I think ive read every single thing on this blog i love it so much!! Lol i was hoping i could get some senerios of the phantom thieves + mishima with a gamer s/o and trying to get there attention? Thank you!
I can’t believe you enjoy my blog so much, thank you! <3 This is such a cute and fun request, so I hope you don’t if I make it a little silly lol. Enjoy!
The tapping of game controller buttons wafted throughout Leblanc’s rustic attic like the beat of a drum, with S/O as the fervent instrumentalist, their brows furrowed with a determination and concentration that was to be aspired to, particularly when performing mundane tasks, those of which Akira was currently preoccupied with. He had been fumbling with lockpicks for hours now, and one can only reiterate the same assignment until ennui begins to creep its way into the consciousness, plaguing it like a thick fog. He geared his attention toward the single person whose very presence prevented his sanity from thoroughly dilapidating.
S/O was inhabiting a universe of their own, ignorant and blissfully unaware of their current surroundings.
“You seem to be having fun.” Akira rested his cheek upon his pal, with his elbow perched on his work-desk. As expected, he received no response, only the incessant sound of tapping buttons permeating his eardrums. His glistening onyx eyes softened at the sight of S/O tensed with such vigor. How adorable they appeared to him… truly, an exemplary target for the myriad of devious antics brewing in his mind. His lips curled in a smirk, the compulsion of teasing them too tempting to refuse.
“S/O…” Akira began, a solemn undertone in his baritone voice, “I need to tell you something.” Their subsequent grunt was likened to a neanderthal, and Akira firmly bit his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing. “I… think I’m pregnant.” He waited for their reaction with bated breath, but all that greeted his ears was another primal sound.
Shot down?! Akira thought, despondence slightly dampening his frivolous mood. Th-this is nothing… I welcome the challenge!
With a resolve that blazed like a wildfire in a parched wood, Akira sauntered to the couch that S/O was seated at and plopped down beside them, snaking his arms around their waist as he nestled his keen chin on their shoulder, his balmy breath fragrant with Arabica. His gaze was plastered on the luminescent TV screen, observing S/O’s gaming ability as he whispered commentary in a low, sensual cadence meant to imply suggestiveness.
“You like this, don’t you?” Akira couldn’t possibly have anticipated S/O tensing even further; alas, that is precisely what occurred, much to his satisfaction, and although they neglected to reply verbally, their body language had spoken volumes. He proceeded with his mischievous jesting after a pause, “You’re doing so good, babe…"
S/O was exceedingly conscious of his presence now, their sudden death streak and scathing scarlet cheeks serving as irrefutable evidence. Akira’s lips brushed their ear, his balmy sigh tickling it as his arms subtly constricted their waist, tugging them closer. “Your hands are almost as good as mi-”
In a foray of embarrassment, S/O promptly mashed their lips onto his conniving pair, thereby silencing his coquettish banter and causing his ebony orbs to widen with astonishment. When S/O reared back to survey his expression, an impressive ruby was painted over his once-pallid face, his mouth failing to provide a sufficient retort as it hung open.
This in turn provoked S/O’s cheeks to ignite like candle-flame as they exasperatedly exclaimed, “W-why are you embarrassed?! I guess you can dish it but you can’t it… anyway, what did you need?”
Akira feebly adjusted his glasses in an attempt to recover. “You’re pregnant.”
“I-I mean, I’m pregnant…!”
“That’s no possible! …Wh-who’s the parent?” The couple continued riffing off of one another, both exceptionally dedicated to their roles as they snuggled among their warmth, the video game long forgotten.
“Babe! Wouldja please tell me where my sweater is? I know you were wearin’ it the other day!”
Ryuji had scrutinized every nook and cranny of the bedroom in a flimsy endeavor to reunite with his favorite sweater; however, its existence had regrettably vanished, along with the blonde’s thinning patience as he redundantly called for S/O to no avail.
“Guess I’m not the only thief in this house,” Ryuji muttered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his leg bouncing with suppressed frustration. The only solution to this predicament was to confront S/O directly, so he trudged off to commence his search for the notorious sweater burglar.
By no means was this the first instance of S/O pilfering his wardrobe - and to be fair, he often reciprocated the gesture, as he adored the familiar, pleasant fragrance that stained their clothes; he could only conjecture they felt the same as he - however, Ryuji had to draw the line, as the harsh bite of winter succeeded in permeating the air of the couple’s residence, and he certainly wasn’t about to tolerate it without the comfort of his favorite sweater.
Ryuji finally found them in the living room, intently engaged in a video game via TV, adorned with… the very sweater he had so thoroughly searched for. “You little…! I knew it.” Ryuji murmured, a trace of vexation in his voice.
Indeed, S/O seemed to be so devoted to their game that they had neglected to hear Ryuji boisterously speak next to their ear. “Hey, thief. Gimme my sweater back.” He tapped their ear as though it were a microphone. “Helloooo?”
“Quit it, I’m fighting an important boss and I’m so close to killing it,” they responded urgently, not even sparing a glance in his direction.
“Oh, I getcha…” With pure spitefulness driving his forthcoming action, he obstructed the view of the TV with his form, arms crossed as if he were a vitriolic parent. “You ready to pay attention now?”
The prominent flush that now dusted S/O’s cheeks was not the reaction he anticipated, and he stared at them with a questioning expression until they stuttered his name, their sight flitting to various areas of his body. The blonde glanced down and promptly noticed he overlooked the rationality of equipping himself with a shirt; as a result, the protruding muscles of his biceps and abdomen were fully exposed, with a keen V-shape peeking over his sweatpants.
“Oh shit, so that’s why it was so damn freezin’.” He glimpsed at S/O before pointedly reiterating, “I still want my sweater back, though. Give it.”
S/O swallowed the flustered lump in their throat as they broke out into a cold sweat, despite the crisp air around them. “W-wow, you’re so bold today, Ryuji.”
“…What are you thinkin’ in that messed up head of yours?” he sighed, stuffing his hands into his warm pockets once more prior to approaching S/O, bending at the waist to meet their gaze, the duo’s faces mere inches apart. “Are ya gonna give me my sweater, or am I gonna have to take it from ya?”
S/O began fanning their rosy face, their mind now set on teasing him as revenge for his interruption. “O-oh my, you have such a way with words…”
“Ugh, that’s it, I’m just gonna take it.” Ryuji knew better than to take their bait, as he had fallen victim to their shenanigans far too many instances throughout the years, and he had long since grown out of the bashfulness that took precedence at the start of his relationship with S/O. His hands dashed to the back of the sweater, feebly attempting to tug it up as S/O circled their arms around his bare waist, jerking him onto the couch as they cried, “Be gentle!”
“It ain’t like that, dammit…!” Ryuji quickly accepted his fate once S/O had wrapped their legs around his hips and began showering his face with playful kisses, giggling with child-like levity as they did so.
His body was completely still, compressed against theirs as they embraced him and spoke softly in his ear. “I can see why this is your favorite sweater, it’s warm and cozy, like you… sorry for taking it. You can have it back.”
The embarrassment that Ryuji thought he had rid himself of returned posthaste, heating the majority of his body as he begrudgingly lied, “Th-that ain’t gonna work on me… but I guess you can wear it, I-I’m not really cold anymore.”
“Yeah, you’ve always been pretty hot,” S/O agreed with an inflection of mischief.
“Why am I in love with such a freakin’ weirdo…? Must be cursed or somethin’.”
Despite his words, he uplifted himself to delicately press a kiss onto their forehead before snatching the nearby blanket and covering the two of them with it. The couple shortly dozed off while they whispered sweet nothings, and S/O happening upon the sudden realization that the sought-after sweater was actually theirs.
Yusuke was able to greatly empathize with S/O’s one-track mind as they indulged in their favorite pastime, as he does the same when he’s occupied with painting or sketching. As it so happened, he was actually engaged with painting for hours on end until he had just now concluded it, thus the fault rests partially on him pertaining to S/O’s blatant disregard for his presence as they wholly absorbed themself in their portable game console as a means of distracting themself as the artist worked; their lack of acknowledgment was even more understandable when he had considered the fact that he shooed them away rather dismissively while he was busy.
“S/O, I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. Shall I begin the movie?”
S/O ignored him almost entirely, save for the subtle pout that danced on their lips as they sunk further into their bean bag; although the couple had been monogamous for almost two years, that endearing pout never failed to stutter his swelling heart. As much as he’d love to admire them and ponder their splendor, he was well aware that he must rectify his earlier insensitivity. Therefore, he silently glided to S/O…
…and plopped right onto their lap.
“H-hey, what are you doing?!”
“Ah, it seems I’ve gotten your attention. To be honest, when Akira had instructed me to do this should I ever anger you, I was rather skeptical at first-”
“Y-Yusuke… your butt is digging into my thigh.” S/O uncomfortably wriggled underneath Yusuke, and he almost toppled off the bean bag chair had S/O not caught him at the last second, discarding their game system in order to do so. “Sorry!”
“Here, I’ll adjust my position a bit for your convenience.”
S/O shook their head in refusal. “It’s okay, I’ll spread my legs a little so you can sit too.”
Yusuke kissed their cheek with a fondness that could rival his adoration for art as snaked his lithe arms around their waist. “Your generosity knows no bounds, kitten.”
“It’s nothing… w-wait, I’m supposed to be ignoring you…!”
Yusuke chuckled triumphantly, his cadence registering in S/O’s ears like a euphoric melody as he explained, “Yes, it seems Akira was correct after all. Although next time I’ll be sure to wear a few more pairs of underwear for your comfort.”
S/O suppressed the loving smile that dared to threaten their lips and mustered their best neutral inflection as they offered, “I think you’ll need a few pillows.”
The artist’s eyes widened at such a far-fetched idea, which was clearly intended to be taken sarcastically. And yet: “H-how innovative…! Yes, I shall strap all the pillows I can find to my rear if I must do this again. Well done, my dear.”
S/O couldn’t take it anymore; how could they possibly maintain a disdainful countenance when their beloved was vastly more precious than all the iridescent gems in the world? They abruptly lurched at him, ensnaring his shoulders with their arms as the duo plummeted on the carpeted floor, with S/O on top of Yusuke, pasting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His arms were still wrapped around their waist, and his cheeks were kissed with a rosy-pink hue.
“…I forgive you.”
“No, that will not do, not without a proper apology. I’m sorry for my earlier impudence, and I will strive to be more attentive when you require it.”
“Yeah, me too. Let’s work on it it together, okay?” S/O’s subsequent smile was as brilliantly radiant as the morning sun, and the mirthful wink that followed their final word further twisted the arrow burrowed deep into his love-struck heart. His body moved of its own volition as he placed his palms on both of their cheeks for the purpose of descending their lips to his. After they parted, the couple flushed and averted their gazes as though they had just exchanged their first kiss, although neither of them were in any rush to alter their positions. The only commodity that motivated the two to stir was Sweeney Todd, which was the aforementioned movie Yusuke had borrowed from Haru.
As such, they spent the duration of the night snuggled on the couch together with a bowl of freshly made popcorn warming their legs, the accompaniment of various musical numbers echoing throughout the living room.
Mishima was so incredibly centralized on his own video games - intermittently diverting his attention toward screenwriting his Phantom Thief of Hearts documentary - naturally, he had no indication that S/O was additionally participating in the activity until he finally emerged from his office, his joints popping like firecrackers from the effort.
“Jeez, I’m not that old yet,” he murmured dejectedly, his mood already being soured due to the myriad defeats he had suffered while cooperating in a multiplayer online game.
Sometimes being a healer… is worse, he figured, his mind as gloomy as the dark circles shadowed under his bloodshot eyes. Mishima had really rather hoped S/O would be available, as he sought nothing more than the solace of their arms to nullify his ample rage and disappointment; alas, they were comfortably seated on a cushion in front of the TV, fully engrossed in their console game. He wordlessly sulked behind them and plummeted to the carpeted floor, lacing his arms around their waist as he pouted.
“I got my ass handed to me big time. Snipers show absolutely no mercy,” he mumbled to himself, since S/O certainly wasn’t listening. “Hey,” he complained, then promptly sighed. “Fine, ignore me… it doesn’t bother me one bit.”
Not even a minute passed when Mishima commenced rocking side-to-side like a metronome, chanting S/O’s name in a feeble attempt to draw their attention. “S/O, please love me. S/O, I’m an eighteen year old looking for a good time and I like long walks on the beach. S/O. Hey, S/O.” Mishima fragmented his sentences by plastering kisses on their neck, which certainly captured their attention as evidenced by their flustered countenance.
“Yuuki… you’re being ridiculous.”
“Sorry, I just need some comfort right now. Losing twenty-seven matches in a row really emasculates a guy.”
S/O shrugged as they pivoted their head away from him to conceal the playful smirk on their face. “Go take a long walk on the beach and have a good time.”
If it weren’t for his low spirits, Mishima would have laughed with the utmost amusement. “S/O… do you want me to die? Is this my punishment for taking the last yogurt cup you had?”
The entertainment in S/O’s eyes vanished entirely and was replaced by a cold, desolate void as they slowly turned toward their boyfriend. “…That was you?”
The sheer terror Mishima felt in his core nearly provoked the remainder of his spirits to astral project into another plane of existence. “C-crap…! Um, I-I’ll make it up to you, babe, promise.”
S/O narrowed their eyes at him before their emotionless facade shattered, reverting to their former levity as they proclaimed, “It’s okay, I was saving it for you anyway. I’ll get extra next time, in your favorite flavors.”
“…You’re an angel,” he commented softly, his eyes wet with bliss as he nuzzled S/O’s shoulder.
“Yuuki… are you crying?”
“That’s what happens when you look at the sun.”
“…Does that make you my moon?”
Mishima chuckled affectionately, fondly kissing their shoulder as he stated, “Yeah, I guess it does.”