the best way,” Fred said, his voice hushed, full of sincerity.

You didn't respond at first, still lost in the lingering sensation of the kiss you two had just shared. The taste of him was still fresh on your lips, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and warmth. The way his lips had pressed against yours, so gentle at first, then deepening with a hunger that had made your whole body respond—it was as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

"Are you still there?" Fred's voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, his tone teasing, but there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart flutter.

You blinked, finally bringing yourself back to the present. Looking into his eyes, you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. His smirk grew, and before you could catch your breath, he leaned in again, this time with more intent. His lips met yours in a kiss that was far more urgent than the first. It wasn’t just a kiss now—it was as though he couldn’t get enough of you, his hands moving to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

The world seemed to slip away again, the only sound in your ears, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the pounding of your hearts. You could feel the warmth of Fred’s body against yours, the heat of him pressing you back into the softness of the bed beneath you. His hands slid down your arms, tracing your skin with a light touch that made you shiver. You responded instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, if that was even possible.

His kiss became more demanding now, his lips moving with a passion that matched the storm swirling inside you. You could feel his pulse in sync with yours, the chemistry between you undeniable. Every touch, every movement, seemed to carry a deeper weight, a silent promise of something more. But you weren’t rushing. Neither of you were. This moment, this connection, was something worth savoring.

Fred’s hand moved slowly down your side, and for a moment, you froze—unsure whether you were ready to take this step, but then, he paused, his forehead resting against yours, and you could feel him searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. The tenderness in his voice made your heart swell, and you found yourself nodding. There was no rush, no pressure, just the two of you, letting the moment unfold at its own pace.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but the certainty in your words made his eyes soften.

With a soft smile, Fred leaned in again, his kiss gentle, yet full of everything unspoken. His hands cupped your face again, holding you tenderly as though you were something precious, something he never wanted to lose. You melted into him, your body responding as if it had always known where it belonged—right here, in his arms.

As the kiss deepened again, your world spun in a dizzying, blissful swirl of emotions. You could feel his heart thundering in his chest, and yours followed in perfect time. His hands roamed, slow and deliberate, and with each touch, each whisper of his lips against yours, you felt the bond between you growing stronger.

And then, as you pulled back slightly, both of you breathing heavily, you rested your forehead against his, the world outside seeming to disappear entirely.

"I never want this night to end," Fred murmured, his voice rough and full of emotion.

"Me neither," you replied, your voice steady but filled with the depth of feeling that you could no longer keep hidden.

Still deep in the kiss, the two of you lost track of time. Your pulse raced, each touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. But then, reluctantly, Fred pulled away, his lips lingering just above yours for a moment longer before he slowly opened his eyes.

You sighed, a soft whine escaping your lips at the sudden emptiness that followed his kiss. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of tenderness and concern. There was something in his eyes, a silent question, as if asking if you were okay. You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest, and he seemed to understand, his lips curling into a small, reassuring smile.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice quiet but steady, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You nodded again, your hands finding his and squeezing gently. "I'm sure."

Fred's smile deepened, and with a slow but deliberate motion, he moved to carefully unzip the back of your dress, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but there was no hurry in his movements. He took his time, his gaze focused on you, as if savoring the moment.

The dress fell away, leaving you in your undergarments. Fred’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his breath catching slightly. He didn’t say anything at first, just letting the silence stretch between you two. His fingers hovered over the hem of his own robes, and you noticed the teasing glint in his eyes as he took a step back.

"Patience, love," Fred said with a playful smirk, his voice low and full of warmth. "You’ll have all the time in the world."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your heart beating faster as his words hung in the air. It wasn’t frustration, though, not really. It was anticipation—everything felt heightened, the connection between you two growing deeper with every passing second.

"You're impossible," you teased softly, but there was no real annoyance in your tone. You only wanted more of him, more of this moment, but you could feel the power in his calmness. The way he moved, how he made you feel—like everything was on his terms, yet somehow he always made you feel cherished.

"I know," Fred said with a grin, stepping closer again, his fingers brushing against your arm as he gently guided you to sit back on the bed. "But you’re the one who keeps me on my toes, aren’t you?"

Your lips met again, this time slower, more deliberate. The kiss was still filled with that same heat, but there was a tenderness in it that made your heart swell. Fred’s hand cupped your face, his thumb gently tracing your jawline as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. You could feel the strength of his arms, the way he held you, not to control you, but to keep you safe within his embrace.

Everything around you seemed to fade into the background as you melted into him, your fingers tracing the fabric of his robes as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. The night had become more than just a kiss—it was an unspoken promise, a bond growing stronger with every shared moment.

When the kiss finally broke, your foreheads rested against one another, both of you catching your breath. The air between you felt heavy with meaning, the unspoken emotions and desires lingering like an invisible thread tethering you together. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was everything that had been building between you two, a connection that ran deeper than words.

"Don’t worry," Fred whispered, his breath warm and steady against your skin. His voice was softer than usual, carrying a gentleness that sent a wave of reassurance through you. "I’m not going anywhere."

You smiled faintly, trying to inject some levity into the intensity of the moment. "I know that—you’d never leave dear ol’ me," you quipped, your voice light but your heart pounding.

Fred’s lips curled into a smirk, his signature confidence still shining through. "I wouldn’t dream of it," he replied, his tone playful yet undeniably sincere.

He leaned in again, this time his hands moving with deliberate care. His fingers brushed along your shoulders, trailing down to the clasp of your bra. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours, silently seeking permission. You gave him the smallest of nods, your chest tightening with anticipation. With practiced care, he undid the clasp and let the fabric fall away.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. His gaze dipped for a moment, his eyes tracing over you with an awe that made your cheeks flush. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was the way he made you feel seen, as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him at that moment.

Fred straightened slightly, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. His pace quickened as he undressed himself, his usual teasing nature giving way to an eagerness that matched your own. You watched him, your eyes trailing over every movement, but your mind was already racing ahead, anticipation building with every second.

Soon, the both of you were left in little more than the bare minimum. Fred stood before you in his boxers, and you in your panties, the weight of the moment pressing between you. His gaze returned to yours, filled with a mix of excitement and something deeper—concern, perhaps, or maybe reverence.

"You’re sure about this, sweetie?" His voice was steady, though you could hear the faintest tremor of excitement beneath it. His words carried more than just a question; they carried a promise to stop at any moment, to ensure this was what you truly wanted.

"Fred," you replied softly, your voice unwavering despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I’ve never been so sure in my life."

At your words, his expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright then," he said quietly, leaning in to press his lips to yours again. This kiss was different—slower, deeper, carrying with it an unspoken understanding. His hands roamed your body, each touch deliberate and reverent, while your fingers found their way to his face, cupping his cheeks as though to ground yourself in the moment.

He pulled back for a breath, his hands trailing lower, brushing the edge of your underwear. Fred’s gaze met yours again, his eyes searching, asking the question one last time without words. Are you sure?

You nodded, this time more confidently, your heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. Fred’s lips twitched into a small smile as his fingers hooked into the waistband, carefully sliding the fabric down. The movement was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to give you every chance to change your mind. But you didn’t—you couldn’t. You wanted this, wanted him.

As he discarded the final barrier between you, Fred paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you. His expression was one of quiet reverence, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were real. He quickly rid himself of his own boxers, and for a moment, the two of you stood there, bare and vulnerable in every sense of the word.

Fred stepped closer, his hands finding your waist and pulling you gently toward him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, but it was his eyes—the way they held yours with such intensity—that made your breath catch.

"This," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, "this isn’t just tonight. You know that, right?"

"I know," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "I trust you."

And with that, Fred’s hands caressed your waist, his thumbs tracing soft, reassuring circles against your skin. The warmth of his touch contrasted with the cool air, making you shiver despite the heat radiating between you. 

[apollo-just-ice]

10 people I’d like to get to know better

Tagged by @strix-x thank youuu :)

Last song: Calisto Yew’s theme from Ace Attorney Investigations 1. Listening to it as I type this, lol. From my Spotify Wrapped 2024 playlist :)

Favourite colour: don’t do this to me… many colours are beautiful… green, blue, pink, purple… thank you…

Last book: Still something I’ve gotta work on is reading more books. Last one I read was the Doctor Who Rogue novelization! That was enjoyable, I liked the extra scenes and backstory it added :)

Last movie: Uhhh hmm I don’t see movies all that often… I’m unsure, but by tomorrow the answer will be Wicked?

Last show: Dandadan season 1 finale… which, tbh, I hadn’t realized was the season finale until after I watched the episode lol! Very looking forward to season 2 tho :D

Sweet/spicy/savoury: Hmm probably savoury? Sweet is also good, tho I think there is definitely a thing as too sweet… and as for spicy? I like some spicy stuff even tho it may burn my mouth after loll

Relationship status: single as can be 😽✌️ alas

Last thing I googled: movie theatre tickets lol

Current obsession(s): Dandadan beloved omg… I haven’t watched a lot of anime, but I’m starting to! Grateful netflix recommended this to me lol, it’s so. It’s got everything you could ask for. Wacky, funny, has a lot of heart with the characters… great music… and maybe I’m a little bit of a sucker for high school students getting pulled into crazy adventures. Momo and Okarun are so cute too… sillies <3

Fire Emblem Heroes isn’t going anywhere for me… with Book 9 having a law theme, it excellently combines with my love for Ace Attorney, and I love Rune already!!

Then ofc Ace Attorney… had a blast playing the Investigations Collection, and I’m continuing to catch up (the timing is almost never right for me to watch live) on Mark Ota’s streams of TGAAC, which are always a ton of fun :D

Then I am also trying to now and then write stuff for my own ocs too… I don’t talk about them enough… but I love them very much, please do know <3 Maybe I show a bit of favouritism for Willow and Pyg, but hey, they are the main characters :3

People to tag: ack my least favourite part, I always fear I’ll forget someone!

@rosymaraschino (I want to return the favour, I appreciate it whenever you tag me in one of these kinds of things! :) )

@ actually anyone else, my mind is blank </3

[devildomwriter]

You Go To See A Christmas Carol Part II

Not even in the theatre yet and things are already going wrong among the brothers and a joke by MC quickly and legally escalates.

You watched Lucifer drag Mammon to the parking lot across the street and knew you’d been right that Mammon had messed something up. Someone else was watching this happen from the balcony and decided to assist.

MC: “Barbatos? Why aren’t you with Diavolo?”

Barbatos: “I spotted a certain troublemaker and thought I’d help.”

MC: “Mammon?”

Barbatos: “You are most correct.”

Leviathan: “Wait, don’t leave me, I’m getting this on video!”

MC: “Levi you should probably stay here…”

Leviathan: “This is gonna get so many views on DevilTube. Lol.”

Lucifer: “What were you thinking you idiot?”

Mammon: “I forgot!”

Lucifer: “You forgot about thirteen different weapons?”

Mammon: “No! I forgot about seventeen!”

Lucifer: “Where the hell are the other four!?”

Barbatos: “Shall I help you look for them?”

Lucifer: “Good, Barbatos, you’re here. Please extend my apologies to Lord Diavolo.”

Barbatos: “That won’t be necessary he’s been watching from the balcony, I haven’t seen him so entertained in a long time.”

Mammon: “What the hell?!”

Barbatos: “Silence. Why don’t we find those four other weapons you mentioned?”

Mammon: “I was wrong, it was definitely thirteen!”

Lucifer: “Is that what the metal scanners and pat down will say?”

Mammon: “…”

Barbatos: “You thought it wise to lie to us?”

Mammon: “Someone save me!”

You looked up from your phone after hearing a bit of noise when you remembered that Mammon getting beaten up by Lucifer was not a common practice in the Human world.

MC: “Well…shit.”

Leviathan: “Looks like a crowd is forming.”

MC: “Yep, this is gonna escalate fast…”

Asmodeus: “I got the popcorn— AHHHH!”

Asmodeus: “Beelzebub you gave me a heart attack!”

Beelzebub: “Mmmmm.”

Belphegor: “Is that what human world cop cars look like?”

MC: “Yep. Wow. Three of them.”

Leviathan: “Huh? They just walked away!?”

Asmodeus: “Well that’s boring.”

Diavolo: “Of course they did.”

MC: “Dia!”

Diavolo: “MC! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Belphegor: “So…do the cops just not care?”

MC: “That’s definitely how it’s gonna get reported after seeing that.”

Diavolo: “Barbatos just used a bit of hypnosis that’s all. Oh, MC, I think someone is looking for you?”

You looked to see the officer you’d joked with earlier coming up to you, looking sincerely concerned, and you realized you may have made a mistake.

Security Officer: “Excuse me, I’d like you to have this.”

MC: “Oh, why thank you, Sir…”

Asmodeus: “What? What did he give you, his number?”

MC: “Some sort of phone number.”

Leviathan: “The fights over now so I’ll just look it up.”

Leviathan: “Uh…it’s the helpline for victims of….traffic accidents?”

MC: “Huh? No way it says that.”

MC: “………..I think I messed up…”

Belphegor: “Are you okay MC?”

MC: “No. I was making a joke, just telling him how I met you and I think maybe he thought I was serious…”

Diavolo: “How we met? You mean summoning you?”

MC: “Summoning…kidnapping…same thing.”

Diavolo: “Ahahahaha!”

Leviathan: “Are you sure you should be laughing…”

Beelzebub: “I’m out of popcorn.”

Asmodeus: “Ugh already! That was so expensive.”

Leviathan: “Satan, you came back. What are you drinking?”

Satan: “Some kind of tonic?”

Diavolo: “Hide it, quickly!”

Satan: “Hm? What?”

Diavolo: “I’d rather Lucifer not know there are bars here, especially given how things are going already.”

MC: “That sounds like a fun time, at least he’ll be smiling.”

Diavolo: “I don’t like his scary smile.”

MC: “I think it’s hilarious.”

Asmodeus: “Only cause you’ve never had to deal with the aftermath of one of those!”

MC: “He tried to murder me like three times.”

Leviathan: “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”

Satan: “To be fair he wasn’t smiling.”

Asmodeus: “See!”

MC: “I’m going to sit down somewhere, tell me if anything catches fire.”

Satan: “Why would it?”

MC: “At this point why not?”

Mammon was back in line dragged past a crowd of worried and angry people and set right in front of the guard who was very anxious to have these people back in his normally calm line.

Mammon: “…”

Guard: “N-name…”

Mammon: “Mam— OW! Matthew…fucking ugly ass stupid bastard name…”

Guard: “…”

Guard: “You may proceed…”

Lucifer: “I apologize for my brother’s antics. Here’s a tip for your troubles.”

Guard: “R-right…”

Lucifer: “I’ll leave a good word with your managers. I never did get your name?”

Guard: “My name is…Matthew.”

Lucifer: “…”

Mammon: “…Shit, my bad man…”

Lucifer: “Stop talking.”

Mammon: “Fine.”

Guard: “…have a good show.”

Everyone was finally together outside the main entrance.

Diavolo: “Lucifer, so glad you could join us.”

Lucifer: “I apologize for our late arrival.”

Diavolo: “No need to apologize, I’m just glad we’re all here before the show begins.”

Lucifer: “I need a drink.”

Satan: “There’s plenty of Demonus waiting at home. This is a proper theatre, alcohol isn’t allowed.”

Lucifer: “I’m aware.”

Diavolo: *winks at Satan*

Satan: *nodding*

Barbatos: “Young Master why don’t we go find our seats.”

Diavolo: “Yes, let’s. We’ll have a chance to sit and talk before the show that way.”

Lucifer: “Right. Come along, everyone. Where’s Beelzebub…”

MC: “Popcorn machine.”

Lucifer: *sigh* “MC please keep an eye on him.”

MC: “That’s the plan. Diavolo save me a seat.”

Diavolo: “Next to me?”

MC: “Please.”

Diavolo: “Haha! Certainly.”

Leviathan: “Stupid normies…”

MC: “What was that?”

Leviathan: “Nothing!”

Belphegor: “I’ll stay with MC.”

Satan: “Okay. Levi lets go. There are pretzels upstairs.”

Leviathan: “I’m not a kid!”

Satan: “Fine. I rescind my offer.”

Leviathan: “Wait, I didn’t mean that!”

You sighed and leaned into Belphegor as you stood there watching Asmodeus talk his way into more bags of popcorn than he was paying for as Beelzebub wolfed them down just as quickly, scaring some children in line.

Luke: “MC!”

Belphegor: “Huh?”

Luke: “It is you! I knew it!”

MC: “Luke!? What are you doing here?”

Solomon: “We heard Diavolo invited you and the brothers to a human world play so I thought we’d come along.”

MC: “You invited yourselves?”

Solomon: “Sort of?”

Simeon: “We wanted it to be a surprise. Solomon got the same box too.”

Belphegor: “As long as Luke doesn’t kick the back of my seat it’s fine.”

Luke: “Keep talking like that and I might. Hmph!”

Simeon: “Now, now Luke. Oh my…that’s a lot of police officers did something happen?”

MC: “Oh dear…Belphie go get Asmo and Beel, we’re going upstairs now.”

Solomon: “Did something happen?”

MC: “Sort of. You should probably not be seen with us right now, why don’t you go surprise the others upstairs.”

Simeon: “…Right…that seems most advisable.”

Solomon: “Let us know if you need anything.”

MC: “Bail money possibly.”

Solomon: “Haha! You’re so funny MC.”

MC: “I wasn’t joking.”

Beelzebub: “I want more—“

Asmodeus: “No time for that hon, let’s get to the elevator.”

Belphegor: “Why are the lights flashing?”

MC: “It means the play is starting soon. We have to hurry. Just don’t run we’ll be more suspicious that way.”

Asmodeus: “Well, none of us beat Mammon up so we should be fine?”

Beelzebub: “It’s the guard…he looks kinda upset?”

MC: “Pardon?”

Guard: “That’s them.”

Cop A: “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

MC: *whispering* “This is America you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

Asmodeus: “Okie dokie.”

MC: *sigh*

Cop A: “This guard here tells me you know who we’re looking for?”

MC: *panicking* “What guard?”

Cop A: “…”

Cop B: “…”

Asmodeus: “…”

Beelzebub: “…”

Belphegor: “Good one, MC.”

Guard: “Those four were with the others. I don’t know where the green one came from.”

Beelzebub: “The green one?”

Asmodeus: “He means Barbatos.”

Cop B: “So you do know him?”

Asmodeus: “Oopsie.”

Belphegor: “Don’t “Oopsie” me. Stop talking.”

Asmodeus: “But my voice is so pretty that’d be a crime.”

Beelzebub: “I’m getting more popcorn.”

Cop A: “Please stay here, sir.”

Beelzebub: “But I want popcorn.”

MC: “Officer I’ll answer all your questions, that man is…uh…special…he really just wants popcorn. He’s harmless.”

Belphegor: “Did you just airquote special?”

MC: “Please stop talking Belphie.”

Asmodeus: “Ooh, Lucifer’s calling me, I should take this!”

Cop B: “Lucifer?”

Guard: “That’s what they were callin’ the black-haired one who was beating the other Matthew.”

MC: “Other Matthew?”

Guard: “My name is Matthew.”

MC: “…Did my friend say anything—“

Guard: “Yes.”

MC: “I am so sorry, Matthew is a lovely name.”

Cop A: “I’m going to need to ask you all a few questions. First of all, do you know where the victim is?”

MC: “…no.”

Cop B: “Are you sure about that?”

Security Officer: “Mam, I have something to report as well.”

Cop A: “Right, is it related to the case?”

Security Officer: “To the person there yes.”

MC: “To me?”

Belphegor: “We kidnapped you remember.”

MC: “No that was Diavolo.”

Cop A: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt but do you have the piece of paper this man gave you?”

MC: “Oh uh…no, actually, Levi took it.”

Cop B: “And Levi is?”

MC: “The purple-haired man…”

Guard: “The convent one?”

Belphegor: “Levi’s gonna love to know that’s how he’s being remembered.”

MC: “Yes, but—“

Cop A: “Why don’t we talk somewhere a bit more private, Officer McGuire can talk with your associates.”

MC: “Oh I’m fine, really.”

Cop A: “Are you being held against your will in any way?”

MC: “Aren’t we all?”

Belphegor: “That’s the wrong answer MC.”

Cop B: “That’s enough out of you.”

Belphegor: “I’m not the one that kidnapped them that was the rich guy upstairs.”

Cop B: “Are you admitting to knowing about human trafficking ploy?”

Belphegor: “Umm.”

MC: “Wait, it’s fine—“

Cop A: “Honey, I’ve met a lot of victims of abduction, you may feel that way now but I assure you it’s not okay what was done to you.”

MC: “I wasn’t kidnapped I was summoned.”

Cop A: “Excuse me? Like in court?”

MC: “Okay this has gone too far… Asmo. Remember how I said not to charm people…”

Asmodeus: “Ooh! Can I!”

MC: “Make this go away please.”

Asmodeus: “My pleasure! Hey Mr Cop, Misses Cop! Let’s go have some fun somewhere! This case isn’t that big a deal, got it!? Also, this is totally unrelated to any traffic accidents just a bit of an exchange program thing, k?”

Cop A: “Sounds good to me.”

Cop B: “Right it’s not that big a deal.”

Guard: “What are you two talking about? What just happened.”

Security Officer: “I don’t understand…”

MC: “Yeah…I don’t know how to erase memories so I’m sorry you’re both stuck with all this but if it’s any consolation I can tell you the truth.”

Guard: “Yes! What is happening here?”

MC: “My name is MC and I am the master of the seven rulers of the underworld, you’ve had the pleasure of meeting each of the seven deadly sins. Have a good evening.”

With that, you entered the elevator and Beelzebub quickly hit the close door button as the two men looked at each other bewildered.

Previous • Next

[constantlybrainrotting]

i lied, put your clothes back on. i'm going to keep talking about the dance studio au (side note, currently writing this as i am at the studio i teach at lmao)

on today's episode of brainrot, i tell you about the different specialties of the characters i chose to teach and why i chose them, as well as some random facts about them as teachers!

Silco Lane-Shimmerson (ZDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Ballet/Pointe | Contemp

Silco mainly teaches ballet, pointe and contemp to both the full time comp kids and the part-time comp kids. I chose ballet/pointe for him because he is seen in canon as an overall precise and focused person, with little room for error, which are qualities usually seen within those styles. While he loves a good classic ballet routine, i think his specialties would lie within contemporary ballet, a style i see as more Zaun fitting. he would've learned the vaganova method growing up, a method known to use and value flexibility, strength and endurance, a method i believe that holds values that are pretty in line to Zaun in the show. due to his proficiency in contemporary ballet, i think it would bleed into him really enjoying contemporary/modern as a style. he would definitely be a harder and tougher teacher overall but the kids, especially the younger ones, love his upfront personality and makes him one of the more favoured teachers at the studio. He makes a lot of the kids enjoy ballet despite it being not well liked for many kids which is a FEAT. Silco is known for his intense choreography and it pays off since they are usually winning pieces (in contemp because anyone who judges a ballet dance judges so dumb no matter which way you go). He grew up with Vander at a small local studio and ended up joining and teaching at the Greater Piltover Ballet Company (GPBC) for a couple years before opening up a studio.

Vander Lane (ZDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Lyrical | Acro | Open

Vander doesn't actually teach all that much in comparison to many of the teachers since he also runs a cafe part time that is attached to the studio but is an overall favourite among the full-time competitive dancers. I chose for him to teach lyrical, acro and open because acro and open can be very powerful movement wise, which we see in Vander in the riots on the bridge and makes a lot of sense in that front, i decided to however also have him teach lyrical to bring out his softer side, which we see in the show when interacting with the kids. He teaches lyrical and acro to all of them but teaches open to the senior and inter teams. he's the type of teacher that brings in goodie bags for each holiday season and will tell the most insane stories during class time at random of him, Silco and Benzo over the years (ex. "fun story about spotting, when I was in the Piltover Ballet with Silco we learned from this woman who used to throw chalkboard erasers at us if we didn't spot our turns lol" "WDYM CHALKBOARD ERASERS???" "anyways back to your turns-"). He creates the most visually moving pieces ever and you wouldn't expect such softness and fluidity from that large of a man but by god does he do it well. oh and his acro routines?? SO visually stunning. this man has an eye for creating the most stunning pieces in all of his routines and they are consistently getting special awards for artistry at competitions. He also joined the GPBC for a brief stint with Silco before going to open up a small cafe on which Zaun Dance Movement was built upon.

Sevika Vann (ZDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Hip Hop | Acro | Open

Sevika is the one woman army of ZDM and Silco's right hand woman. She's the one picking out costumes (only Babette is aloud to help she does not trust those men), unpacking costumes, bedazzling, the whole works (dw she is compensated GOOD). I have her specialty as hip hop because she is a notably strong fighter and with the way she moves when fighting, she moves fluidly and sharp which are common notables in hip hop. She teaches the whole slew of comp kids hip hop and does tech classes with them. Her hip hop style is heavily mixed with Zaun break dance/street dance and allowed for the studio to become known for their unique style. She also teaches the part time kids acro since Vander is busy with the cafe and does some of the open small groups for the full comp kids. Her general stylization with her dances is heavy hitting and focuses on strength. She is a tough teacher but she does have her moments of roasting the shit out of her students to their delight. she loves a good banter and to be able to do that with her students will always be meaningful to her. She actually met Silco and Vander during a convention before they opened the studio, with her attending both their classes (Vander jazz and Silco contemp) and they took notice of her technique. Silco asked her to join the team the year they opened and with nothing else lined up for her at the time she agreed.

Babette Furlan (ZDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Jazz | Musical Theatre

I couldn't resist not putting Babette in this au she would be a riot omg. Babette teaches jazz and musical theatre because this woman would THRIVE in it. she owns a brothel in the show okay she would just love the theatrics of the two styles and would definitely go towards a more fosse style of jazz. she's been around a hot minute so she's very well known in the dance world and has won many awards for her choreo so it was down to pure luck that Silco ran into his old dance teacher whose home studio was closing and she was looking for a new studio to teach at. she creates choreo made to entertain the masses so it's very theatrical, loud and with the funnest costumes ever. she's also pretty well liked in classes and teaches all levels and ages.

Smeech Citrano (ZDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Tap

I LOVE ADDING THIS FUCKASS INTO RANDOM AU'S OKAY SO HEAR ME OUT!!! Smeech is the tap teacher because no.1 the way h moves in fights is great for tap and no.2 he has cybernetics in the show and metal meets metal shoes yknow!! this man is my favourite to figure out because he has beef with SO MANY of the kids, even the ones he has do solos/duos/trios and the only reason hes still employed is because hes the only good tap teacher in Zaun. the kids hate him but his routines place good so its a win-loose situation for them all honestly. his style of tap is steampunk ambience music with complex and/or fast steps with weird timings.

Cassandra Kiramman (PDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Jazz | Lyrical | Open

i have Cassandra teaching jazz, lyrical and open for a few different reasons. the jazz style appeals to her more intense side that we see when she busts in cait's room with a gun. she tends to lean towards the jazz-funk style more and her choreo is upbeat and fast moving. her lyrical becomes the opposite of that in fact and tunes into her softer side that we see when she talks to Caitlyn or Tobias. she uses traditional lyrical with it's softer and flowy lines of the body creating almost constant movement that draws in the audience. her style of open brings the two together which i think is important for her character. there tends to be sharper movements within but still allows for the flowiness to come through. her teaching methods can get intense at times but overall shes a good teacher and she's the kind to always have you do it full out with the music. she took over the studio after Heimerdinger's decision to step down and retire (for the most part lol) and has improved certain areas of the company since. before she had taken over, she was both a student and a teacher and had graduated from the GPBC's teaching program for lyrical and jazz. she's pretty hands on with her studio so she teaches both full time and part time competitive teams in her 3 preferred styles and is at the studio almost always. When she took over the studio, that's when a initial reach out to ZDM was made... she got one half in good faith at least!

Grayson Menea (PDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Hip Hop | Contemp | Acro

i couldn't NOT include miss Grayson so i have her in some of the more intense styles like hip hop, contemp and acro! she's got an overall pretty intense job in the show and i wanted to really bring that forward with the hip hop and acro, but show her somewhat softer side through with the contemp. her hip hop choreo is really sharp movements and lots of isolations, and her acro can be similar, with the placed movements and intensity. her contemp choreo is a lot more softer with the movements but still brings in that intensity through intentional and well placed moments of movement. she had actually grown up dancing at a smaller studio on the outskirts of New Piltover and close to Zaun so she learned hip hop very similarly to the Zaunite style of hip hop. she ended up doing a brief stint in the military and after a shot taken to her shoulder she was discharged. she decided not to return and was offered a job by then owner Heimerdinger to teach hip hop, since she was recommended by a mutual friend. she agreed and has thrived ever since. shes an overall pretty tough teacher when teaching but outside of that shes a wonderful person to be around and gives advice to the kids she teaches. she takes on more of the full time kids but does do some teaching with the older part-time kids.

Amara Saffioti (PDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Ballet/Pointe

Amara just looked like an older ballet teacher idk what you guys want from me, i went off pure vibes from her tbh. in any case, she is a true believer of classical ballet, plateau tutu's and all and is a no-nonsense but kind teacher. she uses the English (RAD - Royal Academy of Dance) method when teaching and she teaches the full scale of comp kids. she has a tendency to use music from different ballets and doesn't really branch out in that regard but her choreography is gorgeous. she also single-handedly puts on the nutcracker with her students every year and when Cassandra tries to help she shoos her out of the classroom. she was the first employee of the studio and she claims she will stay until she dies because she genuinely enjoys teaching so much.

Shoola Junot (PDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Tap | Musical Theatre

Shoola was also a very vibes based choice but i did think that a good musical theatre would help her be less cold in a way. for Shoola's tap style, it is a lot of quick tapping and lots of movement around the stage. she also has a habit of picking the shiniest of costumes for the kids which they love! i had a harder time finding a musical theatre style i liked for her but a classic simple musical theatre is where she is happy. her choreo still has those fast movements that she loves, just not as shiny costume wise and she loves to pick from older musicals. shes pretty well liked among staff and students but can seem quite cold due to her quiet demeanour outside the studio. she was originally a student at the studio and after graduating was asked to teach while she attended college to get her degree in engineering. she has another job outside the studio in a mechanical engineer position. she has also single-handedly upgraded the tap technique at the studio which is insane behaviour tbh.

Bonus! Cecil Heimerdinger (PDC)

STYLE INSPIRATION: Musical Theatre

thought fuck it, might as well add in the yordle! so Heimerdinger was actually a musical theatre geek and loved kooky theatre music so much he opened a studio mainly for that. he quickly learned he needed more variations of dance styles so in came Amara! tbh he had no clue wtf he was doing but they got an increasing number of wins with their routines so he said fuck it we ball ig. when he decided to give up the studio, he asked Cassandra and thankfully she said yes! while yes he was retired, he knew he needed SOMETHING to do so he took over managing the front desk (his multiple degrees came in handy) and does guest choreo work for Cassandra in his favourite style... musical theatre!

[mer-acle]

I have been rotating Athena and Hephaestus in the brain thanks to an age regression fic I’m writing

But like wow they are veeery similar! Now I know Zeus didn’t technically birth Athena, he swallowed a pregnant Metis, however both thena and heph were born from (sorta) one parent (if you go the revenge baby route with Hephaestus which I know in most cases you do), a lot of Hephaestus’s domains fall under Athena’s handcrafting domain (which is just simply making something by hand and not machine made) so metalworking, blacksmithing and Sculpturing all fall under Athena’s domain!

The order of the oldest of Zeus’s/olympian children are wishy washy but personally I see Athena being the oldest well Hephaestus is the second oldest! So for a long time they only really had each other! I also see them being similar-ish in personality, not really emotions/friends type person, kinda blunt, a lil deadpan but if they find someone they care for well they will fight for them!

I believe you also said in your take of EPIC it was Zeus who yeeted Hephaestus off of Olympus which I’m snatching so Athena and Hephaestus can trauma bond over Zeus inflicting lasting a permanent damage to them!

(We are ignoring a certain mythos…I know EPIC is based on greek mythos but tbh I kinda cherry pick what did happen and what didn’t happen in EPIC)

yesss omg

i am so mad about that certain myth honestly bc I LOVE those two. Like they are so similar and have such potential for being great friends/sibs (in their own way ofc) Luckily the mythos allows us to pick and choose what we want lol.

I have this hc that Ares has a black sword with very intricate detailing that Athena and Hephaestus made together as a gift for their little bro.

yeah I agree on all the hcs you put, definitely. Hephaestus: He threw me off Olympus. Like seriously, who does that? At least he treats his own children better... Athena: He did kill my best friend. Hephaestus: Hephaestus: That's rough, buddy.

[ghostieblr]

Definitely Not Adorable Behavior

based on a reel i saw on instagram lol. changed the narrative a bit to fit the characters.

Stiles' eyes track Merlin's, towards the corner of the massive ballroom, where two men are standing with their hands crossed against their chest. Their side-profile are almost identical: crisp, tailored black suits, accentuating their biceps, broad shoulders, and tantalizingly shaped body figures. Even their heights seem to be the same; the only notable difference from this angle is the color of their hair: a dark, deep, raven onyx versus a golden halo.

"They're arguing about something."

"Yes," Merlin sips his drink, the one he's claimed several times into the evening to be a disgusting piece of beverage, and winces. "I don't know why I keep drinking it."

"That's because Arthur brought it for you," Stiles tells him with a knowing smile. "And you won't deny him the pleasure of serving you, no matter how awful the taste might be."

Merlin looks at the gaudy, unneeded, and entirely unnecessary piece of diamond ring that Derek gifted him for this evening. It's almost the same size as his engagement ring, and it sits prettily enough on his left hand's pointer finger. Merlin catches his eye with a gentle smile on his own face.

"Arthur and I share something special," he begins, voice lilting into the foreign accent Stiles hasn't been able to place yet. It sounds like Welsh, but different than the one he knows. Older. "For a long time I thought my devotion to him wouldn't be reciprocated, and it was fine. I was fine with it. But as always, the clotpole had other ideas." Clotpole. What the hell does that even mean? Merlin's chuckle brings him back to what he is saying, "—told him, and so, now Arthur thinks he must make it up to me."

"Or he just loves you very, very much, but has awful taste."

"That, too."

They'd turned towards each other for the conversation, the din of the hall loud enough to keep it private from prying ears, but now they turn. Someone just gasped, and they're both most definitely into drama from the sidelines.

"Oh my god."

"Are they— ARTHUR!"

"DEREK SEBASTIAN HALE!"

Both men freeze. The old lady who gasped turns to look at them, as does the rest of the room, but Stiles isn't paying them any heed, and neither is Merlin. No. Their focus is entirely on their idiots.

Arthur's left hand is fisted at Derek's tie, and his right hand is frozen near his waist, crooked fingers looking for purchase. Weirdly, Stiles likens this action with looking for a sword in its scabbard, tightened securely near hips.

On the flip side, Derek's got his right hand centimeters from Arthur's nose, while his left one must be aiming to intercept Arthur's sword-hand or whatever.

And their faces. Oh Jesus Christ, their faces.

Red with anger. Mouths open in a feral cry of war. And eyes? Stuck on Stiles and Merlin, fear melting their rage.

Both him and Merlin stride towards them, Merlin's glass of questionably purple drink handed to one of the catering staff, and it's as if their movement reminds Arthur and Derek that they're caught. They jump apart, though they do share a look of commiserating grief over being caught.

Bastards. United against spousal anger.

Merlin and him don't say anything in this hall with interested ears and human eyes and multitudes of equipment ready to immortalize this scene; they simply take their respective husband's hands in their own and drag them out towards the parking lot, which happens to be mostly empty. Still, they go in deeper towards a secluded corner.

Once there, Stiles stares their Derek down, hands back at his sides. Merlin does the same.

"So? Care to elaborate what the fuck that was about?" His question is met nervous breathing and another commiserating look. "Oh, so now you're both buddy-buddy, but inside the hall you two were — what, enemies?" He snorts. He can't help it; Derek and him have faced literal monsters, and yet Derek was about to fight a posh, young man for... some reason?

Before either of them can speak, Merlin narrows his eyes. "Wait. Was this a ruse?"

"A ruse? What do you mean, Merlin?"

"Your royal pratness, by that I mean a very elaborate scheme to leave that dull place with questionable drinks and—"

Arthur's face goes from confused to dull. "Did you not like the Favor?"

"Favor?" Merlin question's, and Stiles shoots Derek a look to shush. Why the hell is he finding this so funny?

"That's what the drink was called. And it was purple. It wasn't nice? So I..." Arthur's gaze turns wide. "And you still drank it all! I even brought you a second glass of it, why didn't you tell me you didn't like it?"

Merlin rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture. When no answers seem forthcoming from him, Stiles steps in.

"It was thoughtful, I guess, since I'm gonna assume purple and that name means something to you both?" They nod in assent. "Right. See, thoughtful gifts are nice... but not always. Like, maybe you like it, but Merlin wouldn't. And it's not a bad thing at all, you just need to communicate."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Says the man who hates the diamond ring gifted to him."

Stiles hisses, "Hey!" at the same time Derek asks, voice small, "Stiles?"

He turns towards his husband, moves closer. "Hey, it's nice. It's a very good gift."

Arthur says, weirdly with glee, "Which you don't like!"

"I love the thought behind it though!"

"But you don't like it," Derek repeats, eyes on Stiles', daring him to lie again.

Stiles cups his face, rubs his thumb against his stubble. "No," he admits. "I don't."

"I think we have gone a bit off-track here," Merlin says, after a while. Stiles turns to see the other couple in a similar position: in an almost-embrace, an intimate moment shared. "Why were you two at each other's throats?"

A third look is shared between Derek and Arthur. Then, Derek says, "It was about what that lady asked us."

"Yeah."

Merlin and Stiles wait for further elaboration, one which doesn't come. Now they share a look, and take a step to move away from their respective embraces. That, apparently, does the trick, and Arthur continues from his monosyllable answer, neither of the men letting Merlin or Stiles leave their personal space in the process.

"She asked us, 'What's the most expensive thing you've ever eaten?' and we told her. We disagreed at each other's answer, though."

"This was done over a trivial question? Derek. What the hell."

"I wonder how bigger your head can grow, Arthur. Really?"

Derek leans in close to him and tells him, in almost his Alpha voice, "My answer was you."

Stiles blinks. Huh? "Huh?" And then, "Oh my god—"

"And I said you," Arthur adds. "Of course, my Merlin is more expensive than your husband."

"I said this, and I'll say this again: Stiles is literally wearing the most expensive set of clothes right now on this side of the coast, he's wearing two diaomond rings, and that's just today's outfit."

Both Derek and Arthur push him and Merlin behind them, and move closer to each other, gearing up for a fight. Again.

"Unappreciated gifts don't count, and my husband is wearing a neckerchief made of the most pure gold, and that's just one of them!"

Stiles and Merlin look at each other.

"I had no idea this suit was that fucking expensive," he tells the man, who is eyeing up his own neckerchief in betrayal.

"You said this was just the color gold!"

"Merlin, we're leaving. Let's go."

"Yes. They can duke it out between themselves, while we enjoy this evening with people who tell us the truth."

They turn around, and start walking back towards the ballroom. Behind them, the fight never occurs. Instead, pounding footsteps follow them, and really, this evening did not go how Stiles had envisioned it to be.

(Lydia tells them a week later that "Derek Hale and Arthur Emrys begging their partners for forgiveness in the charity gala" is still a solid opening hit for a conversation, and Merlin rolls his eyes before his eyes glow gold and his favorite chips appear in his hand.

Because apparently, they're the Merlin and Arthur: Magic itself, and the Once and Future King.

Stiles' own eyes glow a deep purple, and both him and Lydia now have their favorite drinks in their hands.

Meanwhile, Derek's authority and Arthur's ego clash over something else equally trivial in the kitchen. Hopefully their bickering won't get in the way of dinner.

If it does... oh well. A Spark and The Sorcerer can cook something, can't they?

And no, both him and Merlin have decided that in no way, shape, or form, are they telling their husbands that the fact that their arguments occur mostly over being the 'better husband' is adorable. Nope, never, ever.)

[laufire]

12, 15, 26

12. longest fic you read this year.

If we go by individual fics, A Bat and a Reporter Break Into a Warehouse by HMSLusitania, which isn't exactly long at all lol (6k). I'm Timkon neutral but it put the idea of a Tim & Lois teamup in my head and that's an absolute wonder.

If we count series, definitely yours :P, though I'm still not caught up 😔

15. favourite headcanon of the year.

Answered here and here but for you I obviously must mention all my future career-related headcanons lmao. Just to list some, since I haven't post about them on main that much:

Jason is obviously the character I've thought most about lol (shocker). I tend to prefer giving him STEM-related careers, especially related to the medical field, while also letting him indulge in his more artistic side in other ways (my future doctor Jason is also a cello player, my biochem student Jason acts in a theatre group, etc.). But in one WIP he's actually an up-and-coming playwright in the Gotham theatre scene xD, while also doing a lot of tech stuff on the hero side of things.

Dick becomes an emergency operator in one of my WIPs (after he's hit with the disability stick via acquired hemophilia, Because).

Cass I like to picture as a dance teacher for kids, in an ~informal way. This is how she and her future Robin, aka the new earth!Duke Thomas that exists in my head, meet :P

Medical field for Steph too!!! I do love the idea of her becoming a doctor, or a nurse (like in Convergence: Batgirl), but I also like her as an EMT.

With Tim I've found some inspiration in his Arkham Knight version, who works as a teacher. Except I make him work in a university instead, because it's more interesting to me. In the young justice tv verse I reimagined him as an archeologist working on becoming a professor for Gotham U, and in another WIP he dropped the corporate world and became a photojournalist (he and Vicki Vale are bitter rivals), and he gives occasional guest lectures.

I saw a post a while ago about Damian channelling his artistic side into making weapons -real ones for the superhero side, but also becoming quite a name in making props for Hollywood films. I love it lol.

DUKE IS GONNA GET HIS MATH PHD, JUST YOU WATCH. And yes, he still writes poetry <3

Mia is the non-bat character I've thought most about on this front, also unsurprising lol. I bestow upon her the dubious honour of one of my degrees, political science xD. I like the idea of her being inspired by Oliver's stint as Star City's mayor, trying to make a different, etc. Though I'm of two minds: in one WIP she continues down that root, getting involved in grassroot politics (and also some... not at all legal vigilante-related actions on the side lol); in another, she gets burn out and after a while, decides to go back to study and becomes a physical therapist, often helping out in anti-trafficking organizations as a fitness instructor too.

26. best song you listened to this year.

"No Death" by Mirel Wagner and "In Every Dream Home A Heartache" by Roxy Music are the ones that left the biggest impression.

[akookminsupporter]

Sorry for the skz fan but... i dont really think they are lol

They are doing better in terms of streams than other bgs (but worse than ggs) and they have a lot of sales like any other bgs cause the fans inflate the sales. Bts with the same year (i think 5?) were already top10 on hot100 and all the charts made sense (number 1 on bb200 and top10 on hot100).

A lot of these groups are only able to go to these awards shows and be nominated (kpop categories) bcs bts made it possible, but i dont think they will ever leave bts shadow

Maybe ive been too harsh sorry lol but yeah they are not there yet and i dont think their music is going to take them there either (they are not even successfull in their own country - only on sales bcs of the 2973 versions)

In my initial post about this, I made it clear that my question wasn’t about streaming numbers because I know that when it comes to that, no one comes close to BTS. Even Jimin and Jungkook, as solo artists, have streaming figures that other groups haven’t achieved even if you combined their entire discographies. So no, my point wasn’t necessarily about streaming success or chart dominance although that's an important part of this conversation.

What I’m really referring to is the general interest in the Western market. For instance, another group that is often mentioned alongside BTS is BP. From what I’ve seen, they don’t have the same numbers, records, or awards that BTS has earned over the years and their popularity seems to be driven more by their individual projects, which are often unrelated to music, like brand endorsements, fashion appearances, or acting roles but despite this, Western mainstream media frequently references them as references to KPOP.

BTS’s success and interest in them have definitely been because of their music and their fans. Those are the key things you always hear or read about when people talk about them, and that’s not something I’ve noticed happening with other groups. Even when you move away from social media—where many groups are incredibly popular—you hardly see them mentioned in specialised press or mainstream media in general.

In my everyday life, I know plenty of people who’ve at least heard of BTS and even of Jimin. Jimin, in particular, seems to have some serious name recognition among locals. They might not know his music and a lot of the time, they don’t even know what he looks like, but they’ve definitely heard his name. At least, that’s been the case with the locals I know. I just don’t see that happening with other groups.

Anon mentioned examples where SKZ has broken through certain barriers in the West, but maybe it’s not as consistent. I think one major thing other groups are lacking—and it’s a big disadvantage—is the kind of fandom they have. ARMY is a fandom that’s almost as well-known as BTS itself. It’s massive, and despite its size, it’s surprisingly organised in many ways.

What’s more, ARMY generates a lot of interest because, at the end of the day, the goal of any market is to sell and to have people ready and willing to buy. The sheer scale and dedication of ARMY make it an undeniable force. It’s not just about supporting BTS; it’s also about creating a presence that attracts attention from all kinds of industries. That’s a level of influence that other groups and their fandoms just don’t seem to have yet.

[livelaughghoul]

Charles 2025 year at a look - Tarot Analysis

Y'all, I am so sorry this has taken me so long. I am going to work through so many of these readings that y'all are going to be overwhelmed with the frequency in which I start posting them.

Here is the specific request:

Hi! Could you please do a reading for how Charles' 2025 year will look like? I see you're on vacation rn and I don't want to really bother you so, please feel free to do it whenever you're in the mood (it's fine if you don't want to do it too) . It's not that urgent anyway lol.

Again, sorry to bother and sorry about your knee too. Hopefully you can still enjoy your vacay!

So I broke this into three, kind of as a beginning, middle, and ending of the 2025 year Charles, and it’s definitely something. It’s definitely going to be an interesting year for Charles, one that is absolutely going to be full of ups and downs.

I’m getting the sense that this year there is going to be a lot of clarity in terms of goals, life accomplishments, and what truly matters to Charles. It’s going to be a year of lessons, and I think we’ll see a lot of growth.

Beginning of the year: Three of Swords, reversed

So we’re starting the year off rough, with Ferrari doing Ferrari things and probably fucking up a lot of things. It’s the heartbreak, it’s an isolation, a sense of betrayal. Since we’re looking at it in the reversal position, it’s going to be exhibited in a more internalized way. In the beginning of the year, we may see Charles more isolated, struggling with the new team dynamic, and taking more issue with his own performance or emotions.

Middle of the year: Knight of Wands

I think with the challenges the beginning of the year will bring, we’re going to see more the hot-tempered, passionate, and restless nature of the Knight. I think that there is going to be a switch that happens, where Charles decides to have a complete fuck it moment and just throw lay everything out on the track without a second thought. Charles has the natural charm of this Knight already, so I think we’ll see it turned up to 100%, and there is going to be a lot of utilizing this charm to be forgiven for some of the more hot-tempered actions and behaviors he exhibits.

Ending of the year: Justice

Congrats to the Charles girlies, because y’all are going to get your dues! There is going to be a moment where he gets what he is owed, and there is a comeback moment, where he is able to make up and redeem the earlier misgivings or setbacks. He’s going to feel a sense of accomplishment, and be able to find that sense of right.

[weird-mcyt-dreams]

HI

I have sooooo many weird mcyt dreams so you might be seeing a lot of me lol

First I'd like to dig up an old one, in this dream Pearl, Ren, Grian, and probably a couple other hermits were in a badlands biome but it looked more realistic. Pearl had a cat named Windcat who died for some reason related to Ren, so she stole his gecko named Gecku and ran off into the red sand desert with no food or water. Everyone is really sad because they think she'll kill Ren's gecko and they make pictures of the gecko to cheer Ren up because he's so sad. Out in the desert Pearl is just running with the gecko in her hand, and then she stops and decides that actually this isn't a good idea and that she should definitely go back because 1, she feels bad about stealing Ren's gecko and 2, she'll need food/water soon. And as such, she runs back! But as she's almost there, she checks her hand and realizes the gecko isn't there anymore. She goes back anyway, and somehow no one is actually mad at her? But Ren still misses his gecko. Pearl is also a little frustrated that people drew things for the gecko even though it wasn't even confirmed to be dead but didn't draw anything for Windcat, and I think dream!Pearl needs a little bit of therapy tbh

.