#v: pitch perfect cast

[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 4 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains extreme emotional manipulation from naoya, reader discretion advised】

ꨄ words: 9.3k

ꨄ a/n. okaaaay time for some angst ya'll. this series is taking a serious turn 🥲 also, as i said earlier, originally this chapter was 20k words buuuut i decided to split it up. i know ya'll said you wouldn't mind one long chapter but it's just, there are moments that i really want to give more time to breathe. you'll get ch 5 soon though, enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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ch 4 // shadows of doubt

“…you sure you’re okay watching Haru?” you ask, hovering by the doorway, your fingers lightly brushing the doorframe as you steal one last glance into the living room.

The television screen casts a soft glow over Satoru and Haru, nestled together on the couch.

Satoru’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he fumbles with the TV remote, cycling through the menu. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his tongue peeking out slightly at the corner in a classic expression of someone deeply focused.

His usually tousled white hair is messier than usual, as if he’s run his hands through it a few too many times in frustration, and his sweater hangs loosely on his frame, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

It’s a stark contrast to the sharp, tailored suits you’re used to seeing him in.

But that’s because right now, he’s just Satoru—the guy who’s clearly struggling with something as simple as setting up a kid’s TV show, and yet, there’s something incredibly endearing about it.

Haru, oblivious to his difficulties, swings her tiny legs back and forth in a rhythm of excitement as she sits beside him.

It’s a picture of domesticity that feels almost too perfect to disrupt—a scene that brings warmth, but also a sharp pang of guilt.

Guilt—of what you are about to do.

“Yes, of course,” he replies without missing a beat, light yet reassuring. He glances up at you briefly, offering a warm smile. “Do what you need to do, it’s important to have time to yourself.”

Right now, it feels like you don’t deserve that smile.

The ache in your chest intensifies at the sincerity in his words, making the lie you’re carrying out feel even heavier.

Finally, after a few more clicks, the TV springs to life, and a triumphant grin spreads across Satoru’s face as the familiar Digimon theme song bursts through the speakers.

The sound seems to ignite a spark of joy in Haru, her face wide eyed as she turns her full attention to the screen.

“Besides, I promised her we’d watch Digimon together,” Satoru says, his voice laced with affection as he glances at Haru. “Now’s the perfect time. Right, Haru?”

Haru beams, her small body practically vibrating with excitement as she snuggles closer to him.

“Wow, look ‘toru, look!” she exclaims gleefully, her voice high-pitched with exhilaration as she points at the screen.

Her eyes sparkle with wonder, completely captivated by the vibrant colors and lively characters dancing across the television.

“Yay!” she claps her hands together.

A tender smile curls upon Satoru’s lips as he shifts his gaze from Haru to you. His blue eyes, always so vibrant and full of life, are soft and inviting, radiating a sense of calm—a calm that should put you at ease, but why does it fill you with more guilt?

“See? We’ve got it all under control. Go do what you need to do, and don’t worry about a thing.”

His words are spoken with such warmth and trust—it should comfort you, but instead your unease twists further in your gut.

You force a smile, trying to push away the shame that threatens to rise to the surface.

“Alright,” you murmur, “I won’t be long.”

But you linger for just a moment longer, unable to tear your eyes away from the heartwarming sight before you.

The way Satoru drapes an arm around Haru, pulling her closer as they both become engrossed in the show—you realize something profound.

It’s in the subtle details—the way he listens intently to her excited chatter, how he nods along, genuinely interested in every little thing she points out, even if it’s something as simple as a colorful character on the screen.

Satoru isn’t just watching Digimon with Haru; he’s immersing himself in her world.

He’s someone who takes the time to enjoy the things she loves, someone who listens to her with the patience and attentiveness she deserves. He’s supporting her curiosity, encouraging her to explore and express herself, making her feel valued in a way that is both gentle and profound.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted for Haru—a stable, loving figure in her life, someone she can depend on, someone who can always be there for her. Someone who makes her feel safe, cherished, and free to be her true self.

Someone Naoya never was.

But this relationship is a contract, a charade—a lie.

And now, this new lie you’re about to bring to the table, casts an even darker shadow over this picture of domestic bliss.

There is a storm cloud, threatening to break at any moment—to drench you in an unforgiving rain. And that storm cloud is your reality.

The reality that this relationship has always been a lie, hasn’t it?

So... is what you’re doing really any different?

As you turn to leave, your body feels heavy, burdened by the deception you’re carrying with you.

Closing the door behind you, the soft click echoes in your ears as you begin to walk down the hallway, away from the warmth of the living room and into the cold reality of the decision you’ve made.

ꨄ

A soft jingle rings above your head as you push open the glass door to the coffee shop—a sound almost too cheerful considering what’s to come. Once the door closes behind you with a muted thud, your fate is sealed.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee hits you first, rich and earthy, mingling with the sweet, buttery aroma of pastries that line the display case. It’s a combination that would normally invite comfort, a location for quiet relaxation.

Today, however, that feels entirely out of reach.

Only a few patrons are scattered about, each lost in their own world—reading books, typing away on laptops, or simply enjoying company. The soft murmur of conversation barely registers in your ears as your eyes sweep across the room.

Within moments you spot Naoya, seated at a corner table in the back, a place where the dimness nearly swallows him whole, casting long shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin.

His chosen spot is strategic, offering both a sense of privacy and an air of intimidation.

It’s a stage he’s set perfectly.

The way he sits—one arm draped casually over the back of the booth, the other cradling a coffee cup—exudes an unsettling confidence, as if he’s already decided the outcome of this meeting.

His minacious eyes rake over you and he registers the trepidation in your step, causing a shiver to run down your spine as his lips slowly curl into a predatory smirk.

Setting down his cup of coffee with a practiced ease, the porcelain clinks softly against the saucer. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he waves you over, the gesture so casual it’s almost insulting, as if he were summoning a servant rather than inviting a conversation.

You lower yourself into the chair across from him with measured deliberation, desperately trying to project a façade of composure even as anxiety, anger, and guilt roil within you like a brewing storm.

Unfortunately, the table between you and Naoya feels woefully insufficient, a flimsy barrier against the man who once wielded a terrifying influence over your life—a man who now threatens to shatter the fragile peace you’ve painstakingly pieced together.

“y/n,” he begins, his voice smooth and slick, like oil spilling over water, spreading tendrils of unease. “I’m glad you decided to show up.”

You force a tight smile, though it feels more like a grimace.

“You didn’t exactly leave me much of a choice, did you?”

A low insidious chuckle leaves Naoya’s lips, the noise grating on your nerves. His cold calculating eyes hold your gaze as he tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you feel like a mouse caught in a trap, every avenue of escape cut off, leaving you with nowhere to run.

“Tch. What else am I supposed to do?” his tone drips with mock innocence, as if he’s genuinely puzzled. “You don’t answer any of my calls. It’s almost like you’re trying to avoid me.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something dark and unreadable passing through them.

“You look well, though. I’ve missed you.”

The casual cruelty in his tone, the way he throws out those words—words that should carry weight—as if they mean nothing, as if he hasn’t been tormenting you.

It makes your skin crawl.

“I didn’t come here to chat, Naoya,” you say firmly. “What do you want?”

You catch a flash of his white teeth in the dim light of the coffee shop, but there’s a cruel twist to his lips, a smugness that makes your stomach churn with unease.

“Straight to the point, I see. I always loved that about you,” he drawls, his tone almost affectionate.

He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a posture of relaxed arrogance.

There is a beat of silence as he pauses, as if savoring each moment of your discomfort, drawing it out and relishing the control he has over the situation.

The control he has over you.

“I think you know what I want, y/n,” he continues, tone almost patronizing, as if speaking to a child who just doesn’t understand. “I want what’s best for Haru. I’m sure you do too.”

“You’re threatening to take her away from me. How is that what’s best for her?” you scoff, though the defiance in your voice barely masks the trembling fear underneath.

His gaze roams over you, assessing, calculating, and it takes everything in you not to shrink under the weight of his scrutiny.

When he speaks again, his voice is a low, dangerous whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, cold as ice and sharp as a blade.

“Because,” he hisses, the word dripping with venom, “you’re not thinking clearly. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. Haru deserves stability, a future where she’s not dragged into whatever mess you and Satoru are involved in.”

The accusation cuts deep, and despite your best efforts, you flinch slightly at his words, the reaction small but not unnoticed.

Naoya’s eyes glint with satisfaction, feeding off the fear and uncertainty he’s managed to briefly instill within you.

Before you can muster a response, he leans in closer, his tone shifting, becoming smooth and insidious, like poison seeping through the cracks of your resolve.

“Oh y/n,” he sighs, voice dripping with false sympathy, “I know this thing with Satoru is just a charade. You may think you’re merely playing house, but what you’re actually doing is setting Haru up for confusion and heartache. What kind of future is that for her?”

It’s like he’s pulled the rug out from under your feet. The air around you seems to thicken, making it hard to breathe. Because deep down, a part of you has feared how this arrangement may affect Haru.

The doubt that Naoya is sowing isn’t new—it’s something you’ve deliberately tried to ignore.

The connection Haru is forming with Satoru, the bond that’s growing stronger every day—isn’t it built on a foundation of lies?

What happens when it all crumbles—what happens to Haru then?

What if you’re setting her up for a heartbreak that she’s too young to understand?

Ah…but that’s what Naoya is good at, isn’t it?

He thrives on stirring a visceral reaction within you, on playing your emotions like a finely tuned instrument. And you know better—you know better than to believe that his actions have anything to do with Haru’s well-being.

After all, Naoya has only ever used Haru as a tool to control you, to manipulate you into doing his bidding.

He doesn’t truly want Haru—he never has.

This is just a twisted game, another attempt to bend you to his will.

“Naoya,” you begin, voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “this isn’t about what’s best for Haru. Cut the crap,” you snap, the frustration seeping through your words, giving you a fleeting sense of strength. “Don’t play games with me. What are you really after?”

Naoya’s response is a soft, chilling chuckle, a sound so unnerving that it slithers around you, making your skin prickle with unease.

He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with a twisted sense of satisfaction, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that’s as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“You’re not as naïve as you look,” he murmurs.

With a deliberate elegance, he runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back and straightening his posture as if ready to present himself for something significant. He then leans forward, fixing you with a gaze that feels like a vise tightening around your heart.

“I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

You swallow hard, forcing the question past the lump in your throat.

“What kind of deal?”

His eyes glisten with satisfaction, a spark of triumph lighting them up as if this is the moment he’s been waiting for all along.

“Do you remember the case that was quietly swept under the rug a few years back?” he begins, tone almost conversational. “The one that could have destroyed the Gojo family? Well of course, you don’t—because the Gojos made sure no one remembered.”

A cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach as the gravity of what he’s saying begins to sink in. You try to piece together what he could possibly mean, but the implications are too terrifying to fully grasp.

“…what are you saying?”

Naoya’s smirk widens, a cruel light flickering in his eyes as he watches your reaction.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, y/n. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The Gojo family isn’t as squeaky clean as they’d like everyone to believe. That closed case—it’s a time bomb waiting to go off, and I’m the one holding the detonator.”

With a casual elegance, Naoya places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I want you to help me reopen the case,” his voice now a silky, dangerous murmur. “I need inside information, something to poke holes in the Gojo family’s defense. Satoru trusts you, doesn’t he? He’s practically handed you the keys to the kingdom.”

Your blood runs cold as you grapple with the enormity of what he’s asking.

“You want me to spy on Satoru? To dig up dirt on his family?”

Naoya shrugs, the gesture so casual, so dismissive, as if the request is the most natural thing in the world.

“Spy is such an ugly word. Let’s call it… protecting your daughter’s future. You help me get the information I need, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

You feel sick to your stomach as the full impact of his ultimatum crashes down on you.

Your skin crawls at the way he frames it—to him it’s as if he’s offering you a lifeline, a way out of an impossible situation. But the reality is, he’s trapping you, coercing you into betraying the one person who has given you a chance at a new life.

Betray Satoru?

The very thought twists like a knife in your gut.

Satoru—the man who has shown you nothing but kindness, who has gone out of his way to make you feel safe, to make you feel valued. The man who has opened his home to you and Haru, who has treated your daughter with a warmth and love that you never thought she would receive.

How could you possibly betray him? Be his downfall? The mere thought of it makes your chest tighten, your heart aching with the weight of the impossible decision that Naoya is forcing upon you.

But then, the other side of the coin looms large and terrifying: the risk of losing Haru forever. The thought of her being taken from you, of her being dragged into Naoya’s world, is a nightmare you can’t bear to even consider.

The two most important people in your life, and Naoya is forcing you to choose between them.

How can you possibly make such a choice?

“I…I can’t do that, Naoya. Satoru—he’s done nothing wrong,”

The words feel hollow, desperate, as if you’re grasping for some semblance of control in a situation where you have none.

Naoya’s expression darkens, the cold veneer of civility slipping as a more menacing presence takes over. He leans in closer, the air around him growing colder, heavier with the weight of his intentions.

“Satoru and his family deserve whatever’s coming to them,” he hisses. “You just have to decide whose side you’re on. Corporate malpractice, insider trading, possibly even a cover-up. The Gojo family has skeletons in their closet, and I intend to expose them. But to do that, I need information. Inside information.”

“No, Naoya,” you say more forcefully, your voice trembling slightly but growing steadier as your resolve hardens. “That would destroy Satoru.”

For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in Naoya’s eyes—frustration, perhaps, or irritation at your defiance. But it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by a darker, more calculating expression.

“You think this is a game, y/n?” his voice drips with disdain. “You think Satoru won’t throw you to the wolves the moment things get tough? He’s a Gojo, through and through. They protect their own, and you’re not one of them.”

A cold dread washes over you as his words echo in your mind, sinking into the darkest corners of your thoughts.

Wait…is he actually, right?

No—you push back against the rising tide of doubt. Satoru wouldn’t do that. He’s been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding. He’s given you no reason to believe he would ever abandon you, especially not in a moment of crisis.

But… then there’s the stipulation in your contract. The one that states any poor publicity to his name would result in being cut off from all financial support.

The words of the contract flash in your mind, stark and unforgiving.

You had brushed it off as a mere formality when you first signed it, a precautionary clause meant to protect his reputation. But now, under the weight of Naoya’s words, it feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off the moment anything goes wrong.

Doubt seeps into your veins, intertwining with the fear that Naoya’s threat might have more truth to it than you’d like to admit.

Could Satoru really turn his back on you if the situation spiraled out of control? Would he prioritize his family name, his legacy, over you and Haru?

Seeing the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, Naoya’s expression softens, adopting a mask of concern. His voice lowers, becoming almost gentle, as if he’s offering you a lifeline.

“But if you help me,” he continues, silky and persuasive, “you’ll have leverage—real power. You’ll be in control. Think about Haru. Think about what’s best for her.”

“I… I don’t think I can do it,” the words escape your lips in a trembling whisper.

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and his voice hardens.

“You don’t have much of a choice, y/n. You’re in this mess because of your own decisions. Instead of relying on me you chose him. But lucky for you, I’m offering you a way out—a way to keep Haru safe. But if you refuse, I will use every legal trick in the book to take her from you. And believe me, I will win. I always do.”

The finality in his words leaves no room for doubt—Naoya isn’t bluffing.

He’s a man who gets what he wants, no matter the cost, and the ruthless determination in his eyes tells you that he’s more than willing to destroy your life to achieve his goals.

“You’re a monster,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Naoya’s response is immediate, his smirk widening with satisfaction.

“I’m a lawyer,” he corrects, his tone dripping with smugness. “And I’m very good at what I do.”

You look down, unable to meet his gaze.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” you whisper.

Naoya’s eyes gleam with triumph as a victorious smirk curls upon his lips. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a slim envelope.

With a deliberate slowness, he slides it across the table, the paper making a soft, ominous rustle as it comes to a stop in front of you.

“Inside this is everything you need to help me. I want information, y/n. Information on Satoru. His business dealings, his vulnerabilities—anything I can use to gain leverage over him.”

The envelope sits there between you, a tangible representation of the impossible choice you’re being forced to make.

Your hands twitch at your sides, but you can’t bring yourself to reach for it—the burden of its contents is far too heavy.

Naoya leans back in his chair, watching intently for any sign of hesitation, his gaze unyielding. He presses you again, his voice a smooth, sinister whisper.

“You help me, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

Your hand trembles as you extend it, hovering over the envelope. Naoya’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph, anticipating your surrender.

But just as your fingertips brush the envelope, you stop.

The smile slips from Naoya’s face, replaced by a flicker of surprise, then annoyance, as you push the envelope back across the table. The cold edge of the paper scrapes against your skin, the sound eerily loud in the tense silence between you.

“I’ll need some time,” you say finally, your voice quieter now, more controlled, though it takes everything in you to keep it steady. “This isn’t a decision I can make lightly.”

Naoya’s expression darkens, his patience clearly waning. With a swift, almost irritated motion, he snatches the envelope and tucks it back into his coat pocket.

“I’m not a patient man, y/n, you know this,” he warns, the threat clear in his tone. “You have one week. If I don’t get an answer by then, the custody battle begins. And trust me,” his tone drops to a menacing whisper, “you don’t want to fight me in court.”

“I’ll let you know,” you murmur, unable to meet his gaze as your eyes are fixed on the table between you.

Naoya’s smirk returns, a slow, victorious curve of his lips.

It’s a look that says he’s already won, that he’s confident you’ll bend to his will.

“Good girl. I know you’ll see reason. I’ll expect your call soon.”

He stands with a deliberate calmness, smoothing the front of his jacket before tossing a few bills onto the table as if this entire conversation has been nothing more than a routine business transaction.

The casualness of his movements, the ease with which he holds your fate in his hands, only serves to deepen the pit of dread forming in your stomach.

“Think it over, love. I’ll be in touch.”

With those final words, Naoya turns and strides out of the coffee shop, leaving you sitting there, feeling as though the walls are closing in around you.

You can’t shake the feeling that no matter what you decide, something precious will be lost.

ꨄ

It’s much later than you intended—a few hours past the time you told Satoru you’d be home. But after your meeting with Naoya, you simply couldn’t summon the strength to face him.

How could you possibly stand before him now?

The very thought of looking into his eyes feels like a betrayal in itself, as if the truth you’re hiding might spill out just from his gaze alone.

Naoya’s words continue to echo in your mind, twisting around your thoughts like a serpent coiling tighter with each passing moment.

You can almost hear the whispers of scandal creeping through the corridors of the Gojo Corporation.

Surely this custody battle would bring poor publicity to Satoru’s name… knowing Naoya, it would be a spectacle—a media circus designed to tarnish every aspect of Satoru’s life.

Your heart races as you picture the headlines splashed across every tabloid, the relentless swarm of reporters, cameras flashing like a thousand tiny daggers aimed at your very soul.

They’d dig into every corner of your lives, twisting facts and fabricating lies until the truth is buried beneath layers of sensationalism.

You’ve seen Satoru’s world—perfectly organized, meticulously maintained, a reflection of the man himself. But Naoya has the power to create cracks in that perfect image, to expose the vulnerabilities hidden beneath the surface.

He would ensure it—he’d savor every moment of watching Satoru’s pristine reputation crumble, brick by brick.

What would Satoru do if you told him Naoya’s intentions?

Would he support you, or would he choose to protect himself, his legacy, over you and Haru?

The very thought makes your heart ache, a sharp pang of fear twisting through your chest—fear of losing the delicate balance you’ve found with Satoru, of watching it all unravel because of Naoya’s malice.

What is the right choice to make?

The question loops endlessly in your mind, a never-ending cycle of doubt that gnaws at your resolve.

You don’t know what to believe any more.

You need time—something you don’t have an abundance of right now. After all, you can’t avoid Satoru forever—he’ll wonder where you’ve been, what’s kept you away for so long.

And so, reluctantly, with a heart heavy and unresolved emotions, you return home.

ꨄ

The faint ticking of the grand clock echoes in the house as you creak open the door and re-enter. The sound, which usually blends into the background of your day, now feels loud—almost deafening in the silence of the home.

Rounding your way to the living room, the dim glow of the television casts flickering shadows on the walls—the only thing that seems alive in the stillness.

But the sight you are met with is something entirely unexpected—something that pushes away the darkness inside of you, if only for a moment.

Satoru sits on the couch, his posture relaxed but his expression one of bemused helplessness, as though he’s found himself in a situation that he’s not quite sure how to navigate.

His long legs are stretched out in front of him, but there’s a tenderness in the way he holds his arms around the small figure resting against him.

Haru, curled up on his lap, is nestled against his chest, her tiny body rising and falling with each gentle breath as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seems to lull her deeper into sleep. One of her small hands clutches the fabric of his shirt, as if seeking comfort even in her dreams, while the other is tucked close to her body, holding her favorite plush toy—Pikachu.

The TV is on, but the volume is muted, playing some late-night rerun that neither of them are paying attention to as the soft flickering light illuminates against them.

Satoru glances up as you enter the room, eyes brightening as he spots you. A sheepish smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a mixture of relief and quiet joy at your return.

“Hey, welcome back,” he says softly, careful not to disturb Haru.

It’s moments like this, that make it impossible to doubt him. The warmth in his voice makes the knot of tension in your chest loosen, if only a little.

You manage a small smile in return.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

As you begin to set your things down—your bag, your coat—Satoru’s gaze follows you, soft and attentive.

“Did you enjoy your time to yourself?”

It’s such a simple question, yet it’s loaded with the weight of the lie you’re living.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels, and nod, trying to keep your voice steady and light.

“Yeah…it was nice to have a little break.”

A tender smile curls upon his lips, his relief evident as he nods back.

“Good. You deserve some time for yourself.”

The words are filled with such warmth and care that it almost breaks you. But you swallow down the guilt, knowing you can’t afford to let it show. Not now.

As you make your way towards him, your gaze softens, drawn irresistibly to the sight of Haru. You kneel down beside the couch, your eyes tracing the delicate lines of her face, so peaceful and content as she rests in Satoru's lap.

“She fell asleep?” your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, shifting slightly but careful not to wake her.

“Yeah. We were watching Digimon like I promised, but she conked out halfway through. I didn’t know what to do, so I’ve just been sitting here for the past two hours.”

Your heart swells at his words—the thought of Satoru sitting there, his world seemingly paused just to let her sleep undisturbed, truly that is real… right?

You reach out and gently brush a strand of hair from Haru’s face, your fingers lingering for a moment on her cheek.

Her skin warm and smooth, her breathing steady and calm, the gentle rise and fall of her chest—each element is a testament to the trust she’s placed in this space that Satoru has helped create.

She looks so at peace, so completely untroubled and…it’s all thanks to Satoru.

You can’t stop the words from slipping out, even though they’re laced with the bittersweet ache of everything that’s happened.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his. “For everything.”

He smiles at you, that soft, understanding smile that always seems to reach his eyes.

“Of course. She’s a wonderful kid. It’s my pleasure.”

Leaning down, you gently scoop Haru into your arms, cradling her small body against you. She stirs slightly, her little face scrunching up in sleep, but she doesn’t wake, simply burrowing closer to you as you hold her, seeking the comfort of your warmth.

“I’ll put her to bed,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Satoru watches you with a fond smile, his eyes following you as you move towards the stairway.

“y/n,” he calls after you, his tone a little hesitant.

You turn back to face him, noticing the subtle way his expression has shifted—an unspoken concern lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you’ve come to recognize as his way of showing uncertainty. “It’s kind of short notice, but we were invited to a big charity gala tomorrow night. It’s a pretty important event, and they’re expecting us to attend. And, well… we’re anticipated to do an interview this time.”

Ah—the discomfort returns in an instant, like a cold shiver racing down your spine.

The weight of his words settles heavily on your shoulders, adding yet another layer of complexity to the tangled web you find yourself ensnared in.

The thought of standing in front of cameras, of answering questions about a relationship that is already so fraught with secrets and lies, sends your mind spiraling into a storm of anxiety.

But you can’t let any of that show. Not now.

Not when Satoru is looking at you with such sincerity, his blue eyes filled with a quiet expectation, clearly relying on you to be by his side through this.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

“Another gala, huh?”

He nods, his expression softening slightly, but the tension doesn’t leave his eyes.

“Yeah, this one’s for a good cause, and, well, appearances matter. It’s important that we present a united front.”

Appearances matter. A bitter reminder of Naoya’s taunting words.

Satoru is a Gojo after all—and for a Gojo, appearances are everything. The pristine image he maintains is not just for show; it’s a fundamental part of who he is, of the world he navigates with such ease.

But where does that leave you? What happens the moment you mess up?

You’ve always been terrible at public speaking, and now you’re expected to partake in an interview?

Will his soft expression turn cold the moment you fail to meet his expectations?

Your heart races, but you push the fear down, locking it away behind a carefully constructed mask of composure.

“Okay,” you swallow. “We’ll figure it out.”

Satoru’s expression softens with visible relief, and he stands up, stretching slightly after having sat in the same position for so long. As his arms extend above his head, the hem of his shirt lifts, revealing a fleeting glimpse of his toned abs.

“Thanks, y/n. I know this whole public thing isn’t easy, but… I really appreciate you doing this with me.”

“Of course,” you manage to say, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “…we’re in this together, right?”

“Yeah. Together.”

The words feel like a betrayal, a dagger of guilt twisting in your chest.

How can you say that when you know what you’re hiding?

How can you say that when you doubt the very man in front of you?

Pushing those thoughts away, you try to focus on the moment, on Satoru’s gentle, almost boyish grin. Despite it all, it’s the kind of smile that makes you want to believe everything will be okay, that makes you want to cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you will get through this.

There is a beat of silence as you shift Haru’s weight slightly in your arms.

You study his face—the subtle vulnerability there, the softness, it makes you think—maybe, just maybe, you can open up to him. Test the waters, gauge his understanding.

Let’s start small… what if you told him your fear of public speaking?

The words hover on the tip of your tongue, a confession that feels both terrifying and necessary.

Would he laugh? Would he brush it off with one of his easy, confident smiles?

Or would he understand, see the anxiety that lies beneath the surface, and offer the reassurance you so desperately need?

Your heart races as you weigh the options, the fear of rejection battling with the desire for connection.

Finally, you take a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. It’s a small step, but it feels monumental in the moment.

“I’m… I’m not really good with public speaking,” you admit quietly, your gaze lowering to the floor. “Maybe we could practice a little? Just so I don’t mess up.”

For a moment, there’s silence.

When you finally dare to look up, you see Satoru’s expression softening even further, a gentle warmth radiating from his eyes as he gazes at you.

The way he looks at you, so full of understanding, so free of judgment—it makes your chest tighten.

“Of course, we can. I actually prepared a script earlier today, just in case you may need it. We can go over it together after you put Haru to bed.”

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“Thank you, Satoru… that would really help.”

Why did you doubt him?

Did Naoya instill that doubt? Or has it always been there, lurking in the shadows of your mind, waiting for the right moment to surface?

The question lingers, a quiet whisper that carries both regret and self-reproach.

He had anticipated your need, had prepared for it without you even asking.

On one hand you feel relief that he’s so understanding, but guilt practically consumes it because now his trust feels like a weight you can’t bear.

It seems at this point, there is no winning for you.

No matter which way you turn, you’re trapped—caught between the desire to commit to him completely and the fear that you’ll inevitably fall short of his expectations.

Your mind is at a constant battle.

“No problem,” he says, his voice pulling you back to the present. He reaches for the remote, turning off the TV, the screen fading to black as the room is cast into a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.

He glances back at you, his expression warm but focused.

“Meet you in the study after you put Haru down?”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod, and turn, heading up the stairs towards Haru’s bedroom.

In the quiet of Haru’s room, you smooth the covers around her small, peaceful form and press a soft kiss on her forehead.

You take a moment to just sit there, watching her sleep—a moment to collect yourself before you return to Satoru.

The soft rise and fall of her chest, the slight twitch of her fingers as she dreams, it all serves as a reminder of the innocence you’re trying so desperately to protect.

You can’t risk losing her. Haru is everything to you.

But how long can you maintain this lie, this pretense that everything is okay, when the truth threatens to tear it all apart?

The mere thought of Haru being taken away, of Naoya sinking his claws into her life, makes your blood run cold.

Right now, you want nothing more than to break down, to cry, to let the tears that have been welling up inside you finally fall.

But you can’t afford to do that. Not now.

Sometimes the difficult thing about being a parent is putting on a front that everything is okay... that everything will be okay, even when it feels like it will not be.

You have to be strong, not just for yourself, but for Haru. She needs you to be her rock, her anchor in the storm, even if you feel like you’re barely holding on.

You pull back, your hand lingering on the edge of her bed for just a moment longer, savoring the last bit of peace before you straighten up, steeling yourself for the next challenge that you must face.

ꨄ

As you enter the study, the door closes behind you with a soft click.

Satoru looks up, sitting at the large mahogany desk, papers spread out in front of him as he offers you a small, reassuring smile. He gestures to the chair beside him.

“Ready?”

You nod, pulling out the chair and sitting down, the leather cushion sinking slightly under your weight.

Leaning forward, Satoru props his elbow on the table as he studies you with soft, focused eyes.

“So, let’s start with the basics. They’ll probably ask how we met, what drew us together... you know, easy stuff.”

He slides the script over to you.

You take the paper, your eyes skimming over the questions—questions that are so casual on the surface.

They’re questions that, for most couples, would evoke warm memories and easy smiles. But the simplicity of these questions only highlights the complexity of the situation.

They should feel easy to answer—answers that would roll off the tongue naturally if your relationship was carved from normal circumstances.

But, that’s not the situation you find yourself in.

The reality of your arrangement makes each question feel like a test—a hurdle you need to clear without revealing too much.

If only it were different—if only the answers could come from a place of truth rather than a carefully constructed narrative.

But it’s not.

This relationship is a contract, a charade—a web of lies.

You nod again, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Alright,” Satoru says, his tone encouraging. “Let’s give it a go. I’ll ask, you answer.”

He clears his throat and starts with the first question.

“So, y/n, how did you and Satoru first meet?”

You take a deep breath, the familiar answer already on the tip of your tongue.

This one is easy because it’s part of the story you’ve both been telling from the beginning. Still, your fingers fidget with the corner of the script, as if grounding yourself in the words.

“I was looking for a new job, and Satoru needed someone with my expertise. It was professional at first, but we just… clicked. Like it was meant to be.”

“Perfect,” he says, tone approving.

He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Now…what drew you to each other?”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the script in your hands. The paper crinkles slightly under your fingers as you try to commit the answer to memory, but the words feel heavy, loaded with the pressure to say the right thing.

Satoru notices your pause and tilts his head, a gentle smile lingering on his lips.

“I was thinking we keep it simple,” he suggests, his eyes locking onto yours with a reassuring calm. “I’ll talk about how I admire how you always put Haru first. People eat that stuff up.”

“Right,” you nod, your voice a little lighter now. “Then how about I talk about how you’re always so supportive and how you’ve made Haru and me feel safe.”

Satoru’s grin broadens, the corners of his mouth curling into a familiar, playful expression. He lets out a contemplative hum, as if considering your words carefully, and then reaches over to tap the tip of your nose playfully.

The touch is light, almost teasing, but it carries with it a sense of warmth, of genuine affection.

“And you can say something about how I’m the most charming, good-looking guy you’ve ever met.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips, the sound carrying with it a sense of relief you hadn’t realized you needed—like exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Your heaviness lifts, replaced by a lightness that feels almost foreign in the midst of all the pressure.

Satoru always seems to know how to break through your tension.

It’s one of the things you’ve come to appreciate about him during this arrangement—the way he can make you laugh, even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

“Of course, because modesty is your best trait,” you grin, and without thinking, you poke his side gently, eliciting a small chuckle from him. “If I say that, I’m certain it would only go straight to your head.”

“Hmm, what can I say? Confidence is key,” he grins, eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark you’ve come to recognize.

You lean back and fold your arms across your chest in a mock gesture of contemplation, your eyes narrowing slightly as you consider his words.

“Confidence? Or arrogance?” you retort, a smirk playing on your lips. “It’s a fine line, Satoru.”

He gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if you’ve struck a mortal blow.

“Arrogance? Me? I’m wounded, truly,” he declares, his voice dripping with exaggerated hurt, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrays the act.

“Right…I think I might have to bring you back down to earth,” your voice carries a note of a playful challenge.

“Glad to know I can count on you,” he replies, leaning back slightly as he comfortably puts his hands behind his neck in a relaxed confidence. “But let’s not forget—you’re the one who’s supposed to be singing my praises. Remember? Charming, good-looking…”

“And don’t forget humble,” you add, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ah, yes, the humblest,” he agrees, nodding solemnly as if he’s just imparted some great wisdom.

But the solemnity only lasts a moment before he breaks into another grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’ve always been known for my humility.”

You can’t help but laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief at his antics. This fleeting sense of normalcy was everything you needed. It almost makes you forget the storm of emotions raging inside you.

“Wow. At this point, I think your ego has its own zip code,” you quip, rolling your eyes.

He grins, but then, with a small, exaggerated sigh, he drops his head down onto the table, resting it on his folded arms as he pouts dramatically.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try to keep my ego in check,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled.

Here is a man who commands boardrooms and makes decisions that influence entire industries, pouting like a child in front of you.

It’s kind of cute, actually, that the powerful CEO can be this… unguarded, this silly, this human.

In these moments, all the layers he wears—of strength, of authority, of responsibility—seem to peel away, leaving behind just… Satoru.

After a moment, he lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint.

“You know… people tell me I’m charming and good-looking all the time, but… I think it’d feel different coming from you. I wouldn’t mind hearing it… just once.”

Your breath catches for a fleeting moment as you observe a glimpse of something in his eyes, something deeper than the usual teasing.

The way he says it, with that mix of playfulness and sincerity, makes your heart flutter in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.

Would it be so bad to indulge him?

“You’re… easy on the eyes,” you say, your voice softer, almost shy.

It’s not quite the grand compliment he was fishing for, but it’s enough to make him smile—the kind of smile that lights up his entire face, making it impossible not to smile back.

“Well, I’ll take that,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, and for just a moment, everything else falls away.

But then, as if unable to resist, Satoru props his head up in the palm of his hand and leans in just a little closer, his smile turning slightly smug.

“You know, you could say it again if you really wanted to. I mean, I’m all ears.”

You raise an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips as you catch onto his game.

“Don’t push your luck, Satoru,” you warn, though your tone is more amused than serious. “Let’s get back to work.”

Satoru chuckles, leaning back with a mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Back to work it is.”

The world outside fades away—the complications, the secrets, the uncertainty of what tomorrow holds—all of it dissolves into the background as you share this brief moment of connection with Satoru.

It’s as if time itself has slowed, allowing you to bask in the warmth of this exchange, to let the comfort of Satoru’s presence ease the weight of your worries.

But the moment can’t last forever.

The reality of your situation looms just beyond the edges of this moment, reminding you of the stakes, of the careful balance you’re trying to maintain.

After all, there’s still work to be done, and as much as you’d like to linger here, in this bubble of lightheartedness, you know you need to keep moving forward.

ꨄ

The hours slip by, and you go over each possible scenario, each potential curveball the interviewers might throw your way.

The script between you becomes both a shield and a lifeline, something to cling to as you navigate the complexities of everything.

Satoru’s voice is steady and reassuring as he guides you through your responses. When you stumble—when the nerves threaten to get the better of you—he’s there with gentle corrections.

His words never harsh or critical, but rather encouraging, help you find your footing again. And whenever he senses the tension rising—the anxiety creeping into your expression—he cracks a joke, designed to draw you back from the edge of your worry.

You find yourself leaning on him more than you expected, his confidence bolstering your own, his belief in you seeping into the cracks of your self-doubt, and with each passing hour, the fear that had settled in your chest begins to ease, replaced by a cautious optimism that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to pull this off.

After running through the script for what feels like the hundredth time, Satoru leans back in his chair—the soft smile tugging at his lips telling you that he’s genuinely pleased with your progress.

“I think you’re ready,” his voice is filled with a quiet confidence. “You’ve got this. Now, you should probably get some rest... it's getting late.”

His words are a welcome relief, washing over you like a balm after the tension of the evening. You nod, feeling the exhaustion from the long day finally catching up to you—all you can think about is the comfort of your bed.

But as you begin to stand, you notice that Satoru remains seated. His posture, which had been so relaxed just moments before, now seems slightly more tense as he appears to be focused on something distant, something you can’t quite place.

The shift is subtle, but it’s enough to give you pause.

“Aren’t you coming?” you ask mid-step, your voice tentative, a hint of concern creeping in.

Satoru looks up at your question, the distant look in his eyes fading as his focus returns to you. His expression softens, the edges of his smile returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No,” he replies, tone gentle but firm. “I’ve got some other business I need to take care of. But don’t worry about it,” he adds quickly, as if sensing your concern. “You should get some rest. You’ve done more than enough for tonight.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the way he brushes off your concern so easily, that makes you hesitate.

Is there something he’s not telling you? Or perhaps, choosing to handle on his own?

There’s a slight droop of his shoulders and his fingers absently drum against the armrest of his chair—a silent rhythm betraying the thoughts running through his mind.

You want to push, to ask him what’s really going on, but something holds you back.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes seem to plead with you to let it go, to trust him when he says it’s nothing you need to worry about.

Or maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s finally settling into your bones, making it harder to think clearly, to muster the energy for another round of questions.

So, instead, you nod again, offering him a small, understanding smile.

“Alright.  Just… don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and though it eases some of your worry, it doesn’t completely dispel it.

“I’ll try not to,” he promises, though you’re not entirely convinced. “Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Making your way down the hallway, the soft light of the bedroom is a welcoming beacon at the end.

The prospect of finally getting rest is almost too tempting to resist, but as you near the door, something tugs at you—a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that refuses to be ignored.

It’s not fair, you think to yourself—pausing just before the threshold of your bedroom.

Satoru stayed up late, helping you with the interview questions, guiding you through each potential challenge with patience and care...and now, he’s left alone to handle his own business needs while you get to sleep.

There was a weariness in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a quiet weight that he seemed determined to hide from you.

Why is he shouldering the responsibility when you agreed you would lead Gojo Corporation together?

The thought gnaws at you, making it hard to turn away.

You sigh, torn between the exhaustion weighing you down and the guilt pushing you forward.

Finally, you decide it’s only right to offer your help, even if just to make sure he’s not taking on too much by himself—and so, with renewed determination, you turn on your heel and quietly make your way back down the hall.

As you approach the door to the study, you’re about to knock when you hear his voice, low and serious, coming from inside. You pause, your hand hovering just inches from the wood, and listen.

“No. That’s not an option. We can’t afford any negative press right now, especially with everything that’s happening.”

Satoru’s voice is firm, almost biting, a tone you’re not used to hearing from him. The usual warmth that so often laces his words is gone, stripped away and replaced by something colder, more calculating.

There’s a pause, and you can faintly hear the murmur of someone on the other end of the line, though their words are indistinct through the phone.

Whatever they’re saying seems to only harden Satoru’s resolve.

“I don’t care what it takes,” Satoru continues, his voice dropping lower, the words coming out with an icy sharpness that feels almost like a threat. “Take care of it. Make sure this stays under wraps. My image can’t take a hit like that, not now.”

Your heart skips a beat, an uneasy feeling creeping up your spine—the warmth of the moment you shared earlier evaporating in an instant.

He sounds different—distant, devoid of the tenderness you’ve come to know… cold.

The man who just hours ago was patient and supportive, who made you feel safe and cared for, now seems like someone else entirely—replaced with this man who seems to care more about maintaining an image than anything else.

Whatever the voice on the other end of the phone says next makes Satoru sigh, a tired, almost frustrated sound.

You inch closer to the door, your breath shallow as you strain to hear more, but his voice drops lower, slipping into a tone that’s more guarded, more secretive.

“Yes, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary,” Satoru says, his words clipped, as if he’s weighing each one carefully before letting it fall. “We have to protect the Gojo name at all costs. And that includes… well, you know what it includes. Just handle it.”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

…what does that include? The vague words hang in the air and you feel a sharp stab of anxiety.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you back away from the door, the doubts you’d tried so hard to push aside earlier now crashing back with full force, overwhelming you.

What is he talking about? What could be so important that it needs to be kept under wraps at all costs?

Questions race through your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

And what did he mean by “protecting the Gojo name”? Is that all this is to him—just a carefully crafted image that needs to be maintained, no matter the cost?

The thought stings, a sharp pain that cuts deeper the more you dwell on it.

You can’t help but wonder, as you stand there in the dimly lit hallway, if you’ll ever truly know where his priorities lie.

The man who once seemed so open, so transparent with you, now feels like a stranger—someone who might not be as trustworthy as you’d hoped.

Will he choose to protect you and Haru, or will he always put his image, his family name, first?

The doubt gnaws at you, growing with each passing second, until it feels like a weight you can barely carry.

You retreat further, your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of it almost drowning out the murmured conversation from the study.

The light at the end of the hallway seems so far away now, the warmth and safety you’d felt earlier slipping through your fingers like sand.

As you finally turn and make your way back to your bedroom, each step is heavier than the last—a shadow cast on everything you thought you knew.

The warmth of the bed offers you little comfort as you slip under the covers, and your mind replays the conversation over and over again.

As much as you want to believe in him, in the connection you share, the seeds of doubt have been planted.

You're uncertain if you're ready for what's to come—the interview, the public scrutiny, or the complicated feelings that have begun to tangle between you and Satoru.

But throughout all this uncertainty, there is one thing that is without a doubt evident.

You still have a decision to make.

poor y/n can't catch a break...girl is going through it. man i cannot tell you how much i enjoyed writing the coffee shop scene with naoya though, idk it was just so satisfying to write, i literally despise naoya so much lol. and satoru being so clueless with haru 🥲 he sat there for two hours 🤭 he's such a goof. anyways, i really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and i hope you're ready for what's to come! thanks so much for reading 🥺 seriously, your comments make my day. much love 🫶🏻 → onto the next chapterꨄ

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[austinbutlerslovers]

Fight Training

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin has been practicing non stop to learn the art of Kali stick fighting for his upcoming role as Feyd Rautha for Dune Part Two.

Austin is so invested in his craft he comes home physically exhausted and begins a cycle of only cuddles, showers, and sleep with you.

Without sex you begin to lust for him. Your cravings for his body reach fever pitch when he returns home after a training session still sweaty.

This time you refuse to let him shower and sleep instead you make him submit and satisfy both of your sexual urges.

Established relationship girlfriend

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Female in heat• unsuspecting Austin•female sexual aggression• sub Austin•coercive edging on Austin• dirty talk •Oral sex on Austin• breast play•nipple play•clit play•P in V• simultaneous orgasms• cream pie •aftercare

Master List ••• Upcoming List

Thank you for this request. I have a glitch where I can’t post the story with it! But please enjoy 💝

Fight Training

Austin finishes his training with Roger Yuan for the day. It is in preparation for his latest film Dune Part Two. He has been cast to play the villain Feyd Rautha. A bald and menacing character who is a psychotic swordsman.

Austin has learned the art of Kali stick fighting with Roger over the last few months and is in near perfection of the skill. When they practice now instead of sticks they have upgraded to stunt blades.

Austin as usual has been intensely focused and highly determined to get every aspect right. The fighting team of the film began to take notice of Austin’s natural ability within the first week.

Now at the final stage even Roger compliments him “You pick up on the skill masterfully as if you have been doing this for years Austin” He affirms making Austin beam with pride.

On this day in particular Austin perfectly completed the choreography and flawlessly swept kicked his stunt stand in for Timothee Chalamet, who will play the hero Paul Atreides.

Roger stepped in to test his command of the routine for the film and Austin matched his pace perfectly once again.

At the end of the training session Austin still isn’t done practicing. He wants to go over a section with Roger where he presses the blade inches from his own eye.

They get into stance Roger kneeling forward pushing the blade towards Austin’s eye as Austin holds the handle with him and tries to resist being stabbed.

The stunt team gathers around because of how dangerous the move is even with a stunt blade. “You’re controlling how close the blade is going” Roger warns seeing how Austin is allowing the sharp point closer than necessary to his eye.

“Well let me see …” Austin says cutting himself short as the blade tip actually pierces lightly into his orbital socket. The stunt team begins panicked murmuring.

“Okay there it is” Austin says calmly knowing exactly how close the blade can get and corrects himself pressing it away from his eye.

Everyone is on pins and needles that Austin would take such a risk but Austin just laughs looking over at their worried faces “ I was just trying to see” he says through a smile setting them at ease.

The training session concludes after Austin’s last minute request and everyone begins to say their farewells to leave the fight studio.

Roger pats Austin on the back. “You have been non stop training Austin and it shows, even at home you are practicing?” Roger asks to confirm.

“Yes” Austin confirms . “Even at home, every minute I can. My girlfriend really enjoys the show” Austin admits grinning. Roger smiles back to him “Go home to her now, we start filming next week. Soon everyone who watches the movie will enjoy your skill” He says proudly.

Austin gets into his black Audi covered in sweat. He wears a black shirt and matching sweats. His shirt has white and green lettering on it which reads “Tad’s Chicken & dumplings” a restaurant popular in Oregon.

He blasts the AC as he drives home playing death metal to stay in focus for the inherent evil nature of his movie character.

When he arrives to his Los Angeles hills estate he looks forward to rinsing off in his elaborate shower before crashing in exhaustion with you on the couch or the king size bed to rest.

Pheromones

Austin enters the front door as usual but this time you come to hug him which you haven’t done before. He likes to hug you after he’s showered and clean and tries to stop you from getting covered in his sweat. “Baby I’m soaked I worked out so hard today look at me.” He says tugging his damp shirt.

The pheromones emitting from him drive you wild today. All of his muscles are bulging and he is glistening in sweat. His blue eyes flash with excitement to see you and his full lips and cheeks remain flushed pink which is his tell-tale sign he’s worked out too hard.

He finally sees your sexual desire for him as you continue to advance. He tries to avert your intentions away, he wants to shower first and be clean for you. “Baby…” he says with a wary tone as he places his hands out in a gesture to calm you.

“Come here Austin !” You command him smiling at each other as he makes you give chase. He quickly walks backwards through the living room with his arms outstretched keeping you at a distance. “Baby calm down” he says playfully.

He makes quick glances at the path behind him ensuring it’s clear as he walks backwards trying to keep you at bay.

Deep down you know you are going to pounce on him. You can see he is in a weakened state after his extreme training and you can easily over power his physical strength at the opportune moment.

You crave him, he has been busy and tired for days on end. The night before last he cuddled you to sleep. Last night he didn’t have sex with you due to his exhaustion from training. This morning he left you in bed because he woke up too tired. You’ve been without him for far too long.

Now seeing him wet with sweat as he smiles playfully staring into your eyes makes a surge of your pent up sexual desire rise for him. You lunge him just as he backs to the couch making him fall onto it.

You climb his body and attack his mouth first. He whimpers not wanting to give in but he can’t resist you and surrenders into your kisses clutching your head in his hands kissing you in return.

He breaks the kiss and grins staring into your eyes. “Did you miss me baby?” He asks knowingly and you smile in return. “Yes I missed you and I want to reward your for all the hard work you've been doing. I see you fight training in our courtyard everyday and it drives me wild Austin you look so good.” You admit and trail your hand down his shirt to lift the hem. You plunge your hand under the band of his sweats and begin massaging the head of his softened cock.

“Fuck baby!” He chokes out as his body tenses trying to stop the mixed signals of exhaustion and arousal surging through his body.

His head finally falls back into submission for arousal and he relaxes as your hand slowly rubs up and down his thick long soft cock. “I know you’re tired Austin but you deserve a reward.” You say peering down into his softened blue eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he nods yes and gives in to you.

His panting increases as you gently squeeze and stroke his cock until he is semi hard.

You climb on top of him straddling his hips and slowly grind your pussy on his length. “Baby you’re so…hot for me…-you must need my cock in you…badly” he pants out as he grabs your waist.

“Yes Austin I need you so badly you look so good. Im aching to have you inside of me” you respond as you work your hips in a rhythm pressing your pussy against his large cock as it hardens solid.

“Thats it baby …fuck -you’re getting me so hard…I-I’m gonna satisfy you completely… I..I’m gonna make you cum…I’m sorry I’ve ….been so busy.” He pants out.

“That’s exactly…what I want Austin.. I want you to make me cum.” You confess nearly breathless. You place your hands on his chest for leverage and feel the friction of his hardened cock rubbing against your folds intensify beginning to satisfy your pent up sexual urges.

You lightly moan using him to get yourself off and he stares up at you continuing to pant and groan as you grind harder on his cock edging you both.

You stand from his lap when his cock is rock hard. His eyes follow your movements as you kneel between his legs and tug at the band of his sweats. “Baby please let me shower.” He begs worried that he will taste like sweat, he wants his cock clean for you, he wants it to have no taste at all.

But you are persistent, his pheromones smell so sweet it’s driving you insane with lust.

“I want you like this Austin, I want to know what your cock tastes like.” You admit as you lift his shirt trailing your finger tips down his abs.

His six pack tenses showing every muscle as your finger tips reach his pelvic line. You see his hard cock twitch in anticipation through his tenting sweats and you softly squeeze the tip making him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Beg me to suck your sweaty cock Austin” you command and he looks down at you while he lays flat, his eyes are pleading for you not to make him say it.

Your lips curve into a smile you love that he is so clean and perfect he is unable to even say the words.

You trail your hands down to his testis giving them a soft squeeze making his cock twitch a second time as he gasps “…baby please don’t make me say it.“ he begs.

You pull his sweat band lower releasing his large cock. His shaft sways and you hold it straight making him gasp again sensitive from your touch.

You form a fist around his cock and place your mouth above it “beg me” You command him looking into his eyes. He feels the heat of your words on his sensitive tip and restrains from bucking his hips up into your mouth.

You lick your thumb for saliva and swirl it around the tiny hole of his sensitive cock head making him lose his mind. His abs tense and his legs spasm as his hips buck up. “ Please suck my sweaty cock baby please !” he begs loudly making you smile. “As you wish” you tease him.

You lower your mouth on him as much as you can take and moan on his cock from the flavor. He tastes sweet and salty at the same time driving you insane with lust as you begin to drool.

“Do you…...- like it baby?” He pants struggling to form words as you suck him. “Mmhmm” you moan on his cock as your lock eyes with his. He becomes more aroused knowing you enjoy it.

You savor his cock as you suck all the way up releasing your mouth from his tip with a wet pop before diving back down on him and licking your tongue against his shaft in a repeated cycle.

He lays flat just panting and moaning in pleasure at the feeling of your mouth. The way your tongue explores his cock is different from anything you’ve done before and it sends shocks through his entire body feeling like your are trying to suck the flavor right off of him.

His cock twitches already wanting to cum in your mouth. “ fuck baby” he breaths out, and sits up on his elbows to watch what you do that pleasures him so much.

You guide your mouth on his cock bobbing up and down sucking him non stop. His body tenses as his cock pulses ready to cum. “P-please let me…-cum in your pussy baby…” he begs already at his climax. “Please..-let me …-s..satisfy you… I know you need me….” He says breathlessly.

You hold his thighs and lift your mouth from his cock “I need you Austin I want you to cum in me” you admit standing up preparing to ride him.

He sits up on the couch breathing heavier as he shivers from almost cumming in your mouth. He removes his socks and sneakers first then pulls off his damp shirt. He is extremely fit from his strength training for his role as Feyd.

His chest and abs are chiseled to perfection with his once defined arms now fully bulked. He lifts up his hips to pull his sweats and boxers off revealing his muscular legs. His nice thick cock is fully erect in between his toned thighs. Once completely naked he looks up at you to show he is ready.

You smile in satisfaction studying his pretty face and body. His full lips are parted and panting. The pupils in his blue eyes are expanded so wide from arousal they are almost all black.

You step closer standing between his spread muscular thighs and run your hands through his sweaty hair. You press the wet strands on his forehead back into his hairline as he smiles up at you with admiration in his eyes. He is so beautiful.

You plant a kiss on his smiling lips and step back to pull off your top and shorts with your panties. You climb on top of him a second time straddling his hips, this time you are both naked. He holds you around your waist and slowly kisses your mouth. He tastes himself on your tongue and he smiles that you like it.

As you begin to kiss heavier his hands wander up from your waist to cup your full breasts squeezing them together as he flicks your nipples with his thumbs.

He lowers you onto his cock and you both moan in unison as you settle on his base. “Austin you feel so good” you confess having been denied him so long due to his training schedule.

“Baby…you feel so good too… but -I-Im not gonna last long …you sucked me too good” he confesses panting against your neck with his hands on your waist. Feeling your tight pussy on him already pushes him to the verge of an orgasm.

”Make me cum then baby” you command and he immediately latches his mouth on your throat sucking hard and flicking his tongue to mark you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and moan against his ear as you ride his cock. You work your mid back with your hips to feel him even deeper and he praises you with kisses across your neck as you climax.

He parts his legs wider and holds you firm to him as he begins powerfully thrusting his cock back into you. “A-Austin YES!” You moan out loud.

He releases one arm from you and reaches between your bodies as he thrusts. His thumb finds your swollen clit and swirls circles into it as you moan and orgasm hugging him tightly around his neck. “I-I’mcumming Austin!” You cry out. “Yea?.. Me too.” he confirms.

Moans emit from both of your mouths as his cock pulses his warm cum into you. “Fuck!” Austin cries out thrusting faster bouncing you on his cock. He empties all of his cum into you, painting your walls and filling you up before he slows to a stop.

You both breathe heavily and are covered in a light sheen of sweat staring into each others eyes. “I love you” he declares feeling the rush of endorphins from sex. “I love too” you say breathlessly as you rest your forehead to his. You come down together in the intimate moment.

He holds the nape of your neck planting kisses on your lips as he guides his other hand to your waist. He helps you lift from his lap, sliding his cock out of you.

He holds you close as you stand in front of him while he sits on the couch. His ear is pressed to your chest as his hands caress your back. “I missed us having sex, thank you for making me realize” he says as you lovingly stroke through his wet sweaty hair. “You work so hard Austin you forget to take care of yourself sometimes” you say lovingly.

After a moment of him affectionately holding you close you break the silence “We should shower together Austin” you say smiling knowing what he wants to do next.

He looks up at you grinning with his eyes full of elation. He presses a firm kiss between your breasts and responds “finally”making you both laugh.

💙🩵End 🩵💙

Mr. Butlers Baby Sitter Part 3 TBA (next sorry for the delay) Mr.Butlers Babysitter

🏷️ The Always Tag List ♥️ (for the new smut fics)

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[pedriscroquettes]

𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐓𝐎 ✵ ENZO VOGRINCIC & FELIPE OTAÑO

❛𝔰𝔞𝔟𝔢 𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔶 𝔰𝔲 𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔞 𝔢𝔫 𝔩𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔪𝔞❜ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

ׂ╰┈➤ warnings. threesome, m!oral, p in v, just dirty. 18+

felipe scrolls through your shared messages looking for the pictures you sent him of the guys. enzo waits patiently as his friend searches for the pictures you took of them at a restaurant to celebrate fran’s birthday. meanwhile you’re at home trying to find the perfect angle to show off the black laced lingerie you had just purchased. it’s almost comical how many pictures you take trying to take the perfect one to send to your boyfriend. you decide on sending the one that shows off the necklace felipe bought you with your initial on it.

as your boyfriend continues searching for the pictures his phone automatically slides down to the message you just sent him. his reaction time is too slow and soon your revealing picture takes up half of the screen. as soon as enzo realizes what you just sent felipe he quickly moves away from his costar trying to hide how his cheeks grow warm. he coughs as he tries to regain his posture. he looks at felipe expecting him to either be mad or embarrassed but instead he’s met with a smirk.

“i think i’m gonna leave.” enzo says pretending he didn’t see anything.

“enzo. this is your apartment.” felipe laughs.

there’s a small pause between them as enzo mentally curses at himself. the image you had sent was still replaying in his brain even though he had only seen it for about ten seconds. he hated how attracted he was to you considering you were dating his friend.

“enzo, do you think my girlfriend is hot?” the brunette asks him.

“she’s your girlfriend-” enzo starts trying his hardest to not stutter.

“yes she is but that’s not what i asked you.” felipe scoffs. “you can be honest. i won’t be mad.”

“yes.” the uruguayan answers barely above a whisper but felipe hears him.

enzo thinks back to the first time he saw you. it’d been at rehearsals during preproduction and he had been so happy thinking that you’d be apart of the cast. but as soon as he saw the way felipe shoved his tongue down your throat during breaks he had left you alone. unfortunately for him that picture had only brought back his crush.

“she thinks you’re hot too. she’s always looking at photos of you.” felipe mentions as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “you should come over on friday.”

enzo freezes at the last sentence not believing what he was hearing. was your boyfriend offering a night with you? he was taken aback.

“is she on board?” is all he mutters.

“she’s the one who asked.” and that’s all it takes for enzo to agree.

you let out a high pitched sigh as you’re kissed on either side of your neck. enzo nipping at your skin from the left side while your boyfriend leaves a trail of kisses on your right side. your hand instinctively finds it’s way to your boyfriend’s hair pulling him closer and encouraging him to mark you up. you bite your lip holding back a moan as he leaves hickeys on your neck.

“fuck. fuck. fuck.” you mutter as the two of them take off their shirts.

you step in front of your boyfriend kissing him as you tease the hem of his shorts. his kisses are wet showing he excited he is. you pull away kneeling in front of him your hands already condition to pull his shorts and briefs down. enzo can’t help but stare at the scene in front of him, the scene in itself turning him on more than it should. you spit into your palm making sure to get enough for his length. you don’t waste time teasing him and soon enough you’re licking from the base to the tip to prepare him. you carefully take him into your mouth, his hands pulling your hair into a ponytail as he fucks your throat.

you gag on his dick as he repeatedly hits the back of your throat. you grow wetter as his groans grow increasingly louder at the way you take him. you wrap your hands around what you can’t fit into your mouth stimulating him. you look up at him seeing how his face scrunches as you pleasure him. you make sure to lick the tip as well to tease him further. from the corner of your eye you spot enzo touching himself and wonder if he was bigger or not. you moan at the thought causing vibrations for your boyfriend.

“fuck i’m close.” he groans as you push him closer to the edge. “let me cum on your boobs.”

felipe pulls out of your mouth as he feels his high approaching. you have your tits on full display as he jerks himself off to reach his climax. he moans loudly as he coats you with his cum. white liquid covers your boobs as he tries to recover from his high. he leans down pulling you into a passionate kiss. you moan at the contact not believing how dirty he was. he leaves for a minute and comes back with a rag to clean you up.

“enzo’s all yours.” he smirks at you as he steps into the corner.

“enzo” you whine urging him to come closer to you. he does as you want and you push him on the edge of the bed straddling him in the process.

he kisses you first causing you to moan out at the action. his hand cups your jaw allowing him to kiss you deeper wanting to pull you in as close as possible. you grow desperate bucking your hips against his trying to get off to any sort of friction. he laughs at that, his laugh sending shockwaves through your body. he moves your skirt above your waist making sure to have access to your throbbing core. he brings a finger down to your panties feeling the wet patch on them groaning at the feeling.

“fuck you’re so wet.” he murmurs as he feels you up.

“just fuck me enzo please.” you beg as he moves your panties to the side.

“i don’t have a condom.” he groans.

“just pull out.” you say impatiently just wanting to fuck him already.

he brings his tip to your core lining himself up with your hole. you shiver at the feeling of it. your boyfriend is stunned by the scene in front of him and how he’s more turned on than he should be. enzo slowly enters you as he decides you’re ready and you whine at the intrusion. he bottoms out as you dig your fingers into his arms trying to get used to his size. your right walls squeeze him as he tries to find a rhythm. you finally sink down on him and moan at the new feeling of his dick inside you.

he pulls you down for another kiss trying to distract you from his first couple of thrusts. but soon enough you feel him so deep inside of you, you can’t help but scream out in pleasure as you take him in. his groans as he desperately fucks you only encourage you to bounce on him. you hold your hair up with one hand as the other holds onto his chest to keep up with his thrusts. the pace goes from romantic to erratic in a matter of minutes and you can’t hold yourself anymore. you feel your orgasm building as he repeatedly fucks you. you bring one of your hands down to your belly feeling as he fucks up into you.

“enzo i’m so close.” you gasp as he hits a new angle.

he acknowledges your incoming orgasm and brings one of his hands to your core. he rubs your clit helping the stimulation and impending orgasm. you don’t last very long and practically whine as you cum around him. your head lays against his chest as you see stars. he flinches at the contact quickly pulling out of you as he feels his high approaching. the loss of contact makes you sigh. it doesn’t take long for him to reach his orgasm as well and your stomach is soon coated with his release. you lay down next to him trying to catch your breathe. the events that just happened hadn’t registered in your mind but he had fucked your brains out and now you were dumbfounded.

you hear a click spotting your boyfriend next to the bed with a polaroid in his hand. he takes the picture shaking it handing it to enzo as the boy next to you tries to recover his breathing. his body is all sweaty and if you weren’t already tired you’d have another go at him.

“now you have a picture of her. use it whenever you want.” your boyfriend says with a straight face.

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: secret relationship, clothed fingering, teasing, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After another victory for the Giants, Ken has only one thing on his mind—celebrating with you, away from the prying eyes of his teammates and your father.

You pulled your jacket tighter against the cool night air, the chill biting your skin as your gaze drifted one the now-empty field. The faint echo of cheering fans still hung in the air after Yomiuri Giants had won the game, though the excitement had long passed.

From up here in the nosebleeds, the rest of the world seemed distant, like you were in your own bubble. You always preferred the solitude after a game.

It was the perfect place to wind down from the excitement. Though the altitude left you shivering a little, the peace was always worth it.

The sound of footsteps climbing the stairs made you turn, and there he was— Ken. He wore the playful grin he only gave you. The kind that promised trouble, yet made your heart quicken.

Each step brought him closer, his broad figure cutting though the dim light. You couldn’t help but feel your breath catch as he quickened his pace, his smile never faltered.

“Thought you could hide from me?” Ken teased, the star player who had taken the Giants by storm.

He slid into the seat next to you with the ease of someone who he knew was wanted, his arm casually resting along the back of your chair to pull you closer. “Had to ditch a few reporters to get here.”

You laughed softly, but the revelation of him going out of his way to find you sent a thrill in your chest. He always found you, no matter how high or far you tried to distant yourself.

“I wouldn’t say hiding,” you replied, leaning closer to him.

“No? Just enjoying a nice quiet spot all alone, huh?” He raised a brow. You always liked keeping him on his toes, challenging him to see if he’d chase up to you and he always did, every time.

“Well…it is a nice view,” you remarked, your voice carrying a matter-of-fact tone before your eyes fixed on the empty pitch below.

Only moments ago, thousands of eyes had been glued to the field, hearts pounding in sync and riding the thill of anticipation. The roar of crowds as the last bat swung through the air, sealing the games fate, still reverberating in your mind.

The lights had dimmed now, casting the entire stadium in shadows. Despite the stillness, the view was still breathtaking. From this height, you could see every seat, each one now vacant. The vastness of it felt both daunting and exhilarating.

You could feel Ken watching you quietly, seemingly admiring the way your eyes took it all in. It was like the gears that was turning in your head was showing in your awe-struck expression.

“You’re right,” he finally agreed, a hint of sincerity in his voice. “It is a nice view.”

“How do people even watch the games from up here?” The pitch from your view looked so small, almost insignificant— it was hard to believe that anyone could see the players or follow then game from here.

Ken chuckled at your genuine curiosity, a sound that echoed in your chest. “Most people don’t,” he answered, glancing over the empty stands. “Most people want to be down there, cheering with the rest of the crowd. But I prefer it up here.”

You held onto the back of the seat that was in front of you, leaning over slightly as the cool night brushed against your face. The wind made the tip of your nose and fingers feel colder until they were almost numb. “It’s colder up here too…”

“Yeah it is…you’re not too cold are you?” he asked with genuine concern.

He shifted besides you, his body turning just enough that you could feel his warmth. You hesitated for a second. If you said yes, he’d probably pull you into his arms, sharing his warmth with you, since you already had a jacket.

But the fear of prying eyes— especially from your father— made you shake your head.

“You know…” you started, drawing in another deep breath of the cold air. “I think watching the game from down there would be too much as well. Maybe the middle…that’s where the sweet spot is.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?” he leaned across his seat until he was close enough for his shoulders to touch yours. “You never really said why you were up here,”

Ken waited for you to response. He could probably sense that there was more to your thoughts than just a discussion about optimal view locations.

You let out a sigh before you answered. “I just wanted to be away from the noise. No one comes up here after the game.”

Ken didn’t say anything at first, but from the look in his eyes, you knew he understood. He had his own way of seeking refuge from the chaotic world that surrounded him, especially as a star player.

It was something you both shared in experience, the unspoken need to escape.

“I know what you mean…the crowd gets a bit much sometimes.”

You turned to face him fully, you tone dropped into something more serious, almost urgent. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the team down there?” you asked. “Dad’s probably gonna be looking for you…”

Your father— the head coach of the Yomiuri Giants— had always been strict about sticking to schedule, especially after a win. His players were supposed to be attending the post-game meetings, meeting interviews, or just sticking close for team celebrations. Something Ken wasn’t the best at keeping at.

There were a lot of benefits being the daughter the coach. You had special access and credentials which allowed you into the stadium without a ticket, especially for home games.

It also allowed you access to areas that were off-limits to regular fans, like locker rooms and training areas. That was how you got close with Ken Sato— but it was more him trying to get close to you initially.

Ken rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Probably.” he admitted. “But I wanted to see you instead.”

You didn’t repond right away, but your eyes were drawn to the way the wind played with his hair, tousling it slightly.

Something about the sight made a sudden urge to touch him wash over you. Before you could stop yourself, your fingers reached out, brushing some of the locks back.

Ken leaned into your touch, his eyes closed for a brief moment as your fingers combed through the soft strands.

“Your hairs getting messy,” you remarked, as if that wasn’t obvious already. Though the words came out more as an excuse to keep touching him, feeling his scalp beneath your fingertips. Ken’s eyes fluttered open again.

“I guess it is, huh?” He reached up, gently catching your wrist in his hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You like it messy?”

As you and Ken continued to enjoy the quiet moment, a sudden noise from below snapped you out of your reverie. Footsteps echoed up the stairs, sharp against the hollow metal.

“Someone’s coming—” you whispered urgently, your stomach almost lurching out of your throat. Ken stiffened besides you, instantly alert, his sharp gaze scanned the area.

The footsteps grew louder, the sound bouncing off the empty space, making it harder to tell where it was coming from or how close they were.

The pitch had been emptied out long ago, and you weren’t sure who would still be wandering around. Whoever was coming didn’t seem like a fan, but you couldn’t take the chances.

“Come on,” Ken grabbed your hand and pulled you swiftly to your feet.

You followed him, barely keeping up with his long stride. He moved with a kind of confidence he always had, in every moment like this— sneaking away like you were fugitives.

His grip was firm, steadying, as he led you between the tight rows of bleachers, your foot steps muted on the metal..

It was cramped, the metal beams and tight corners forced you closer together. The faint smell of dirt and grass filled your senses, mixed with the scent of steel and old concessions. The footsteps grew louder now as you pressed yourself against Ken.

Ken lowered himself to the ground, pulling you with him until you were sitting on his lap, pressed against him. He wrapped his arms around your waist as your legs draped across his. You could feel his grip around your tightening, silently communicating for you to remain quiet.

The person was very close to where you two were hidden— only a few more steps and they would catch the both of you huddled together. You just hoped it wasn’t your Dad looking for Ken.

You tried to keep yourself steady but with him being this close, it was getting increasingly difficult to focus on anything but the fact that you were on his lap. Without thinking, a soft sound escaped your lips.

“Hmm…”

Ken’s grip on you tightened, and he shot you a sharp, warning look. His eyes flickered to your lips. For a moment, you thought he might cover your mouth with his hand— something you weren’t entirely opposed to.

You didn’t expect what came next— a subtle movement of his hand, slipping between your thighs, using his fingers to put more pressure.

The sudden sensation sent a shiver down your spine. You instinctively clamped your legs together, trapping his hand between them, his fingers squished against your core.

But that only added to his tryst. You felt him curl his fingers to reach your clothes folds, making sure to focus his attention on the one spot that he knew would drive you to the edge.

You shot him an annoyed whisper, “What are you doing?” Though the warmth that pooled in your core told you that you already knew.

Ken didn’t respond with words. Instead, he curled his fingers again, his eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint. You bit your lip, the temptation to let out a sound was getting harder to resist.

Out of impulse, you rolled your hips to get more friction, grinding against his fingers. You felt a hum of approval vibrate from his through as you squirmed in his grasp.

The sounds of the footsteps gradually faded, signaling the coast was clear. But all you could focus on was Ken’s hand, still dangerous close to your sensitive spot.

“Ken—” you hissed before letting out a moan.

“Yeah?” he inquired, feigning innocence, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to you. His fingers still traced slow, teasing circles over your core, pressed against the fabric of your pants just enough to send sparks through your body.

You could feel the damp heat pooling between your legs, and you knew he could too. The friction, even through the fabric, was enough to make your pulse quicken.

Your walls were starting to clenched onto nothing, desperately for some friction.

“What if dad catches us?” You breathed.

“Does your old man have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to catching people?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear before he nipped lightly.

“Well no…but it’s not like he’s left the stadium entirely,” you tried to grasp onto some logic, though it slipped further away with each ministry from Ken’s fingers.

Ken, however, seemed unphased by the risks. His focus was entirely on you, as he continued to drag out your pleasures and draw out those tortuously slow circles against you.

From where he sat, his head tilted slightly forward, his eyes reflecting his amusement. It was maddening how calm he was while your mind was spinning.

You suddenly felt something poking under you on his lap. Kenji let out a low grunt at the unexpected contact.

You could tell his growing arousal was starting to get uncomfortable, especially with you over his lap. But you didn’t want to continue anything with the position you were in. You were still out in the open.

“Can we go somewhere more private for this?”

Ken glanced up over the bleachers, his eyes narrowing as if calculating all the places they could sneak off to without anyone noticing. His jaws clenched slightly in thought, as you shifted on his lap.

“And where exactly did you have in mind?” His voice was low and deliberate now, as he continued surveying the area.

You shrugged, trying to steady your nerves. “I don’t know…you know this place more than I do.”

Ken hummed softly, still in deep thought as his eyes traced the path around the stadium, searching for a spot that was secluded enough.

His expression was hard to read, but you would feel tension in his posture, his body weighing each option carefully.

A few agonising seconds later, he shifted his hold on you, wrapping one arm under your thighs with ease and carefully scoop you up from his lap. His hold was firm yet gentle, a subtle protectiveness as he rose to his feet.

As he started down the stairs from the nosebleeds, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck before glancing over your shoulder.

The stadium still echoed with distant sounds of lingering crowds celebrating the Giants’ victory. Everyone was too caught up in the post-game festivities to notice the two of you.

“Where are we going again?” you asked in a hushed voice.

He didn’t answer immediately, his pace quickening as he approached a more secluded hallway. He continued towards the locker rooms and maintenance areas.

His eyes darted around, making sure no one was near, before he answered, “You’ll see.”

You could physically feel your heart hammering in your rib cage, the thrill of secrecy swirled with the fear of getting caught.

His hand reached for the doorknob of the supply closet, and with one quick glance over his shoulder, he slipped inside, closing the door with a soft click. He gently set you down on your feet before flickering the light switch.

The room was cramped with shelves lined with cleaning supplies, boxes stacked haphazardly in the corners.

The air felt stale with the lingering scent of detergent in the air, and the light barely filtered through the high windows.

“Seriously?” you looked back at Ken incredulously, brows arched. A wry smile on your lips as you glanced around the tiny room.

Ken chuckled at your expression, amused by the situation you both were in. His broach shoulders brushed against a shelf as he closed the gap between the two of you.

His playful grin softened as his eyes met yours. “Oh don’t give me that look,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you. “At least it’s a lot more private than where we were earlier.”

You sighed softly, knowing he had a point, but there was still a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. Something about the risks made it hard to fully enjoy the moment with Ken.

The room felt smaller with each passing second, the close proximity becoming more intimate. You could still catch the faint sounds of the crowd outside, a reminder that everything was still going on and they were dangerously close.

“Sure…” you murmured cautiously, your eyes darted at the door. “But what if the janitor comes in?”

“Won't happen,” he responded simply, the calm certainty brushed away your worries by a fraction.

He wasted no time to press you against the wall firmly. His taller frame caged you, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

The atmosphere between the two of you was charged with exhilaration, the sounds of your breathing filled your ears.

You met his gaze as his figure loomed over you, casting a shadow that swallowed you whole.

He dipped his head next to your ear with his voice dropping an octave, making you shiver. “Now stop worrying and just relax.”

You knew he was right, there was no point worrying too much and letting your anxiety steal this moment— this rare, stolen slice of time when you could finally be alone with him.

You chewed on your lower lip, your mind torn between the fear of getting caught and the magnetic pull drawing you to him “Just hope dad doesn’t try looking for you—“

He silenced you with a kiss, cutting off your sentence in a way that left no room for argument— literally. The warmth radiating from his body enveloped you, his lips moved against yours with ease.

You could taste the lingering buzz of the game— the post victory high that still surrounded him. The adrenaline was still crackling between the two of you.

You melted into him, your worried momentary fading, replaced by the urge of being close to him. His presence was consuming, making it easier to forget everything outside the small, cramped room.

Your hands found their way to his jersey, gripping onto the fabric. The way his mouth moved against you— soft yet relentless— made it impossible to keep yourself grounded.

After a moment, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath. Your lips were still tingling from the kiss. “Don’t you have a press conference tonight?”

“Relax, you worry wart,” Ken responded, his lips tugging into a teasing smile that you couldn’t resist. “The conference isn't until a few hours, so we have plenty of alone time together.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. Ken always had a way of making your worries seem distant, insignificant, even when you were tucked away in a cramped supply closet.

His presence was always intoxicating— every touch, and eye contact, set your nerves on fire that fell in the pit of your gut.

Without warning, Kenji spun you around so that your back was now pressed against the bare wall. He easily maneuvered your legs apart with his knee, slotting himself in between your thighs with firm and strong movements.

The sudden shift left you stunned, the heat from his body seeped through your skin, clouding your focus and pulling you deeper into the moment.

Every inch of space between the two of you was gone, leaving you hyper aware of his strong hold on your waist.

His grip tightened as you pulled you even closer, your back pressed against his chest. His warmth made it nearly impossible to focus on anything other than his touch.

Your bodies fit together, perfectly aligned. You could feel his hard on pressing against your rear— you stiffened as he grinded himself slowly.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. About you.”

You felt a shiver through your body at the confession. You couldn’t tell if the heat you felt was from his body or the pool in your core.

“Ken…” his name left your lips in a soft gasp, hovering somewhere between urging him on or telling him to keep quiet.

You weren’t sure which one you wanted more, your judgment slowly slipping away like vapor.

His hands found their way to the line of your pants before slowly pulling them down, each second that passed was antagonising.

You heard his own clothes shuffling, amplified in the silence between the two of you, before he leaned you forward, giving him better access to your drenched cunt.

One of your hands was held by the wrist behind your back while the other gripped onto the cold pipe that lined the wall. You felt him roll his hip to rub his hardened dick against your exposed folds, taunting you.

“You know…” he muttered. “I still haven’t gotten a reward for winning the game earlier, I’m still feeling a little unsatisfied after what happened behind the bleachers.”

Before you could retaliate to his comment, the words caught in your throat as he pushed his tip inside. He snickered lowly when he heard your gasp, his touch setting your senses on fire.

He pushed himself further until he finally bottomed up inside of you, your silky walls pulling him eagerly. You felt the suction of your walls as he dragged himself out before slamming his hips against you again.

You tightened your grip on the cold metal pipe above you, desperate for something to anchor yourself. It was getting harder to keep your balance as you felt your knees weaken under the intensity of his movement.

His thrusts started off slow and deliberate, getting accustomed to the feel of you around him. Each delicious friction sent a jolt of bliss through your core.

You bit down on your lower lip, hard enough that your canines pressed into the soft flesh, stifling the sounds threatening to erupt from your throat.

The tension that was coiling inside you was unbearable, and the last thing you wanted was for anyone passing by to hear what was happening behind these walls.

A fleeting hope passed your mind. Please let the hallways be empty right now. Each second became harder to stay quiet.

Ken’s voice cuts through your haze, low and rough. “Don’t hold back now,” he urged. “I wanna hear every sound, baby, let me hear you.”

The last part was punctured by a sharp thrust from his hip. You let out a startled moan when he changed his pace, reaching deeper in a more sporadic rhythm.

A low moan rumbled out from deep within his chest as he kept moving. You could sense that he was already nearing the edge, his breath turning more and more laboured like yours with each pump from his hips.

“Can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to see this,” Ken whispered into your ear, the pride in his voice was unmistakable as he kept milking more moans out of you.

His words echoed in your head, sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins. No one would believe this. The thought of you being caged beneath the star player, cramped in a supply closet, felt thrilling and scandalous.

Yet here you were.

As his touch lingered over you, a sudden realisation dawned on you. With his charm and status, Ken could have anyone he wanted.

He was a star— admired and untouchable in the eyes of the public. And yet, in his private moments, he chose to be with you.

You felt him press further into you, the weight of this lewd secret shared between you both.

You weren’t usually this reckless. With your father being a coach, you had an image to uphold— one of control and discipline.

But something about Ken made you forget about all that. His magnetic presence, his boldness, it all made you fall into his temptations without looking back.

His hand released from your wrist, buried through your hair to tug it upwards with enough force to make you arch into him. Your body instinctively leaned into his pull.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, and for a brief moment, everything faded. His mouth hung slightly open, breath uneven and shallow, his hair falling messily over his forehead— a few locks swished over his forehead as he kept thrusting forward.

“Come for me—” you said between wavering moans. You held your gaze at him, emphasising your words.

You could feel the effect your words had on him as his thrusts became sloppy and his grip on you tightened, afraid that you'd slip away.

Finally, he fell apart as his orgasm washed over him in waves. His release pulsated inside you, your knees buckled from the sheer hell bent force of his cum reaching every crevice.

Your legs twitched as you could feel yourself greedily taking his release. Ken pulled out slowly, but kept his arms firm around you.

The room felt stuffy now, filled with the sound of your shared, laboured breaths. Your grip on the pipe loosened, your arms falling limply to your sides and the tension melted away.

“You okay?” Ken asked in a low tone, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace settling between the two of you.

You turned your body, your chest heaving, your lungs greedily pulling air in. After a few breaths, you swallow to moisturise your dry throat from the breathless moans from earlier.

Finally, you found your voice.

“Yeah…” you replied, your voice a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction. “That was…hot.”

The buzz of the intensity of what just happened still hummed in your bones, lingering like an aftershock, making it hard to fully come down from the high of the moment.

“I guess hiding under the bleachers wasn’t a bad idea then,” Ken’s lips curled into a playful grin. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer, and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before drawing his lips near your ear. “You handled that so well, I couldn’t stop watching you,”

His praise went through your chest and straight to your heart, with your stomach fluttering. There was something about hearing him say that, in that tone, that felt both flattering and intimate— like a side of Ken he rarely showed.

It made you feel more drawn to him.

“Yeah…it was beyond hot. I still can’t believe we did that.” you leaned into his chest, your fingers tracing circles on his back.

Ken chuckled, his chest rumbled beneath you. “Can’t believe we pulled that off without getting caught.”

You looked back up at him and held his gaze. His eyes reflected the lingering mischief and excitement from earlier. But beneath that, you could see the genuine affection in his expression, something deeper than the thrill of the moment.

You scoffed, flicking his nose playfully before you spoke. “Don’t get too cocky. We still need to get out of here without anyone seeing us.”

Ken grinned, leaning in for one last kiss before releasing his embrace. “Think you can be quiet this time?”

“We’ll see.”

You shifted in your spot, fumbling to put your clothes back on while Ken sorted himself out. Once he gave you the signal that the coast was clear, you stepped out of the closet, side by side, into the brightly lit hallway.

The fluorescent lighting overhead made you squint, snapping you both back into reality.

Just as you felt the relief of safety sinking in, a sudden squeak of shoes echoed on the concrete floor. The sound of footsteps grew louder.

Ken stiffened, his hand immediately finding yours as he quickly pulled you down a different corridor. The adrenaline from earlier spiked again as you both continued to close in to the end of the halls.

He came to a halt just before another turn, his body slightly blocking yours as he peered around the corner. You saw his shoulders relaxed before he gave you a playful nudge. “Let’s not push out luck.”

Without wasting any time, he led you toward a back exit of the stadium. The air outside hit you like a cool breeze of relief, clearing the tightness in your gut.

The contrast between the cramped heated, space and the open air felt freeing. For a moment, the rush of the whole situation, being with Ken in these moments felt so right— like your own private world, hidden from everyone else.

But as you neared the lot, you knew reality was waiting just beyond.

~

It was close to 11 PM by the time you arrived back home. The house was steeped in a quiet stillness, nothing out of the ordinary. But the atmosphere felt thick and uncomfortable, as if the walls were aware of something you were trying to hide.

The only sign that anyone was awake was the low hum of the TV filtered down the hallway. The faint glow from the screen spilled out from the living room, cutting through the dimness in the house.

Your pulse throbbed in your ear with each step you took and the soft creak of the floorboards amplified in the silence.

As you closed in to the doorway, you spotted your father in the living room. He sat hunched in his usual spot on the couch, still in his coach’s uniform.

The harsh light from the TV illuminated his face, casting shadows that exaggerated the furrow of his brow. His lips were pressed into a hard line— a clear hint that something had pissed off.

He hadn’t acknowledged you, but you knew he was aware of your presence. He never missed a thing. You crossed the room until you were an arms length away from him.

“Finally decided to come home, huh?” His gravelly voice startled you.

You straightened up, adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Yeah…sorry, I didn’t realise how late it was.” You forced a casual tone.

His face didn’t falter and it was hard to tell what was going through his head at that moment.

“Next time, maybe try and keep an eye on the clock,” he muttered. “Can’t have you wondering in at this hours.”

You fiddled with the strap of your bag again. The soreness between your legs from earlier was still fresh. The memory of your time with Ken still clung to you, making it harder to meet your father’s gaze.

“I know Dad. It won’t happen again,” you spoke quietly.

He grunted in response, eyes never leaving the TV. “You eat yet?”

Your mouth went dry. How were you supposed to answer that? The truth was, you did eat, but it was with Ken after sneaking out of the supply closet— something you definitely couldn’t bring up.

You let out a breath and chose your words carefully. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask you for details.

“Yeah, I grabbed something at a cafe.” You kept your voice steady, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details. “You?”

“Lost my appetite after watching that idiot on TV.” He finally glanced at you, eyes narrowed slightly. “Have you seen Sato’s latest stunt at the press conference?”

You felt goosebumps from the back of your neck at the mention of Ken’s name. Suddenly you were reminded of the dull ache between your legs again.

But what mounted your anxiety was hearing the annoyance in your dad’s voice as he spoke about him.

You fought to keep your expression neutral. “Uhm no, I wasn’t really paying attention. What happened?”

“Same old nonsense,” he growled. “Arrogant, cocky…talking like he owns the damn team. He might be good on the field, but that attitude’s going to cost him.”

The temper was starting to flare in his tone with each word he uttered, and it made your skin crawl. You knew your dad never had the best relationship with Ken, especially with his style of playing.

Your eyes drifted to the screen. Ken’s face filled the TV, his posture relaxed, almost too casual.

You could tell he wasn’t interested in questions being thrown at him, answering the same blasé demeanor that drove your dad crazy.

But you knew better. Ken didn’t care for interviews or reporters probing his life. Was he thinking about you during the press conference, as much as you were thinking about him now?

Your heart raced at the thought. His cockiness, the same confidence you’d seen up close in the cramped supply closet, seemed to shine through even more now.

Had being with you given him that edge?

You quickly pulled your attention back to the conversation, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, “Yeah…that sounds like him.”

Deep down, despite his cockiness, you always found his confidence a bit attractive. But it often strained his relationships with his teammates, disrupting the team’s unity.

He had so much potential, but part of you wished he could tone it down and find balance. Maybe then, your father would see him in the same light that you did.

“He needs to learn some respect, or someone’s gonna knock some into him.”

You swallowed hard, sensing the growing tension in the room.

“Maybe he’ll figure it out eventually.” You quickly steered the conversation away from Ken before your father picked up on anything. “Anyway, I’m really tired. I think I’ll head to bed.”

He finally turned his full attention to you, his eyes scanning your face for a moment longer than necessary. You forced yourself to stand still and lock in, resisting the urge to fiddle with your bag under his scrutiny.

Coach turned to look at you, his eyes boring yours for a while before you were starting to feel an itch to leave the room.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, he let out a grunt and turned to the screen. “Right. Get some rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You were a bit surprised that he dropped the conversation so quickly.

For a moment, you expected him to continue lecturing you about being late, especially since he was already upset when you walked in. But you took this opportunity to leave without another second thought.

“Goodnight Dad,” you left the room briskly.

“Night,” he called back, but by then you were already out of the room, escaping to the safety of your bedroom.

The thought of texting Ken crossed your mind for a moment, but you decided against it. You focused on taking a shower and getting ready for bed instead.

You’d ask him in the morning about the press conference.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @deartulantula @nina-from-317 @luluxx118 @despacito-uwu16

@gyusimp @miguel-ohara-wifey @ichkyu

We’re off to a strong start I think, but can I get a ‘you son of a bitch, I’m down’ (just humour me for a sec 💀) in the comments if we should have more of this Coach’s Daughter AU (CD for short?)

This trope is so cute yet so scandalous and has so much potential

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Three

Summary:

Astarion surprises you by inviting you to his place... for a real date? The evening doesn't go as expected when you uncover the darkness in his past.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.4k Tags/Warnings: mentions of Astarion's past, vampire bites, blood drinking, blow job, p in v sex, fluff with a very small side of angst, Shadowheart being a bit of a manic pixie dream best friend

Since y'all are insistent on encouraging my worst tendencies, here, have the longest single thing I've ever written. I think about Professor Astarion at all waking (and sleeping at this point) hours. I have other things planned, I will eventually write something else, I promise. But also... this one is now becoming a full-fledged multi-chapter fic. I'm half-considering rewriting the first few chapters so it's in third-person? I don't know though, let me know what you think.

H1ghVoltage and Zaria were both invaluable betas for this one, I appreciate you both so much. And Zaria for always providing the most perfect screenshots at the drop of a hat. This literally would not exist without you.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Excuse me? The one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she tucks her feet underneath her, holding up her wine glass so it doesn’t spill. The two of you met while moving into adjacent apartments a few years prior; it turned out you had both just been hired at the university, her at the Divinity School and you at the College of Arts and Sciences. Since then you’ve become fast friends, and you’re finally filling her in on all of the details of the whirlwind that has been the past few days. You hide your chagrin behind a sip of wine.

“Okay, listen, yes, but hear me out. He looks like this.” You hold out your phone and show her the English department faculty page.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. “Okay, you didn’t tell me that.” 

“I think I was in denial,” you whine as you drop your head onto the couch cushion. “I focused on how much of an asshole he is to distract me from how hot he is.”

“And now? Will you see him again?” She tosses your phone at your feet and you lift your gaze.

“I don’t know? He made a joke about having sex in my office but I don’t think he actually meant it.” You cast a sidelong glance at Shadowheart, trying to gauge her expression.

“Scandalous,” she smiles into the rim of her glass before taking a long sip. You pick up your phone, looking at his portrait. It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

You drop your phone again and angrily sip at your wine, letting the dry red flood over your tongue and coat the inside of your mouth. You notice Shadowheart eyeing you suspiciously.

“Do you want to?” she asks, and you put your glass onto the coffee table and curl your knees into your chest further.

“I… I don’t know? Like obviously the sex is good. Really good,” you add under your breath, and Shadowheart looks at you salaciously as your cheeks flush. “But whenever he says more than five words I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Is that really how you feel, or have you just convinced yourself to feel that way?” she carefully asks. You glare at her, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. You drop your less-than-menacing expression and cover your face in your hands. You let out an exasperated sigh before suddenly gasping and looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Nine hells, did I tell you what else happened? At least one student knows. I saw her coming out of his office and she made some comment about ‘We all see how you look at him.’” You flop onto your side, burying your face in the couch cushion once again.

“Well, I suppose that answers your question, at least,” Shadowheart says reassuringly, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean if you like him enough that your students are noticing, then you have to pursue him. The worst that’ll happen is you’ll break up and you can go back to hating him.” She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described a literal nightmare.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” you gape at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” she grins at you, and her teeth are tinged purple from the wine. You kick your foot out at her.

“Man, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” you tease and she groans.

“Listen, you just told me that you got railed twice in three days, it’s not that good out here for most of us.” Now it’s her turn to cover her face and you laugh. You pick up your wine and stretch your legs out to nudge Shadowheart’s calf.

“Who knows, maybe there’s some hot chick in the English department that he can hook you up with.” She pushes your leg back and rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

You have no idea what to expect when you inevitably run into Astarion the next day. You're tempted to just work from home since you don’t have any classes, but you have another damn season selection committee meeting that you can't miss, and you'd rather be around for students to drop in if they need to. 

You're on your way to the bathroom at the end of the day when you finally see him. You almost don't, at first, since you're looking down at your phone and you stop short of barrelling into him. You lock eyes and smile politely, then step to your left just as he steps to his right. You two share an awkward laugh just as it happens again in the opposite direction. After another few seconds of uncomfortable shuffling, he takes you by your shoulders and moves you to the side. You give him a thankful grin and quickly move past, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks and the way your arms tingle where he touched you.

You get to the bathroom and close the door behind you, leaning against it to brace yourself. Your stomach is roiling, though whether it was from the embarrassment, the insatiable lust, or something else entirely, you can't quite tell. You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cool water. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to will yourself into stoicism. It's a losing battle as the image of him having you bent over the sink pops into your mind. You shake your head, trying to think of something else, but that only makes it worse.

He’s pressed you up against the bathroom door and he's got your wrists pinned together above your head.

No, stop, you scold yourself. But the second you banish that image another one comes flooding in, your leg draped over his shoulder as he’s lightly sucking your clit with his fingers curled inside you.

You're dizzy with the mental image and you try to wrest it from your mind. You focus on the visual stimuli around you, the white tile, the fluorescent lights, the small blue stain beneath the soap dispenser. Eventually you find yourself back in your body and you massage your temples, trying to focus. 

Your head is still reeling slightly as you make your way back to your office. You unlock the door, completely unaware of his presence behind you until you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. You yelp and in an instant he’s towering over you with your back up against the wall. 

“Almighty gods, Astarion,” you swear breathlessly, your heart pounding more from the scare than the proximity for once. The proximity doesn’t help, however, when he tilts your chin with his knuckle and smiles devilishly. 

“Come to my place, let me cook you dinner,” he purrs, and your breath quickens. But when his words finally break through the seductive tone, something in your brain stops.

“Wait, cook? Can you- do you even- how-” You still haven’t fully recovered and your mouth struggles to form words. His smile widens and you know he’s enjoying watching you splutter.

“What, do you think in all of my 350 years I've never bedded a mortal? Besides,” he trails his hand down your neck and strokes it gently with his thumb, sending a shiver down your spine, “I have other ways of getting my fill.”

You instinctively tilt your head for him, almost like you’re inviting him to bite right here and now. You manage to recoup your senses just enough to quip, “I’m sure you have plenty of experience luring cute mortals back to your place.”

You think you see his jaw tighten for a fraction of a second, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“I’ll take it as a yes, then?” He pulls away and adjusts his glasses, his fingers sliding into his hair. You nod, not trusting the words to come out of your mouth. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and tucks it into the neckline of your shirt, a move that would have been unbearably corny coming from anyone else.

“See you then… lover.” He winks and glides out of the room as silently as he came in. You take a breath to steady yourself, a voice in the back of your head grumbling because of how much he has you wrapped around his finger. But admittedly, he seemed equally flustered when you almost plowed into him a few minutes ago.

Maybe not the best choice of words.

You pull the piece of paper out to see an address, date, and time. Tomorrow at 7. 

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

Now you just need to occupy yourself for the next 26 hours and not completely lose your nerve.

***

Occupying yourself isn’t terribly difficult with Shadowheart around. She keeps you busy all day with various errands, shopping, anything to keep you from spiraling.

Nevertheless, when it’s finally time to get dressed, you find yourself overthinking every tiny element. You stand frozen in front of your open underwear drawer trying to decide between the black lace or the pink satin.

“Shadowheeeaaaarrrrrtttt,” you call out to her in the other room. She pops her head in and gives you a pitying smile as she sees your anxiety-ridden face.

“Alright, sit, let me help,” she clinks her glass down on your dresser and nudges you until you’re sitting on your bed, fidgeting with the belt of your robe. 

“Black lace, it’s sexier,” she says sagely, tossing the panties at you and you slide them on under your robe. She pulls the plaid skirt out of the shopping bag and flings it onto the bed. 

“Put that on because we both agreed it’s adorable. It might be warm enough to go without tights?” she muses, then glances at you mischievously. “And since he has a track record of destroying those, maybe go with these instead.” She throws a pair of thigh highs at you and they hit you in the face. You wrinkle your nose.

“Careful,” you warn, but she ignores you. She floats over to your closet and sifts through the hangers. She pulls out a top, shifts her gaze between you and the garment a few times, then drops it on the floor. After another moment of searching, she pulls out a blousy cardigan, throwing it on the bed next to you.

“Don’t put that on yet, I’ll be right back.” She disappears before you can say anything. You’re left sitting on your bed in just your bra and skirt, and you rub your feet together with a restless energy.

Shadowheart returns just a few minutes later holding a lacy top that reads more as lingerie than an actual shirt. She returns your skeptical frown with a giant grin.

“Shade, I'm not wearing that,” you gripe, and she throws it in your face.

“Put it on before you judge,” she chides in response, and you roll your eyes. 

“Fine, but it probably won't fit,” you say as you take off your bra and don the sheer v-neck cami. Other than straining around your chest slightly, the fit is fine. You put on the oversized cardigan over it and look at the full effect in your floor length mirror.

“See, told you,” she says smugly as you admire your reflection. And it's true, the underwear-as-outerwear really does bring the look from glorified schoolgirl cosplay into something a bit more refined. You give her a disgruntled sidelong glance but otherwise say nothing.

“Alright, get going. Go put your shoes on and chase that Ph D.” She pushes you out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment. “Don't worry about me, I'll be here drinking your wine and masturbating all by myself while you get fucked through the end of the tenday.”

You slip on your black suede ankle boots and pleadingly look at Shadowheart one more time. You're still not convinced that this whole thing isn’t just a trip into the lion’s den.

“Go! I look forward to hearing all the gory details,” she says and plants a smooch on your cheek. She then smacks your ass as you head out the door, your yelp earning a satisfied smirk.

Sure enough, when you find yourself outside his apartment door, you can feel your cold feet catching up with you. You're about to take out your phone and text Shadowheart that you're going to leave when his door opens.

“Hello, beautiful,” he croons, and the syrup in his voice makes your mouth go dry. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up and the first few buttons are undone, leaving his collarbone exposed. The black vest tapers in his waist and flows seamlessly into his well-tailored trousers. But the first thing you notice is his glasses.

“Your glasses are different,” you blurt, internally cursing your bluntness. His eyebrows pop up above the thicker plastic frames.

“Is that a problem?” he asks without a hint of malice in his voice. You blush and quickly shake your head.

“No I- I like them. They look good,” you stutter, looking away from the heat of his gaze. He smiles and takes your hand almost like he's leading you in a courtly dance, pulling you inside.

You look around his apartment, noticing the similarities to the hominess of his office. Big overfull bookshelves, warm-lit lamps dotted around the space, papers and other junk littered across every surface. It still surprises you that he doesn’t keep a tidy space, but at the same time you find it oddly charming.

You spot a hairless cat sitting on some mail on a table in the corner, delicately licking its paw. 

“Aww, who’s this?” You approach the cat, holding out your hand for it to sniff. It hisses in response and you take a step back.

“That's His Majesty, and you're best to respect his wishes,” Astarion calls from the kitchen.

“You named your cat His Majesty?” you ask, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

“No, he named himself His Majesty,” he replies, returning from the kitchen with a spoonful of risotto. “Taste,” he commands and you obediently open your mouth. The steaming food coats your tongue with a tangy, savory taste. You nod at him, barely trusting yourself to speak. It tastes incredible.

You turn back to His Majesty, and you notice an empty potion of animal speaking tipped on its side near him.

“Well I'll just admire such a handsome creature from a distance, then,” you say and His Majesty preens slightly. You can hear a hum of approval from Astarion as he retreats back into the kitchen.

This man is full of contradictions. Pristine, clean cut outward appearance with a cluttered, disorganized space. Cool and disaffected, but he loves his cat enough to use potions to communicate with him. He doesn't need to eat, but somehow he’s an incredible cook? You frown to yourself; it feels like something doesn't add up.

You start scanning one of the bookshelves, wondering what else you can learn about him. If there was an organizational system, it wasn't clear. 48 Laws of Power, History of Modern Sexuality, On the Genealogy of Morality, Gender Trouble… Ayn Rand sitting next to Octavia Butler?

What the fuck does he like?

“How is my collection of books holding up in your estimation?” Astarion’s sudden presence behind you makes you jump. He presses a wine glass into your hand and ghosts his lips across the crook of your neck, sending a swath of goosebumps down your arms.

“Did I tell you that you look absolutely delicious?” he murmurs into your skin, and you can already feel yourself getting lightheaded.

“You're one to talk,” you say on a dizzied exhale, and the breath from his laugh tickles your shoulder. He puts his hands on your waist, running a finger along the inside of the waistband of your skirt. He gives it a gentle tug and you unconsciously move in the direction he’s pulling.

“Come eat,” he says, guiding you to a table with one place setting. You sit, feeling awkward as he sits across from you, a wine glass in his hand.

“Are you just going to watch me eat?” you laugh nervously. He smiles into the glass, glancing at you above the rectangular frames sliding down his nose.

“Well if you're insistent, I can have my dinner as well.” He's not subtle about leering at your neck, sparking a flicker of heat in your belly. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the risotto, which somehow tastes even better than what he fed you before.

“So what do you experience when you have… food?” you ask, trying to shift his attention off you eating. He looks up as he thinks, and you find your gaze tracing his jawline.

“It’s… sour. Like it’s spoiled. But when something is cooked well, and with high quality ingredients, it’s more bearable.”

You look down at your food, the taste dancing across your palette. It's certainly better than something you could make for yourself. But you know so little about cooking techniques besides the basics that you don’t know what the difference would even be.

“And you're drinking wine. What does that taste like?” You try not to stare at the dark red liquid collecting on his lips, but it’s hard not to when his tongue darts out to lick it up.

“Alcohol has a higher threshold for quality, so it's generally more palatable. It usually means a higher budget for these things, but it's not as though I'm spending much on groceries.” He narrows his eyes at you, but you can't read his expression. 

“Well go on,” he continues, and you tilt your head in confusion. “Ask the question that you really want to ask.” Your heart starts beating a little faster and he smirks. Gods, you really hate that he can read you like that. It would be nice to keep at least one emotion private.

“What does blood taste like?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's clear that he hears you. His smile widens just enough to show off his fangs.

“It depends on the person,” he replies just as casually as if you had asked him about his taste in music. “Some are sweeter, like a nice rich port, while others have a bit of a burn, like whiskey. However, you?” He places his glass on the table and stands, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. He crosses behind your chair and sweeps your hair to the side, lasciviously inhaling your scent behind your ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Yours is smooth with a hint of spice, like a fine aged brandy. But the finish has an addictive quality, like absinthe.” He nips lightly at the base of your neck without breaking skin.

“Such pretty words,” you exhale on a breathy moan, reaching a hand up behind you and running your fingers through his hair, pulling him toward you ever so slightly.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes into your ear, and you arch your back in your seat, panting. You can barely get out the “yes” before he sweeps you out of the chair and wraps your legs around his waist. He carries you into the kitchen, placing you on the counter and pressing your knees apart with his torso. You whine and the cool tile pressing into your ass reminds you of his touch. He slides one hand behind your head and the other around your waist, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

The initial pain surprises you every time, and your yelp is followed by his satisfied groan. You grip the back of his neck as he drinks, and you can feel the muscles working with each swallow. The feeling of your blood coursing through both of your bodies gets you high, knowing it's your blood that flushes his lips, cheeks, and ears. It's your blood flowing to his cock. The reminder of it makes you clench instinctively.

He pulls away just as you're teetering on the edge of passing out. He’s always panting after he feeds, his glasses slightly askew and a ravenous look in his eye that makes your mouth water. You pull him into a heated kiss, the metallic tang on his lips becoming a sensory reminder of the post-feeding bliss. 

You pull him closer with your feet, aching just to feel him pressed against you. Your hands scramble against his back, tugging at his collared shirt. He’s wearing far too many layers and he hasn’t even blessed you with the sight of his gorgeous sculpted chest yet. 

You slide a hand into the back of his collar, desperate for his skin, when your fingers brush over thick raised scar tissue. He pulls back faster than you do and your hands immediately go to cover your mouth.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t–” you begin but the pained look in his eye makes you stop short.

“No it's… it's fine. I've had those for a very long time. I… ah…” he stutters, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably, and you've never seen him so flummoxed.

“What are they from?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You're about to retract, tell him he doesn't need to answer, when he speaks quietly.

“They're from… the man who turned me. He kept me as a slave for 200 years. It’s something written in infernal, but I never found out what it said. And his death ensured I never would.” He speaks while looking down at the floor, his distant gaze indicating that he's somewhere else entirely.

“Astarion…” you breathe, and you cup his face in your hands. He smirks and snakes his arms around your waist; the mask is back on.

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” he says with a composed smile, “it was a very long time ago. I’m more concerned with tonight.” He moves to kiss your neck again but you put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No- well, I mean yes to tonight, but… let me take care of you,” you say softly, and his careful expression slips again.

“I- well if that’s what you want.” He crinkles his brow, unsure of what to make of your proposal.

“Is it what you want?” You stroke his cheek, and it suddenly feels like this is an entirely different man standing in front of you. Hesitant, vulnerable, his usual swaggering confidence replaced with an uncertain tenderness that makes your heart pound in a way that feels wholly unfamiliar with him.

“I’m not sure,” he says, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“We don’t have to,” you offer quickly, “we can just fuck up against a wall or something.” The joke breaks the tension and he lets out a little giggle.

“What do you have in mind?” He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and you ease off the counter and gently nudge him backwards toward his bedroom. He follows your lead, his doubtful look shifting into something of excitement and mischief. You guide him until the back of his knees hit the bed, and you push him to sit. 

You straddle his lap and run your fingers through his silvery curls. You kiss along his jawline and down his neck, placing a particularly tender kiss on his bite scar. He exhales heavily, sliding his hands up your thighs and resting them on your lower back.

You begin carefully unbuttoning his vest, followed by his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants. You slide it down his shoulders and onto the bed behind him, letting your warm hands run over the cool planes of his skin. His eyes follow your movements carefully and you take your time, tracing over every divet, every freckle and mole. You delight in his gasp when your fingers dance over his navel and down to his belt buckle.

You slip off his lap and drop between his legs, your hands continuing their journey along his hips. You plant increasingly hungry kisses above his waistband as you remove his belt and unzip his pants. He leans back on his hands as his breathing quickens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

You’re struck with the irony that the last time you were between Astarion’s legs like this it was to get revenge, to make him feel flustered and speechless the way he always does to you. Now you have him, flustered and speechless, and all you want is to worship him, make him feel warm and safe.

You slide his pants down under his ass, pulling them all the way off so he’s sitting on his bed fully nude. You run your lips along his inner thigh as you palm his growing erection. 

“Ah- wait,” he stammers and you immediately look up and pull back.

“Yes?” you ask, frozen by the fear that you’ve gone too far.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, nudging your cardigan off your shoulder. “All of you.”

It’s hard to believe that someone sitting naked in front of you can make you feel so exposed. You shiver as you drop the cardigan off your back, the sudden exposure to cool air making your nipples poke through the lacy top that Shadowheart gave you. You stand and he watches intently as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. His expression gives little away, but his cock doesn’t. By the time you’ve removed the black panties, thigh highs, and cami, it stands at full attention. His knees squeeze around your legs and his arms pull you in close to him, pressing his nose against your belly. You card your fingers through his hair and down to his chin, tilting his head upwards.

“Better?” you breathe, and he nods, his eyes round and wide. You bend down to kiss him, slow and languid, before dropping to your knees again. When you pull away his mouth stays open, suspended in the shape of your kiss.

You settle between his knees and lightly kiss the head of his dick. You flick your gaze upward, monitoring his expression as you lazily run your fingers along his shaft. His glasses balance on the tip of his nose as he looks down at you, transfixed by your ministrations. You open your lips slightly, not quite taking him into your mouth yet as you softly cup his balls in your hand. You can hear his breath growing ragged, and he rewards you with an almost inaudible moan when your tongue finally wets his cock.

You wrap your lips around his tip, gently working the underside with your tongue. You run your hands up his thighs, squeezing his hips as they buck into you. You take more of him in, the warmth of your mouth contrasting with the cool, sensitive skin. He groans and tangles his fingers in your hair, a gesture that feels closer to petting than pulling.

You pull your mouth off his cock, wrapping your hand around the now slick shaft. You run your thumb along the slit, and his responding shutter makes you smile.

“Ah- enjoying yourself?” he murmurs, unable to keep his voice steady. You look up at him and drag your tongue along his entire length.

“I am, are you?” you hum, taking him back into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. His leg quivers beside you, his toes curling inward.

“Mmph,” he grunts in assent, his hand twisting into your hair a little more. You slip your hands under his thighs and slide your mouth further down, letting him fill you up. His hips jerk, wanting to thrust into you, and you relax your jaw to let him. His little pants and disjointed moans send a jolt of heat down to your core, and you can feel yourself becoming wet with desire for him. 

You reach down and slip your middle finger between your slick folds, your groan vibrating into him. He hisses and pulls you off his cock and into a fierce kiss. The two of you tumble backwards onto the bed, your hair encircling you like a curtain. You press your bodies together, the smoldering heat spreading into a raging wildfire. He lines himself up with your entrance as you continue your desperate assault on his lips. He slides in with ease and your cry into his mouth accompanies him bottoming out. 

You push yourself up, bracing yourself on his chest as you grind into him. He plants his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your hair cascading down the length of your back. You increase the pace of your rolling hips, each breath growing more voiced as you approach your peak. 

“Oh gods, Astarion,” you babble, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. He realizes you’re getting close, he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tight. He latches onto your nipple, flicking his tongue and sucking to send your pleasure to staggering heights. You arch your back into him as your arms hook over his shoulders, brushing your hands against those awful scars. Your hands splay across his back as if to say no one will ever hurt you like that again. 

You pull his face to yours so that you can taste his lips as you crash over the edge. The kiss is broken up by your cries and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grunts in time with his pulsing seed. You stay still and connected as the waves of pleasure ebb and flow and finally settle. The only noise left in the room is both of your heavy panting, and the telltale sound of just your heart pounding.

His hands slide down your back as you carefully pull yourself off him and you shiver as his now-soft cock falls out of you. You kneel next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, and he reaches over to stroke your jaw.

“Thank you,” he hums softly, and you press another sweet kiss to his neck. His scar.

After a moment you let out a contented sigh, then you say, “Well, I should probably gather my things and go, then.” You begin to stand to dress, but his hand closes around your wrist. You turn to him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“Or you could… stay. If you want.” He looks up at you through smudged and sweaty glasses and a smile tugs at your lips.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you watch him shift uncomfortably with a question that he’s not used to answering.

“I want…” he begins, hesitant. “I want to watch last year’s Globe production of Much Ado About Nothing with you. You said you like that one, right?” Your ears grow hot as you realize the extent to which he actually paid attention to you, even before you were sleeping together.

“I do, yeah. One of his best,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you repeat his words back to him. That interaction feels like it was eons ago, when in fact it was less than a tenday. 

He smirks, some of his confident charm seeping back into his demeanor. He scoots back on the bed until he’s resting against the headboard, and then he reaches out to you, inviting you to curl in next to him. You oblige, and he turns on the TV across from the bed, pulling up the pro-shot. You sink in next to him, appreciating how his chest cools your flushed cheek.

A single word gnaws at the back of your mind and you banish it quickly. 

No, that’s the oxytocin talking.

It’s just been a long time since you’ve slept with someone more than once.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the gnawing grows more insistent.

…

Fuck.

[meganechan05]

Trying to read as much as I can tonight from the King-Ohger Official Perfect Book so here are some notes:

The original pitch Omori-P gave to TakaMina didn't involve bugs at all, only a team of Kings. It only ended up having a bug motif because their conversation about how each King's country works which turned into connection to bugs.

TakaMina showed up to a production meeting with a 16-page pitch on what he wants to do for the show including character, settings, and overall plot.

The two did have ideas on connecting KingOh to previous sentai teams but scrapped it in favor of making KingOh being a standalone team.

The Kyoryuger episodes were done solely for the anniversary. The only reason they managed to make it work was because they already had plans on making Caucus Kabuto Castle a spaceship.

They didn't want to do KingDon at all because it would break the flow of how KingOh worked. But when they finally decided to do it, they had to discuss with Kato-D a lot and get his input as he's worked on Donbros.

Prince showing up in Episode 40 was a last-minute decision because Sakamoto and Kaneko already submitted the script for KingKyoryu V-Cine and they needed to make sure it'd make sense.

The two praised KingOh but most of their focus was on Kyoryuger which was why the V-Cine felt more like a Kyoryuger movie than a crossover movie.

Omori was probably the most level-headed of the Main 3. While working on the idol episode, everyone in the cast and crew including Sony PCL who gave them the LCD screen went crazy with production. Omori questioned their sanity as he believed they didn't have to go that far for a joke episode. (Yes, they did. KingOh needed the silly break)

Costume designs actually struggled a bit with the ranger suits. Because of the inclusion of armor and bug motif, they had to be extra careful to not make it like Rider. To make it more Sentai, they decided on having the visors be a big piece in the shape of the bugs. The proportions had to be skewed in order to make the visors work.

Kamakiri's is the only visor that faces the bug from the front rather than the back like the rest (also the only Main Shugod who faces to the side in the Soul). When it was decided KamakiriOhger was going to be female, they made sure the visor didn't look too sharp.

PapillonOhger being purple was a decision made by Toei.

They were made to be neither male or female when designing. When designing PapillonOhger, they went through 5 different shades of purple before settling on the final product.

The belt is the thinnest in history as its only use is to store the OhgerCalibur. They added the phone to the front even though the Kings never takes said Hotlines out while transformed.

The OhgerCaliburs were designed with the decision there weren't going to be any additions made to them. Most of the design struggles was how each switch was designed and used.

The King's Weapon was hard to design as it's a 5-way weapon that connects to the Calibur but they were happy it ended up working out.

No idea if I'll read more but these are very interesting to note.

[absolutebl]

Leaving GMMTV aside, what were youre favorite shows this year so far? I'll have more free time coming up and im way behind and out of the loop, so some recs would be appriacted, wise sage. Especially for those shows that didnt get the attention they deserved in your opinion! Thanks a lot!

Top 10 BLs of 2023 So Far

Our Dating Sim

(Korea) 10/10 Viki

If you haven't watched this, it's a must. I actually handed out a 10/10. I NEVER do that. It's a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent. Full review here.

My School President

(Thai) 9/10 YouTube

GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this. And there is a lot to be said for the classics being re-executed perfectly. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? This show was fantastic, it’s only flaw was the singing (and that’s my baggage). My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.

(you said no GMMTV but I have to include it)

The Eighth Sense

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

One of the longest BLs Korea has given us and (like Blueming) it feels more atmospheric gay coming of age romance than strictly BL. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. It’s a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs (do I detect a touch of Taiwan?) This one deployed BL tropes (messy eater, shoulder sleep, protective seme, there’s even some hyung-slinging) but front loaded them with painful backstory and tons angst drives the 2nd half. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it does have a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.

The New Employee

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss. As you do. Frankly? This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever! Directed by queer activist Kim Jho Gwang Soo (Just Friends?) partly set in the same neighbourhood as the To My Star house. Gotta love WATCHA (Semantic Error, Light on Me).

Unintentional Love Story

(Korea) 9/10 iQIYI

A boy who just lost his job due to faked corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). I’m not sure on rewatchability, and it didn’t whip me into a verbal frenzy the way some KBLs do, but it still gets a solid 9/10 for those damn eyes alone.

Destiny Seeker

(Thai) 8/10 grey

A darn near perfect pulp featuring 3 likeable tsundere/sunshine pairings with uncomplicated iterations of enemies to lovers. At least one half of each does a decent amount of pining and there’s good chemistry, classic tropes, and communication rep. It’s fun and full of linguistic jokes. Sublimely cheesy but a good rainy day offering with tons of rewatch potential. Full review here.

Make a Wish

(Thai) 8/10

PNR (from Sammon - Manner of Death & Triage) about a doctor who can see the dead and strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love. Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who cares bc Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but v. satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay af, fag hag bestie and everything. The cast is excellent but the comedic stylings are too overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency.

All the Liquors

(Korea) 8/10 Viki & Gaga

A pretty classic foodie set KBL that managed to distinguish itself from others in this category by having a particularly satisfying final episode centered around found family. Sunshine sweetie soju rep gets involved with a shy introvert chef who doesn’t drink. This has a somewhat uneven plot and ridiculous central conceit (much in the way of Tasty Florida or Behind Cut), but if you are looking for a restaurant BL with Korea’s signature softness, then this is a great option. FYI I may identify with our baby party boy hedonist more than any other BL lead ever presented.

Love Mate

(Korea) 8/10 Viki

Features a very much openly gay older uke with commitment issues and a romantic (if arrogant) younger seme with no respect for boundaries (hyung romance). Workplace harassment much? That’s BL for ya. (Also a nonBL Kdrama specialty.) So yeah it’s questionable, but so is my taste. The ultimate premise that someone badly hurt shuts themself off to romance is very similar to Happy Merry Ending or 8th Sense but this version was more about fear than abuse or trauma. For me, this made Love Mate more relatable. However, because the denouement was driven by a late addition faen fatal, the conclusion felt rushed and forced. I can, however, see myself rewatching this one, so it falls into the general rank of 2023′s KBL aka solid high standard and eminently watchable.

Bed Friend

(Thai YouTube, Gaga, iQIYI)

Office frienamies transition a flaming hot one night stand into a f-buddy relationship that is built on a puppy/cat dynamic (and kinks into it at one point). Our puppy is loyal, smitten, and protective with endlessly longing eyes, while our cat is snarky, prickly, and deeply damaged (ALL THE TRIGGERS). NetJames give lovely high-heat with excellent chemistry and tuned-in performances of surprising depth, unfortunately the story ultimately failed them. Had the show had the strength of its convictions and kept to a tighter, darker, harsher 8 eps it would have been the first high heat to earn a 10/10 from me, but once they fussed with it, it dropped to a solid 8/10. Could have been great but was overworked. Still if high heat is your thing, this one will not let you down. Full review here. (Triggers include: child abuse, attempted rape, family abuse)

(3x! 3x Tumblr ate this post. They HAVE to de bug their new editor. This never happens with the old one. Biggest bug is with the "undo" function, DO something about it!)

[melrosing]

Do you have any other asoiaf fancasts?

lol I think I answer this pretty regularly with a kind of noncommittal 'none except Mark Strong for Stannis' which I stand by, and obvs GRRM's own fancasting of Nicole Kidman for Cers, I think that's pretty pitch perfect.

his fancast of young Cary Elwes as Jaime I'm kind of two minds about, I think he's a decent Jaime resemblance (blond pretty boy who doesn't look like he's held an iphone is kind of weirdly hard) but I think some kind of young Cary Elwes crossed with a young Jude Law (aesthetically and in terms of acting style) would be Jaime exactly lol. think Jude Law is cutting in the right way

as for any others.... I liked the idea I've seen around a few times that Joseph Mawle (Benjen in GOT) would make a good Ned - I think he really would, he has the perfect look and I remember him giving a v moving performance in Birdsong (2012) that speaks to Ned's warmer side reserved for his family

love Michelle Fairley, don't really have any notes except that I think Claire Foy would also be a good Cat if someone got her a wig. thinking Claire Foy more in Wolf Hall btw, fuck The Crown and all their clipped lil accents

wish I could fancast anyone as Brienne but noone I know of in the industry looks anything like her. but if I were casting based on style alone and forget what the actor looks like, I would pick someone like Saoirse Ronan..... basic ass film twitter choice yes but I love her 'acting with the eyes' style which I think would be perfect for Brienne.... her scenes in the first half of Brooklyn (2015) have the vibe I could imagine working for her. also fuck it keep the irish accent. sapphire isle. emerald isle. it's all good

ok that's all i can be bothered with for now

[industria-adastra]

Ideal Heaven (Let's become one in mind, body and soul)

Summary: To her, to love, and to act upon that love, was a very simple thing. Because there were exquisitely ugly beings in this world. Because she always knew best. And because she loved anyone and everyone, and because she knew anything and everything…

Kriemhild Gretchen’s love was overpowering, because she only wanted what was best for those whom she loved.

And Kriemhild Gretchen loved humanity.

-

L-O-V-E L-O-V-E

(Listen to me)

Note: I am held in a chokehold by Vampire Knight rn (It literally rearranged my brain chemistry as a kid) but it doesn't mean I can't write for other fandoms. Like PMMM. And for MadoHomu (kinda) Listen to DOKUZU by Nakiso for a better feel?

------

Today, like every other day, was quiet. Below, the people rushed to get to their destinations, eager for another day of heaven. As always, their hair was perfectly styled, and perfectly coiffed. Their buttons shone and their eyes were glassy. 

The sun shone brilliantly, the sky was a perfect blue, and the flowers were blooming—just like every other day. Nothing was out of place: the floor was as polished as a mirror, and the air was as clean as could be. Together, they breathed as one in unison; the air cycling through to be used again and again. 

No one was sad, no one was angry. There was no suffering to be found in the empty expressions of her most cherished denizens. Mercy had been given freely, and the consequences had been clear to see.

The birds above in perfectly formed, perfectly trimmed trees sang in pitch-perfect harmony, and Kriemhild Gretchen was happy. 

So, so, very happy.

It was a joy only amplified by the peace of the people. 

She could feel the happiness of the people—a stagnant emotion like tar. It enveloped every one of them, coursing through their veins and pumping within their hearts. Subsuming them all to elevate their happiness to new heights. Their happiness fed hers, and so out of kindness she fed it right back to them, over, and over again—a negative feedback loop that would never end. 

There was no sorrow, no malcontent, and certainly no monsters here. She’d cast the light down, swallowed the darkness and gave priceless salvation. Ugly things did not exist within Kriemhild Gretchen’s world, for neither was there a place for them, nor were they ugly anymore after her mercy. Only beautiful things existed within Kriemhild Gretchen’s world, shining gloriously as a testament to all the good she wrought with her mercy. Because from beauty came rapture, and from rapture came euphoria. 

Euphoria meant happiness. Euphoria meant that nothing, nothing would ever colour her pristine world with dreadful, filthy despair again.

Their hearts beat together as one, steady, steady—light and free—and Kriemhild Gretchen knew that all was well.

(But down, down, down, deep below the surface, she could hear that irregular rhythm, all out of sync. And yet—

The world was perfect, perfect, perfect. Trees swayed gently, the vibrant colours dulling further and further as Kriemhild Gretchen dove deeper and deeper within her perfect world.

And yet still, opening the doors, travelling down the path within her steel-cage heart, she found a single blemish. 

Not on her, of course. Kriemhild Gretchen was the perfect being who loved all. Her love brought salvation, but salvation had to be wanted. And yet, she supposed she could not blame this blemish within her. For it was that spot of corruption that taught her of the idea of “love”. Love, which was encompassing and all-powerful. Love, which she could take, take, and take.

A love that centred only on two.

For some odd, odd reason, warring with a part of her that screamed to purify that corruption, Kriemhild liked that spot within her. Somehow, she preferred her that way, imperfect and so lovely on her own—her little crow in a sea of doves. 

That Girl was so strange. Some days, she wept. Some days, she screamed. Some days, she was almost just content—just enough to sink into Kriemhild’s loving embrace, staining her lovely, lovely skin before yanking herself out. A pretty little bird with contradictory feelings and actions.

Unbinding the chains, Kriemhild Gretchen gently pushed open the doors. Of course, not before ensuring her mask was picture-perfect. In earlier times, in her haste, Kriemhild often came in with the wrong shade of pink, or an unfortunate melted mess of some poofy pink dress amalgamated with neutral beige, or even with hair all too long and ribbons all too mismatched. She even practised her expressions too, moulding her “face” to suit those flashes of images of that other girl. 

That being said, all those failures still wrought better behaviour than when she came in as herself.

Passing through those doors as if gliding on air, the Witch of Salvation beheld her one and only sinner. There she lay, sleeping on a bed of soft silk and flesh, eyes closed and her hands clasped over her chest. Kriemhild thought a delicate little crown might suit those elegant features, to complete this image—her own little sleeping beauty.

Slowly, slowly, Kriemhild crept closer; hands outstretched from the walls, closer, closer. She admired the black dress contrasting the pallor of her skin, head tilted as she stared. Yes, the Witch thought. Black truly did suit her slumbering doll.

Closer, closer, closer. Her hand moved to brush lightly against that girl’s cheek. Carefully, Kriemhild willed herself to simply grow out of the bed instead, painting legs on either side of the girl. Hands moved to open the crossed palms on her chest as the girl sunk deeper and deeper into slumber. Kriemhild went down, down, down, pressing her ear against that irregularly beating heart.

Thump, thump, thump. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

A wonderful, sublime sound.

Fingers reached to trace a line from her jaw to her heart, talon-like nails skimming over the unprotected flesh of her neck—lamentably marred by a singular, savage bite. One hand slid between raven black strands of hair, tensed, waiting.

And then Kriemhild yanked. 

The girl’s eyes snapped open in pain, shiny, dulling amethyst meeting with Kriemhild’s own brightly pink ones. At that, she grinned, ecstatic to see her most beloved sinner singularly focused on her. (What a terrible harbinger of salvation she was, having favourites. But then again, did prophets and apostles not exist?) 

“Helloo~ Good morning!” Kriemhild’s hands moved to roughly cup the girl’s face, nails pressing on delicate skin. Her torso moved forward until their noses were only centimetres away from touching, still keeping that manic grin on her “face”.

“M— Mado…ka?” Her poor darling slurred, still ever so out of it. But it was oh so adorable, and all Kriemhild wanted to do was eat her, swallow her down, and meld the two of them until she stopped calling her by the wrong name.

But Kriemhild Gretchen was salvation and mercy personified, so instead, she giggled—a soft, tinkling sound that would reverberate within your ears. Over and over again. She wasn’t angry. No, no. Her little birdie just needed a little…reminder.

In low sotto voce, she responded, “Silly… You know that’s not my name, don’t you?”

And then, a kiss, for the pretty princess. Soft but intent, leaving no other option than for the spell to be broken. Kriemhild’s hands fisted black hair, entangling it within her fingers. The scent of roses filled the air. Then she drew back, watching the fog recede from those purple eyes. 

“What’s my name?” Kriemhild calmly asked, seeing sparks flickering once more. The girl didn’t answer. The walls pulsed, contracting flesh and bone. Once, twice.

Thrice.

“Come on, I’m quite sure you know it by now, don’t you? I believe you’re smart enough to remember something as simple as that, right? Come now, say my name.” Kriemhild’s voice was poisonously sweet, a sign of her waning patience. Even a being as magnanimous as her was bound to have a limit to patience. Especially when it came to her name. 

Eyes more red than pink bore down at the figure beneath her. She could hear that irregular heart, fluttering its wings like a hummingbird.

“My name, Dear.”

The girl’s eyes darted around, searching for something Kriemhild couldn’t see. Didn’t she know there was nothing here but Kriemhild and her? Nothing else but the two of them (forever, forever, forever). A small, pink tongue quickly swiped at chapped lips, before a light, airy voice came out. “Kriem—” She paused, taking a small glance at Kriemhild’s current, waiting expression. “Kriemhild Gretchen.”

As always these days, her words came slow, not quite the sharp blades they once were. It was indeed a testament to Kriemhild Gretchen’s own mercy and patience, to wait as long as she could. But the reward at the end was always worth it.

“Good girl!” Kriemhild was as quick as always to hand out praise, arms wrapping tight around a thin torso before she squeezed with suppressed euphoria. Little laughs trickled out from her mouth, muffled only by the fact that her face was pressed against the girl’s chest—deforming as it was right now. Minutes passed by before Kriemhild deemed herself safe from melting before her raven’s eyes.

Once again, her hands moved to cup her little birdie’s face before she spoke. “You’ve been becoming more and more of a good girl these days, you know? Before, it would always take such a long time for you to remember that I’m. Not. Madoka.” White noise hung in the air, buzzing with an intensity that only grew and grew.

Her name was Kriemhild Gretchen.

The girl only ever called her “Madoka” when unprompted.

Yes, Kriemhild Gretchen was mercy personified. Yes, she was the most perfect, pure being in this corrupted (now violently cleansed) world. Yes, she only ever did her best to turn this world into paradise. But Kriemhild Gretchen did not share.

These people, this girl most of all, were all hers, hers, hers.

(Because she loved her, and her little birdie loved her too but only through a mask, no matter how inelegant and diminutive it was. Kriemhild Gretchen loved with a ferocity that belied an all-consuming desire for her beautiful raven to love her madly, truly—to allow Kriemhild one day fully swallow her whole, subsuming her so she would never, ever leave. Never, ever cry once more. Kriemhild Gretchen loved this pitiful sinner of hers and no one would take her from Kriemhild.)

It took her much less time to notice the blood leaking from the girl’s nose, eyes, ears, and mouth. This time, she didn’t even have to be told by the drip drip drip of crimson life. Kriemhild shifted in the girl’s lap, noting the subtle wince at the changing weight. She must’ve twisted and broken her legs again.

Gently, Kriemhild wiped away the blood nearing those soft lips, smearing it on her knuckles and her raven’s fine-boned cheek.

What a pretty picture.

She kissed her again.

“You know you’re mine for all eternity, right?”

Her caged bird did not respond.

----

Once, she held in her heart an ice-cold body, perfectly preserved in all its beauty. Mangled yet healing, Kriemhild’s hands held that small heart of her bird’s near her own makeshift body, wondering if she should simply eat it bit by bit or swallow it whole.

For some reason, she’d returned that glowing heart of purple glass back to its original body instead. Staring at the girl who should’ve only been another sinner to her, Kriemhild had not yet understood why she kept her—nor the three other bodies she’d consumed—inside her heart.

Yes, they’d come a long way from that moment.

And yet, and yet… It really wasn’t enough. Kriemhild could feel it in her very soul.

----

That girl… No, “Homura”, was still not content within this world, within her. 

How much longer until they would be one? How much longer would she come in, always hearing Madoka, Madoka, Madoka first? How much longer did she have to put up with that mask?

As she pondered those questions, Kriemhild Gretchen swallowed Homura deeper in, creating more doors, creating more thorny vines to keep her most beloved sinner. Perhaps Kriemhild Gretchen’s heaven was imperfect (and oh, how it stung to know so) for Homura. Perhaps Homura only needed to understand her more, by delving deeper into her world. 

Perhaps, one day, she would no longer be called “Madoka” first.

And perhaps one day, her heart would not feel so empty.

(Three bodies in, and yet still Kriemhild wanted, wanted, wanted)

[matt0044]

What can I say? Tangle & Whisper's mini-series had me by the balls. Can't wait to dive into the Metal Virus. In any case, here's a voice cast I've had in mind when reading the comic original characters:

"Christine Marie Cabanos as Tangle The Lemur" - Many fan casters tend to focus on Tangle as a sporty tomboy and think of a raspy voice not unlike Rainbow Dash or Amethyst. This isn't bad but I found myself thinking outside the box when I was revisiting Kill La Kill and its bombass dub at the time. Christine's Mako Makanshoku had just the kind of energy and cocksure that Tangle would have as a rookie to the Resistance.

Mind you, she would even out the pitch to sound closer to a young adult/older teen that the characters tend to (mostly) come across as but no less hyperactive like Mako when the moment calls for it. Additionally, Christine could dip more into her Madoka Kaname performance to capture her more emotional side, particularly when Whisper lets her in on what happened to the Diamond Cutters. It would make for a great range that toes the line just like Tangle has in terms of being somewhat obnoxious but not in a "Scrappy Doo" kind of way.

Bonus - This is a song that I think fits Tangle's character to a T: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVimjyR6vIc

Another that describes her and Whisper because this ship has me by the balls: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2rNLdSJjxU

"Erica Mendez as Whisper The Wolf" - Erica would play her not too unlike her soft-spoken Retsuko (barring Heavy Metal scenes played by an actual Heavy Metal singer) but in a consistently hushed tone. However, moments where she's emotionally devastated like fearing losing Tangle or... losing Tangle would be where her performances as Atsuko Kagari from Little Witch Academia and Gon from Hunter X Hunter come in.

Bonus - This song describes what I think is her vibe after Mimic's betrayal and between missions: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fkifn-zJzx4

This describes her memory of the Shadow Androids: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvKBMVKJOz0

"Todd Haberkorn as Dr. Starline The Platypus" - Todd's performance as Death The Kid shows a very balanced performance between his more goofy side and serious, grounded side, one that would apply well to the campy Dr. Starline. It would work well with his raising of Surge and Kit with his callous use of his Hypno Glove.

Bonus: I feel this music works well with his character (starts at the 1:04 minute mark): https://soundcloud.com/user-335233093/goseiger-matrintis-bgms-kotetsu-no-akui-matrintis

"Sarah Anne Williams as Surge The Tenrec" - Anybody who's heard her performance as Nonon Jakuzure and Tifa from FFVII Machinamabridged will know that Sarah can do punk. She just needs to ramp up the gruffness if only to see Surge as a homegrown teenage with major issues.

Bonus - This more rocking variant of Starline's theme would work with how he still haunts her (starts at the 24 second mark): https://soundcloud.com/user-335233093/goseiger-matrintis-bgms-2-kotetsu-no-akui-matrintis

"Johnny Yong Bosch as Kitsunami The Fennec" - Johnny may be known for his Super Saiyans, bounty hunters on the run and Anime pretty boys but his performance as Doraemon's Nobita as well as Yokai Watch's Nate shows that he can do timid young boy. Kit being the Tails to Surge's Sonic makes it a perfect fit.

His theme would be a more subdued version of Surge's (starts at the 2:34 minute mark) https://soundcloud.com/user-335233093/goseiger-danger-bgms-brajira-bgm-1-sakushi-wa-denki-tenshi-no-yume-o-miru-ka

"Cherami Leigh Kuehn as Jewel The Beetle" - A similar beleagured tone of voice to Lucy Heartfilia but with an light English accent, a total contrast to Tangle's character. A way to mask it for future performances given Sonic's big cast.

Agree with me? Disagree with me? Drop a comment for a little convo so long as we can keep it civil and constructive.

[wa3v3y]

Let’s talk about my first theory of relativity experience!

In the production I saw everyone was wearing white. Different clothes but it was all white and barefoot. It was really beautiful and I loved the look of it!

The opening number was amazing. The music was just perfectly written and performed.

The first song being I’m allergic to cats was so silly. It gave Leaf Coneybear Vibes to me except in another universe because Leaf loved cats. It’s a very silly time and the actor was fantastic.

Pi pt. 1: Watching this character come out for this the first time was amazing. I relate to them so much he’s so silly. I sit there and memorize pi because I’m scared of asking people out? Yes.

The end of the line: This is one of the two songs that I’ve heard before driving to this show and I loved the section I heard originally, but seeing the whole song performed live was beautiful. The story is just so investing and I love it.

Great expectations: this song is fabulous. The staging was amazing with the boards on stage. I really enjoyed it and it was so powerful. This song is just perfection.

Relativity (Reprise 1): brining the show back to the title was great. This song hit so hard after great expectations.

Footprint: This song was amazing. The way that the song and the actor told this story was perfection. The dog and then the sister and then the PARENTS. This song just hit so close to me for some reason. Perfection.

Pi pt. 2: I was so happy when this silly little guy came out again. He is perfection to be protected at ALL COSTS. I want to hug him.

Lipstick: This song was so cute. Her talking about hating the shade was so funny and him calculating how to graze her hand. Perfect rom com meet cute.

Apples and oranges: this song was so fucking goofy. I loved it so much and when Ryan (footprint guy) came as the guy that liked oranges. I was giggling and kicking my feet.

Me and Ricky: this song is amazing and executed perfectly. When she smeared the red lipstick on her white shirt it was just OMFG. When I first listened to this song in the car I was thinking of RTC Ricky which was funny. Like oh what if she’s Penny and he’s Ricky. I do have a question: did she kill him? TT

Promise me this: First, how is Erika e v e r y w h e r e. But this song hit so hard and I almost started completely sobbing. The way they staged it with her descriptions being shadows on the cyc *chefs kiss*

Julie’s song: I was sitting there at first being like “wait are these the fucking cats” but it was so cute and both of the characters are PERFECT

Pi pt. 3/Relativity (Reprise 2): I loved all the pi parts but watching him literally crawl out. This song made me so happy when he finally said he’d go and talk to her.

Relative pitch: for some reason I can’t remember this very well. The harmonies are beautiful though.

You will never know: This song with the lipstick people was even better to me. There was so much for me to walk and when they went backwards and then forwards. I loved it.

Person A reprise: bringing this back after seeing the whole story was the best fucking thing. No words just happiness.

Nothing without you: this song made me so sad and gave me such a boost I actually just wanted to curl up and cry for twenty minutes.

Cake monologues: these monologues being sprinkled in were GENIUS. I loved all of these monologues. And when her and pi kid got together I had the best time of my life. I’m literally him.

Nail monologue: this monologue was so long. Like respect for memorizing it. All the stories intertwining made me so fucking happy.

This show was with live accompaniment which was great and it also had a ton of awesome lifts. Perfection.

This show was AMAZING. After I thought “that show was so fucking good there’s no way I can like ride the cyclone more right” spoiler: I was wrong… very wrong. The music was amazing. The cast was amazing. Everything was amazing.

Thank you inner voice! And thank you for reading all of this TT

[the-last-dillpickle]

DS9 trivia from IMDB - Part 5

- The number 47 pops up an inordinate amount of times on computer screens, serial numbers, dates and so on. This tradition was started by Writer and co-Producer Joe Menosky and was soon picked up by the rest of the production team. Menosky said that he chose that particular number because when he was a college student at Pomona College, Professor of Mathematics Donald Bentley proved as a joke that all numbers are equal to 47. Interestingly, Alias (2001) also featured the number 47 many times, and incorporated it into its on-going storyline.    

- References are frequently made to Starfleet "ground troops", and some Starfleet characters have different uniforms (a black uniform with a small colored stripe across the middle). Fans generally accept that these characters are part of a Starfleet Marine Corps; this was an idea which Gene Roddenberry conceived for Star Trek (1966), but never found an opportunity to use until the movie Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989) where the men accompanying Kirk and crew down to Nimbus III were later confirmed to be marines. There was a Starfleet Colonel West in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991), who was most likely a Starfleet Marine since the rank of Colonel doesn't exist in naval organizations. Colonel West was played by Rene Auberjonois, who played Constable Odo on this show. The existence of Starfleet Marines was finally explicitly shown and stated on-screen in Star Trek: Enterprise (2001), indicating that they have been around in the Star Trek universe since at least 2153.    

- The Jem'Hadar were described in the script as tough warriors who were almost impervious to phaser shots. Make-up Supervisor Michael Westmore immediately thought of the thick skin of rhinos and reptiles when he read that description, so he designed the Jem'Hadar to look like dinosaurs, specifically triceratops, complete with horns.    

- The role of Jadzia Dax was initially offered to Famke Janssen, whose character make-up from Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987) season five, episode twenty-one, "The Perfect Mate" inspired the change in Trill character make-up from a forehead prosthesis. She turned down the role in order to remain available to appear in theatrical movies.    

- The U.S.S. Defiant was first envisioned to look like a beefed-up version of a runabout. When that didn't work out, they used an existing design for an alien cargo ship as basis, and developed it as a battleship. It was first called the U.S.S. Valiant, but Producer Rick Berman vetoed any name beginning with letter V, since he didn't want to create confusion with Star Trek: Voyager (1995), which they were setting up at the time. Defiant was chosen because like Enterprise, it was a name that had been used for a ship in Star Trek (1966) as well.    

- There was a level of friction between fans of Babylon 5 (1993) and this show. Babylon 5 (1993) fans felt that writers for this show had stolen many aspects of Babylon 5's premise (occurring recently after a war or occupation, episodes taking place on a space station not located in Earth territory, the cast discovering an ancient malevolent race that would become a major threat, the overall story of the show being less reliant on story-of-the-week episodes, and more of an overarching story arc, et cetera), asserting that Paramount Pictures had rejected J. Michael Straczynski's proposal of Babylon 5 to them in the late 1980s, but used certain details of the pitch by inserting them into the story and premise of this show. There was a concerted effort to bury the hatchet, especially by having Majel Barrett (widow of Gene Roddenberry) appear on Babylon 5 as an alien prophetess who spoke on behalf of her recently deceased husband (a nod to Roddenberry, who had passed away a few years before her appearance).    

- Regarding season seven: after Terry Farrell's departure from the show, a replacement had to be found to play the new host for the Dax symbiont. The showrunners were adamant not to cast a man in the role, as they wanted to maintain the running joke where Sisko refers to a young female Dax as 'Old Man'. It was decided that 'Ezri Dax' would be a young person, fresh from the Academy, who would display some adjustment problems because she had become stuck with an old Trill soul without going through the standard Trill training first. Numerous fans were initially reluctant to accept Nicole de Boer as the new host for the Dax symbiont, rather derisively referring to de Boer as "Ally McTrill", due to her slightly neurotic personality resembling Calista Flockhart's Ally McBeal (1997).    

- It is frequently stated that there are 285 official Ferengi 'Rules of Acquisition', although only 44 were ever mentioned in Deep Space Nine and subsequent Star Trek series. Because of fans continuously asking for a complete list, and knowing that someone would otherwise make one sooner or later, Ira Steven Behr finally took it upon him to write 'The Ferengi Rules of Acquisition' (ISBN 0-671-52936-6), credited as "By Quark as told to Ira Steven Behr."    

- Executive Producer and co-Creator Michael Piller said that when coming up for an idea for the series concept of this show, there were initially three ideas considered: another starship adventure, a space station concept, and a remote frontier colony. The frontier colony idea was briefly considered, with the idea that since Star Trek (1966) was compared to Captain Horatio Hornblower (1951) in outer space, the new series would be compared to Gunsmoke (1955), but on a remote planet. The frontier colony idea was eventually dropped since it would've required a lot of on-location shooting, and the space station idea was ultimately developed instead.    

- On occasion, sets from Star Trek: Voyager (1995) are used as other Starfleet locales. (For example: a holosuite grid in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Inquisition (1998), the entire U.S.S. Bellerophon (which was an Intrepid-class starship, same as Voyager) in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges (1999).    

[serve-cunt]

my mum has been nagging me to get into tennis ... is it worth it (pitch it to me !!!!)

omg hahahaha YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO HER IT'S THE BEST!! I weirdly already wrote out a tennis manifesto for @lazarus-james but basically it's the perfect sport ... you take a bunch of gangly beautiful freaks and one by one you make them stand across a net from each other ... they play the most beautiful game in the world with a scoring system that will take you a full calendar month to understand ... the audience has to be quiet while the ball is in play which!! yes please!!

but as with any sport the fun is in the narrative and tennis has some of the best rivalries in the WORLD e.g. the Big Three (djokovic, federer and nadal), the williams sisters, sampras v agassi AND NOWWWW whatever is happening with the new blood — carlos alcaraz v jannik sinner (my boiiii), iga sviatek v aryna sabalenka v (dare I say it??) coco gauff — and a whole cast of another characters that span from lawful evil to serving cunt (it's a tennis pun!!!)

anyway you should deffo watch and then sliiiiiiiide into my dms and we can talk about my boiii here he is:

gangly fuckin freak of my heart!!!!!

[orionsgifs]

MORTAL KOMBAT 2 Fancast.

These are my fancast for the sequel! When I fancasg these characters, I’ll write down my reasoning for these! Please give feedback! I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Now before I continue any further, the director wanted accurate casting just like he did for the first film. So I will be doing the same and respecting his wishes! Anywho, let’s begin!

THE MIZ - Johnny Cage

A WWE wrestler who has an experience in Acting and his gimmick is considered based off Johnny Cage! I feel like he’d do an excellent job considering that he is a good talker and athlete in the wrestling business. Besides, for decades, he’s been very dedicated to giving the fans what they want. He stated that if he ever gets casted, he wants to get the character right due to the last detail. Currently working on his kicks and splits, and he’s old enough to play Jessica McNamee’s romantic interest who is 36. Miz is 42! I honestly don’t see a better cast than this!

YOSHI SUDARSO - Kuai Liang

Yoshi Sudarso as an actor, stuntman and martial artist. Like Joe Taslim, he is also Indonesian of Chinese descent. From my research, he is very good friends with Joe Taslim and was very interested in the role if Kuai Liang is in the script. He is also younger than Joe Taslim (He is 33 years old). You don’t see him in much, but you can find him on Power Rangers, Buffalo Boys, Project Power and Bullet Train! He’s a good actor and a very agile martial artist, and he’s VERY well acquainted with the color blue! He could become the next stuntman actor to get a huge breakout role next to Max Huang, who portrayed Kung Lao!

Also if you look closely and squint your eyes just a little bit, they kinda have a resemblance of being brothers… it could mostly be the eyebrows!

SISI STRINGER - Kitana

This should be a no-brainer fancast since Kitana and Mileena are technically twins. Sisi Stringer has shown her range in acting in Vampire Academy (Stream it on Peacock, it’s amazing.) So I wouldn’t be so surprised if she does get casted as Kitana (But I will be so happy because she deserves it!)

ANDREW KOJI - Kenshi

Andrew Koji is an up and coming British actor and martial artist of Japanese descent. Kenshi is a eurasian (Japanese) character, so this cast would be very fitting for Andrew Koji, especially since he has the look and the mysterious voice and his experience with swords (Storm Shadow in Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins). I could see him pulling this off!

JOE TASLIM - Noob Saibot

Not much of a fancast since this is technically bound to happen, in all honesty. But it would be cool to see Yoshi Sudarso V. Joe Taslim! Just Yoshi living his dream of being on-screen with a friend of his, especially since he stated that Joe Taslim is like a brother to him in the Hollywood industry!

AMBER MIDTHUNDER - NIGHTWOLF

Not a genderbent fancast, but a “passing the mantle down” fancast! I have a pitch where since we saw a photo easter egg of Nightwolf in the movie, he’s most likely a legendary protector of the Matoka. Later that day, he’s gotten very old and asks the great spirit to find another warrior and pass the Nightwolf mantle down to them, then Grey Cloud can train them for the tournament. I fancast David Midthunder as Grey Cloud since David is the face model for Nightwolf in Mortal Kombat 11 and he is also Amber Midthunder’s father! So this could be perfect in my opinion.

[merryfortune]

my favourite thing, your voice

Written for Mini's Femslash February 2024

Day 25. Your Voice

Title: my favourite thing, your voice

Ship: Dancingdivashipping | Asuka/Yuzu

Word Count: 

Universe: Arc V

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - Careers, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Inappropriate Workplace Relationship, Fluff, Affection

   Yuzu sat in her chair nervously. Her hands in her lap, her shoulders taut. Asuka, meanwhile, was nonchalant as anything as she got Yuzu ready for her big debut.

   All her life, Yuzu had a singular dream: to sing on stage.

   When she was little, her stage had been the living room floor with an audience consisting of her father and an assortment of stuffed animals or other dolls. Her father would clap and cheer and delight and it made Yuzu feel as though she were more important than the sun.

   When she got older, she tried other stages. Other audiences. She learned to sing properly, whether it was for a school play or a similar community production, Yuzu put in her all and did her best. She was beloved by mentors for her work ethic and often the ire of those who thought they deserved the top spot more.

   Lately, ever since being accepted into the most prestigious studio for musicals and other stage productions, Yuzu felt her critics knew better than her fans. That the latter were just being nice to her, that she didn’t truly deserve her place amongst the cast. 

   She had never been more aware of her inexperience than until now. What was the old saying? Big fish in a small pond? That was exactly what Yuzu thought she was. 

   Yet, somehow, she had been made the lead role.

   Yuzu had sung her little heart out at auditions. She danced and she followed orders. She never invited any slack, she did her best and there was something more to it, as well. A sparkle, a shine, a certain je ne se quois that her fellow recruits simply lacked and yet by some miracle, she had in spades.

   It was harrowing and yet, when Yuzu got the call and saw her name on the list, her whole world changed. Completely and utterly topsy-turvy and it was all because of her mentor, she was sure.

   Enter, stage left: Tenjoin Asuka.

   Tenjoin Asuka, wow, what a woman. She who would not get on stage but instead created darlings of the stage. She was all practicality and no-nonsense, hard work all the way and yet, there was a warmth. She didn’t want to break her pupils, merely fix them. She, like all the other peer leaders, were assigned their proteges in a process of matchmaking at the beginning of the recruitment arc.

   The best got the best, or so it went allegedly. Favouritsim? Nepotism? The whole system was corrupt but when fortune favoured you, it's hard not to love.

   Thus, it all too little surprise, that Yuzu was put under Asuka’s mentorship but there was something about Asuka which had Yuzu enamoured even beyond learning Asuka’s reputation. There was just something about her aura, her helpful advice and her kind smile, her bright eyes. Everything about her amazed Yuzu and she learned so much from Asuka.

   Though Asuka was a tough love mistress.

   She put Yuzu through all the drills from the ground up. Forced her to scrap everything that she thought she knew and started over. It was literally the worst thing in the world for a girl like Yuzu who was more pizazz and talent than hard work but it was worth it in the end.

   The night before the audition, Yuzu sang once more for Asuka and it was far more special than any other barking match they had ever had. She sang until she feared she couldn’t sing at all tomorrow. Her notes carried heart and soul, her pitch was clear and perfect, her lyrics memorised and executed with admiration.

   Yuzu panted when she finished and she felt… Empty. Satisfied and full and yet empty. Devoid of breath and energy but she had done so well, it caused her shoulders to slump forward loose as all she could muster was:

   “I did it. I really did it.”

   Asuka bounded to her feet and applauded her, “I love it! I love it so much!”

   Yuzu blushed, “Aw, gee, thanks…” She couldn’t help but to be humble as she had the praise of such a wonderful woman. She felt as though she could faint.

   That was the one thing Yuzu was sure would never change about her. Wouldn’t matter how big or small the role, how fancy the crowd and how big her cheque would be, all she wanted was to sing on stage for a crowd.

   There was no crowd she wanted to please more than the ones she loved and Asuka embodied a unique niche in Yuzu’s heart. More than friends, more than a mentor and mentee. It was oddly natural despite how unnatural it was to blur such lines between colleagues but at the end of Asuka’s training of her, they were more like equals.

   At least on the inside they were equals. The outside wasn’t ready to know that their mutual fondness and requited passions weren’t strictly professional. 

   Which led to moments like this.

   Small moments where it was just them. Halcyon, redolent. Sequestered away from gossip and prying eyes.

   Backstage was quiet. Especially this far into the bowels of it and when Yuzu, leading lady, was given a changing room all to herself. She was told it wasn’t that big but it was bigger than all the changing rooms combined in the community theatres that Yuzu had performed in previously.

   The walls were cream yellow with white lattice. The desk in front of her had the cliche mirror stickered with platitudes and light bulbs which were lit up softly. More makeup than Yuzu knew what to do with was set out in front of her but luckily, she didn’t need to know what to do with it.

   That was Asuka’s job.

   Yuzu did her best to stay still as Asuka swiped and swabbed, dabbed and stabbed. Makeup was a messy process but it wasn’t one which Yuzu hated. By the end of it, she felt like a princess but those spoils came with a wracking nausea, too.

   The more she transformed into the leading lady, the more Yuzu wanted off this ride. All that was left to do was her hair and for now, Asuka was running her fingers through Yuzu’s pastel pink locks and then again with her brush. She was under strict orders from the makeup department on how yuzu was to look and Yuzu had faith that Asuka would deliver but even so.

   She was nervous and Asuka could tell.

   “You’ll do great, I promise.” Asuka whispered.

   She leaned down and lifted her hand simultaneously. She kissed the strands of Yuzu’s pink hair through her fingers, through her knuckles and closed her eyes. Yuzu was perfumed with the scents of citrus and roses, it made Asuka smile as she held this token of affection for quite some time.

   More than enough time to make Yuzu even more nervous than before but giddy, too.

   Asuka sighed then pulled back, satisfied, she smacked her lips together and emanated the confidence only a veteran star could.

   “Now, go out there and break a leg.” Asuka said. “I want to hear it, my favourite thing, your voice.”

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

It would be super cool to see your voice claims for the characters!

VOICE CLAIMS WOO!

Okay okay so this is a very long list, because I’m indecisive, and originally I would’ve loved to make this a video but alas I do not how to edit, nor do I own my computer, so it’ll have to wait

I was debating if I should of just sent my Google doc here of everything (because that doc has even more then I’m sending here) but I decided to just- copy and paste some of it so apologizes in advance for the length!

This list is very extensive and I’ve pulled voices from ALL over the place, I haven’t even watched all these shows, most of this I’ve just seen through clips and went “omg it’s perfect” so it’s a mess I’m sorry akdjsjd

Long post ahead!! (Italicized font are the ones I especially like the most)(I’ve also included links to some of these if you’ve never heard them)

UNDERTALE

Frisk

•Gregory (Over the garden wall)- Colling Dean

•Jessica (Craig of the creek)- Lucia Grace Cunningham

•Chihiro (spirited away English dub)- Daveigh Chase

•chowder (chowder)- Nicky jones

•niki yang, BMO (adventure time), Candy (gravity falls)

Flowey

•Yakko Warner (animaniacs) -Rob paulsen

•Richard Horvitz

Toriel

•Sigourney weaver

•little foots mother (land before time)

•Kala (Tarzan)- Glenn close and Kat cressida

•freya (god of war)- Danielle bisutti

Napstablook

•Sadness (Inside out)- Phyllis smith (although maybe a tad pitched down. But only a smidge)

Sans

•Herb (BoJack horseman)- Stanley Tucci

•Bob (bobs burgers)-H. Jon Benjamin

•Moist Cr1tikal (the YouTuber)

•Revtrosity (also a YouTuber)

•Red guy (DHMIS) -Joseph pelling

Papyrus

•Jacksepticeye (you all know who that is.)

•Scudworth (clone high)

•Skeletor (he-man) (I think this one speaks for itself)

•revtrosity (YouTube)

Monster kid

•Darwin Watterson (Gumball)

•Steven universe- Zach Callison (specifically young steven)

•Wybie (Coraline)- Robert Bailey Jr

Grillby

•Jack Skellington (nightmare before Christmas)- Danny elfman and Chris Sarandon

•Wirt (over the garden wall)- Elijah wood

Gaster

•Narrator (the Stanley parable) kevan Brighting

•bubo (bubo)- James dijit

•knight lautrec (dark souls)

•Sasha barbicon (titanic adventure out of time)

Undyne

•Jasper (Steven universe)- Kimberly brooks

•kuvira (legend of Korra)- Zelda Williams

•Yunan (amphibia)

Alphys

•Peridot (Steven universe) -Shelby Rabara

•Lara Jill Miller

Mettaton

•ENA (ENA)- Gabe V and Lizzie freeman

Mettaton Ex

•Alaska thunderfuck (hieeeee)

Burgerpants

•Hiccup (HTTYD)- Jay baruchel

•Randell(monsters inc)- Steve Buscemi

Asgore

•Mufasa (lion king)

•Aslan (Narnia)- Liam neeson

Asriel

•Lewis (meet the robinsons)

•kubo (kubo and the two strings)- art parkinson

•yes hear me out: Max (camp camp) -Michael Jones

Hyperdeath Asriel/Adult asriel

•Anakin (Star Wars)

Chara

•Connie (Steven universe)

•Kristofferson (fantastic mr fox)- Eric chase Anderson

•Marcy Wu (amphibia)

•Demetri (cobra Kai the karate kid saga continues)

•Ronno (Bambi)

Temmie

•Happy (Fairytail)- Tia Ballard

Mad dummy

•Blitzo (Helluva boss)- Brandon rogers

Gerson

•Yule (Mune: guardian of the moon)- (it’s the large green old guy)

That’s it for the Classic cast so far, I’ll make a seperate post this with my picks for the Environmentalshift au and other miscellaneous voices at a later time. This took forever

Maybe someday I’ll turn this into a video. So it’s easier