#THAT EXPLAIN WHY HE WAS WITH AN SUIT THOUGH

[saltymarshmall0w]

So, Pre-robin Tim definitely wrote self-insert fanfiction about being Robin.

Like, a full story 400k plot starting with Jason graduating from being Robin and onto something bigger and better to the next Robin's journey, which ends up being modeled after Tim's life.

At first, some of Tim's most compelling plots are ripped straight from real missions, mostly using info the public doesn't know about.

Then, after YEARS of constantly updating this fic and being known as THE Batman Fanfic due to it's length and constant uploads, Tim is in the middle of writing a new chapter and just. stops.

"What am I even doing?"

Because at this point he's been Robin for almost a year and he's still fantasizing about being a part of a family he is already a part of.

(is he though? It's been a year and they barely acknowledge each other out of the suit, and at the end of the day he still goes home to an empty mansion)

EVEN BETTER

Five years later, one of the bats dredges the fic up from the deep dark corners of the web.

The others endlessly tease Tim for his writing as a 9-13 year-old

(they keep reading and discover between the analytical jargon and awkward dialogue a lot of worrying details that give a better peak into the traumas of his childhood. The littlest of scenes explains why Tim treats himself the way he does.)

Jason, despite initially being one of the biggest teasers, unironically loves it because little Tim's portrayal of the second Robin grew up to be eerily similar to how Jason is now. He would never say it to Tim's face, but despite (or maybe because of) being a literary nerd, he reads every chapter up until it was abandoned.

The B plot of this all is, of course, Bruce finds the fic and thinks TIM is the one with a stalker and gets really concerned about the data released in the fic.

[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student Pt.5

Masterlist!

(Fem reader, suggestive, kissing, smut, female!receiving, etc. Not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

“She was talking about professor Sturniolo right?” Lizzy asks me hesitantly, I shrug. “Yeah, I’m not bothered though.” I lie unbelievably. “Pfft,” she laughs slightly, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not bothered? You’re literally gripping your skirt so tightly.” I look down as the fabric is clenched in my fists. I let go and laugh slightly, “I guess I do care a little bit.” I sigh.

Chris’ POV

I type up on my laptop plans for the next lesson with y/n’s class, gotta make it easier because I don’t want y/n to struggle. “Mr Sturniolo?” I look up, a woman in a fitted suit jacket with a pencil skirt is staring down at me with her arms crossed. “Uh yeah?” I reply in a confused tone. “I’m gonna need you to come with me please.” She states.

“Okay.. where are we going?” I ask slowly. “The Principal’s office, an anonymous note has told us something we need to talk to you about.” She keeps her eyes forward as she walks quickly ahead. Oh fuck.. this isn’t about what happened at break? Nobody else was in there nobody could’ve heard us, or seen us..

“Everything alright Mr Sturniolo?” She doesn’t look back. “Oh, yeah.. call me Chris if you want.” I try to soften the tone in the air. “No.. I keep it professional.” We arrive at the Principals door and she opens it.

“Hello Christopher.” The principal smiles softly before dropping it. “Take a seat.. thank you Andrea.” The lady leaves the room. “Why am I in here?” I ask, trying to play dumb. “Do you value your job Mr Sturniolo?” He leans on the desk and peers at me from above his glasses. “Yeah of course, I love my job.” I smile.

“Do you respect the workplace and its rules and guidelines?” He asks again staring into my eyes. “Yes I do.” I nod, he grabs something from his drawer and places it in front of me. A mirror. “You seem to have a little.. a lot of things on your neck, do you not?” I look in the mirror at my neck, which is plastered in hickies.

My face drops, “Oh uh.. I had my girlfriend over last night I didn’t know-” I start to explain.. lying obviously. “It’s okay Mr Sturniolo, I don’t need personal details but make sure to cover it up, this is a first warning so you aren’t in trouble.” He smiles softly.

I sigh softly, “I’m sorry.” I scratch the back of my head, “it’s alright, us men like our women but sometimes we have to hide it.” He chuckles and I awkwardly chuckle back. I get up to leave and the principal gives me a little wave. I quickly rush back to the gym and throw on my jacket, which almost covers all of the marks.

It’ll have to do.

Y/n’s POV

I pack up my stuff and leave the sociology classroom, “I fell asleep.” Lizzy smiles as we walk to the exit. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” I sarcastically joke, she let out a few snores causing people around her to laugh. “Did I snore loudly?” She asks nervously, “meh, it was like semi loud.” I laugh and she groans in embarrassment.

“Right I gotta go, my mom needs me,” Lizzy rolls her eyes, “my aunt and uncle are visiting.” She sighs. “Does that mean?” I start to say but she finishes my sentence. “My annoying little cousin is here too.”

Lizzys cousin Theo is like 10 years old and the most annoying kid ever, he will tell his parents any gossip Lizzy says while she’s on the phone, he will constantly go through her stuff and he told Liz’s mom about my secret boyfriend 2 years ago and then my dad found out.. wasn’t fun.

I start to walk home as I get a text from Matt. “I have 2 hours where Chris and Nick aren’t here, at 5. Come over.” I smile and reply, “okayy.” I put my phone away and start to walk home faster. I hear footsteps running behind me, Mason. “Hey.” He smiles, breathing heavily. “How far did you run?” I laugh slightly.

“Just from the bench down there to.. here.” His cheeks are slightly flushed. “I thought you were an athlete, how are you out of breath from that?” I scoff. “I am an athlete y/n, I just didn’t stretch.” He rolls his eyes. “Why are you walking with me?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh I am meeting my friends this way to walk home.”

“What are you doing in like an hour?” He asks me, breaking the silence. I look up at him with confusion. “Why?” I hesitantly ask. “I dunno if you wanna like get coffee or something.” He shrugs. He’s got nice intentions but no.

“I’m busy sorry.” I sigh, trying to act sympathetic. “Oh.. no worries, it was worth asking.” He smiles. About 10 minutes pass and I’m about to turn down my street, “I thought you were meeting your friends?” I tilt my head, “yeah I am, in the field down there.” He points down the main road and smiles softly. “Oh okay, this is my street so I’ll see ya.” I smile back.

“Bye y/n!” He calls as I walk away. He’s a sweet person but I just can’t find him attractive, hopefully he finds someone else to like. I walk through my front door to see my dad laying on the couch with a Pepsi in his hand watching sports or something. “Hey dad.” I smile, “hey pumpkin, how was your day?”

Pumpkin is the nickname he’s called me for the past 12 years, because when I was 6 around Halloween we went to a pumpkin patch with mom and I was running and fell face first into a pile of pumpkins and it went all over me. I cried but he thought it was funny to call me pumpkin after that. Now I find it a sweet nickname but I hated it when I was a kid.

“It was okay, I’m going out in like an hour.” I tell him, he nods. “No worries, stay safe though.” I walk upstairs to my bedroom and lay on my bed, spreading my limbs out on it. I take a deep breath before going in the shower.

After my shower I dry my hair and get dressed into a basic fit, I want to be comfy bc I know what’s gonna go down. I do some makeup, not too much, and I go downstairs to leave. “Bye dad!” I call as I leave, “see you later y/n!” I hear from the kitchen. I walk to his house, as it’s only 15 minute walk away, although last time I took a cab.

I finally arrive at Matts house and I see the expensive car is gone. I knock the door hoping Chris and Nick are not there. Luckily Matt opens in and smiles when he sees me, “I’m guessing either Nick or Chris drive the Porsche?” I smirk, “yeah Chris spent a stupid amount of money on it, I drive it sometimes too.” He explains as we walk in.

We sit on the couch, “Deja vu.” I laugh softly, “yeah, except this time I won’t freak out.” He chuckles, “prove it.” I taunt him with a smirk, he tilts his head and grins before leaning in and kissing me, this time feels more passionate.

His hand finds place at the back of my head and the other one on my thigh. My hands entangle in his hair as he pushes me back on the couch slightly, deepening the kiss. His tongue explores my mouth and I let out a soft moan as his hand rubs my upper thigh. He breaks the kiss partially to say something.

“Let’s go upstairs, don’t wanna make a mess on my couch.” He breathes out. I nod and go to stand up but he picks me up like a princess and carries me up the stairs, walking into his room which has a comforting vibe to it. Before I can take it all in he throws me down onto the satin sheets.

“Bet Chris didn’t do this did he?” Matt smirks as he slides my shorts off pulling me to the edge of the bed. “No, it was different because he had to stand and hold me the whole ti-” I start speaking but Matts hand covers my mouth. “I don’t need to hear how my brother fucked you okay?” He looks at me before removing my panties quickly.

He kneels at the end of the bed, his hot breath fanning against my inner thigh as he moves my legs onto his shoulders. “Gonna make you feel good, treat you for being such a good girl in class.” He peppers kisses along my thighs closer and closer to my heat as I squirm. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this with him, he’s had a change of heart now that he knows Chris fucked me first. He’s gonna make this a competition between them I know it.

He starts to kitten lick my folds to tease me, I whine pushing towards him for more. He grabs my hip with one hand, pushing it against the bed to stop me moving. Without warning he dips his tongue inside of me before swirling it around my clit. My back arches off the bed as I moan out.

He grabs both my thighs and pulls me closer, his tongue lapping at my heat. “Fuck Matt..” my hands travel down to his hair as I grip it tightly. He continues to swish and swirl his tongue around me, occasionally dipping it into me causing my back to arch and my grip on his hair to tighten.

“Matt.. I can’t.. I’m gonna cum.. please..” I whimper as his pace doesn’t slow. He hums against me, the vibration hitting my clit in the right way which results in me reaching my high and coming undone. He licks up the rest of my arousal before bringing his face up towards me, I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and breathe heavily.

He leans to kiss me, my arousal still on his chin and I turn my head away, “wipe that off ya lips before kissing me.” I chuckle softly, “you don’t wanna taste yourself? Hm?” He continues to try and put his face by mine, teasing and joking around. “Definitely not, it’s gross.” I squirm, “I disagree, I could have my head between your thighs every day.” He smirks, lifting his shirt to wipe the arousal from his mouth.

“Will you kiss me now?” He grabs my cheeks and brings my face to face his. I nod and he pushes his lips to mine his tongue instantly exploring my mouth, I bite his lip softly and he groans. “Fuck I need you.. to feel you.” He whispers lowly. “Please do..” I whine softly, “You’re gonna take it like the good girl you are.. yeah?” He asks, looking me in the eyes with lust.

“Yes.. of course.. definitely.. I will.” I speak rapidly, needing to feel him inside of my walls. He starts to unbuckle his belt, not breaking the eye contact. He begins to pull down his pants but then.. Slam.

Both of us look towards the bedroom door and back at eachother, “that was a car door right?” I whisper and Matt nods, he checks his watch. “It’s 6pm they said they’d be back at 7.. shit.” He re does his pants back up and I sit up, “get your clothes on.” He throws my panties and shorts at me. His entire tone and body language has changed and now it’s more tense.

“Jeez okay..” I put my clothes back on, I feel gross he didn’t clean me up or anything but I can’t go to the bathroom because they’re home. “What do I do?” I whisper, “just shut up a sec okay?” He snaps, “oh.” I sigh and sit back on the bed. “Matt?” I hear Chris call from downstairs, “stay here.” He spoke softly and I nod, “good girl.” He mumbles before leaving the room and closing it behind me.

I grab my phone from his dresser and open it, 4 missed calls from Lizzy? What the fuck? I text Lizzy, “hey everything okay?” She replies almost instantly, “No. But it’s fine now, no thanks to you though.” Fuck. “I’m pretty busy right now Liz I’m sorry.” I would help her right now but I don’t know what’s happening with me and Matt.

She leaves me on opened. Great, I don’t even know what’s happening or what her problem is. Matt comes back in and grabs my arm, quickly leading me downstairs and through the front door, “see you on Monday.” He whispers flicking his hand so I leave shutting the door behind me. So rude, I thought he was actually giving a fuck about me. It’s raining too, I’m gonna get hypothermia.

I turn to walk down the street away from his house and I hear someone call my name, I look up quickly to see.. Chris?? “Y/n? Why are you by my house?” He asks walking closer, my eyes widen in fear. “Uh.. I was.. fuck, I don’t know.” I lie looking down at my feet. “You stalking me?” He chuckles, I laugh lightly and shake my head.

“No, not that.” I sigh, “it’s cold and raining, you wanna come in for a warm drink or something?” He smiles lightly, I can’t go back in there especially if I just got kicked out by Matt. I thought Chris got home with Nick? “I can’t sorry, I’m going home.” I smile softly, “oh okay.” He looks disappointed. “You were in my house weren’t you?” He steps closer so we are inches apart.

“What no! Why would I be-” I go to like but he cuts me off, “you were with Matt. I know because I heard you shuffling around upstairs when he came downstairs to greet us.” He spoke sternly. “If you were inside then how are you out here?” I ask, looking up at him. “I watched you leave from my bedroom window, then I snuck downstairs and got out quickly to see you.” He sighs.

“So you were stalking me?” I chuckle, “you were the one inside of my house,” he laughs softly, “about that, what were you and Matt doing?” He asks me, but I know he knows the answer. I tilt my head at him, “we didn’t fuck.” I cross my arms, “I never said you did.” He smirks, “I’d rather not go into details.” I scoff.

“Mhm, he wouldn’t have been able to fuck you as good as I can.. right?” He leans down slightly and I shrug. “Right?” He asks again more aggressively. I smirk, “sure whatever you want to believe.” I go to turn around to walk away. “Let me drive you home, you’re gonna get wet ma.” The nickname causes me to turn quickly, “I already am.” I smirk, “in what way?” He tilts his head.

“Not the way you’re thinking, that’s inappropriate Mr Sturniolo.” I bite my lip lightly, “I’ll bring my car around, so Matt doesn’t see you.” He nods and rushes around the corner, the tension was so strong but the rain is getting worse I can’t think about anything other than my hands freezing off. The Porsche drives around the corner and pulls up, I open the passenger door and get in.

“Thanks.” I breathe out, he presses the seat heaters on and leans in the seat behind him and pulls out one of his jackets. “Put that on, you should wear it to school on Monday.” He smirks, “it’s a college not a school.” I scoff, “same thing, and I can take the jacket back if you’re gonna be ungrateful.” He looks at me before laughing slightly.

“You know.. I should be mad that you were with my brother but for some reason, I don’t give a shit.” He adds, turning on music, “Maybe it’s because you’ve got a bigger-” I stop myself, “a bigger??” He asks, “Ego.” I huff. “Sure, sure.” He smiles.

He pulls over for a moment “Wait where do you live? I just realised I don’t know where I’m going.” He looks at me, “we don’t need to go to my house right now.” I grin, “what’re you thinking?” He tilts his head, “I think we should go for a drive and chill out.” I smile.

“Does chilling out include you riding me in the backseat or..” he laughs and I do too, “Chris!” I say and pause for a moment. “Maybe.. just keep driving.” I add. He smiles widely and starts to drive again..

A/n: I haven’t written this in a while but omg I’m excited to continue, I’m pretty busy with school atm but I will try to update asap. Also sorry for edging y’all with this.. why am I kinda team Chris tho 😖 and Matt is kinda an asshole sorry not sorry

@blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @bueckerslover @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life @evie-sturns @milasturniolo @jaxyy219 @mattsturniolosbae @h3arts4harry @littlebookworm803 @realqueenofpepsi @elsxz1 @jnkvivi

[realcube]

ASKING THEM TO CHOOSE A BATHING SUIT FOR YOU

characters ♡ (all aged up) midoriya, todoroki, kirishima & kaminari

request for ♡ anon

tws ♡ implied sexual content - minors dni!

IZUKU MIDORIYA

♡ so flustered by the request

♡ no matter the circumstances

♡ like y'all could be going out for a couple weeks or you could be married for ten years with children, homie still doesn't know how to act

♡ and he is so apprehensive to ask why you want him to pick it out for you because on one hand he's curious about the implications and wants to explore that further but the LAST thing he wants is too ask too many questions for you to then turn around and be like "you know what, nevermind. i'll just buy it myself."

♡ so he will try to get information out of you covertly

♡ "well i think you'd look great in anything.. maybe something floral. unless you are dressing for a specfic occasion?????? 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ "you know i like the red one you have. you should wear that if i get to see you in it 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ "oh you like the orange one? ... orange like the colours of pro hero dynamight ? 🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ he somehow manages to spiral and come to the conclusion you are having an affair

♡ but then he remembers he's with the most faithful partner in the world and moves on

♡ he also so believes that this is like.. a relationship milestone

♡ like "omg we are dressing each other now ow 🤪"

♡ if it turns out y'all are going to the beach or pool or something he will ask you to choose his bathing suit too

♡ but yeah he just thinks its so sweet you let him choose what you wear and he gets a strange (temporary) power trip from it

♡ whenever you get changed next he'll silently be praying you let him pick your outfit for you

♡ the power trip doesn't last long though because when he actually has to pick the outfit he is lowkey kinda nervous especially if you are gonna wear it out in public

♡ he is so afraid of making the 'wrong' choice

♡ like he doesn't want to be held responsible if you go out in a ugly fit and people give you funny looks

♡ overthinks asf

♡ it takes him like 10 minutes of pinterest surfing and coordinating to decide and eventually he goes with the same bathing suit you wear almost every time

♡ if you guys are staying indoors though, he is too respectful to say it aloud so he simply blabbers on for ages in hopes you get the hint

♡ "uh well i mean me personally i just don't see the point of going to all the effort to put on a whole new bathing suit after taking your clothes off if it's just going to get wet anyway i mean it's just a waste of washing machine power, pro hero wash doesn't risk his life everyday for people to just throw things in the laundry when they don't need to , right —"

♡ there's more

♡ like he goes on for ages but you pick up what he trying to say after two sentences

♡ and you give the man what he wants 🤷‍♀️

SHOTO TODOROKI

♡ so confused

♡ like he is genuinely baffled; he just doesn't understand why you would want him to choose for you and why, out of all the outfits you wear, it's your swimwear you want him to pick

♡ he is going to ask a million questions before he even tries and i wear he's not doing it to be difficult or defiant , he is just so incredibly curious and WANTS to know what thought process led you to entrusting him with your ootd

♡ you explain that it's just a cute thing you wanted to try, so you could see what colours and designs he prefers on you

♡ he still doesn't fully get it because he's made it inexplicably clear by now that he loves the way you look in virtually anything — you could have rolled up to your wedding in crocs and he would've still been completely enamoured. in fact he'd fall for you even harder for making practical footwear choices.

♡ (not that he's a fan of holes in shoes , he thinks it defeats the purpose. but he'd find something positive about them if you were to wear them)

♡ but after being with you for so long and being a pro hero in an evolving society , he has learned to be open-minded and entertains your idea

♡ he is naturally quite stylish , so it likely goes into your wardrobe and picks something very understated and minimalistic

♡ anything you own that happens to all be one colour; a boring colour too like beige, grey or off-white

♡ even if it happens to be a skimpy piece he truly pays no mind to it, he's more focussed on the design and colour (or lack thereof)

♡ so likely he'll end up handing you a two-piece that is essentially just two pieces of thread on a hanger , and of course you will think there are implications behind that and start eyeing him 👀

♡ but having been married to him for x years, you recognise the blank expression he wears when there is not a thought in his head and you quickly realise that he wasn't suggesting anything by handing you such a provocative outfit

♡ he just likes the colour and fabric lol

♡ "it will really bring out your eyes"

♡ (doesn't know what that means; heard someone say it on tv once and now it's his go-to fashion compliment) (what he really means is "fashion fashion style bags purse clothes purse")

♡ it's only when you actually put it on and show him when he realises what he has done lmao

♡ standing there and staring at you like 🙂 "cute. where's the rest of it?"

♡ it looked a lot bigger when he was holding it and he didn't take into consideration how it stretches

♡ tries to subtly get you to change without admitting its revealing

♡ "very pretty. but i heard jean shorts are in season, why not try those?"

♡ "oh— is that a loose thread? hmph. i think you'll have to throw bathing suit away since it's ruined."

♡ "it's nice but i doesn't bring out your eyes like i originally thought. more so your chin."

♡ tbh he does not want to even admit to himself he has a problem with you wearing revealing clothes because there is no rational reason as to why he should have an issue with it but he just does and it hurts his brain

♡ even if other guys are checking you out that shouldn't matter bc he knows you're loyal and would never cheat so WHY does the thought make him want to freeze an entire city ???

♡ anyway you can tell just by looking at him that he's conflicted and fighting internal battles so you put him out of his misery by just changing into a different one

♡ (after that chin comment tho , he did NOT deserve your compassion 😞)

♡ once he has successfully styled you into a cute outfit he feels so proud of himself lk??

♡ also he still has a hard time understanding why you wanted him to pick your bathing suit 'just because' so in his head he rationalises that dressing each other is just something all long-term couples do and you guys have reached a relationship milestone

♡ similar to izuku except todoroki takes it WAY more seriously

♡ like randomly when he is getting ready, he'll ask you to pick the tie he is going to wear or even his shirt

♡ and if he is getting ready in the morning and you're not awake yet , he will literally make you help him plan his outfit the night before

♡ even for super formal pro hero related events where he is likely being styled by professionals, he will ask you to choose his cufflinks or belt or something like that

♡ just so he has a piece of you on him at all times ( besides his wedding band ofc 🤪)

♡ and yeah this isn't a temporary thing either. unless you ask him to stop, he will be asking you for your input on his clothing for the forseeable future

♡ he'll even start asking other people ( who he knows are married ) stuff like "what did your wife choose on your outfit?" or "oh nice watch, did your husband pick it out for you?" and he gets weird looks every time

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

♡ he's probably the most normal about it

♡ like he doesn't see it as any sort of test so he isn't nervous or confused

♡ and he is able to aknowledge that it is only an outfit for one day so even if it isn't his best work, at least he tried ??

♡ but yeah he thinks it's sooo cute that you want him to pick your bath suit , makes him feel like he's putting his own mark on you (in a wholesome way) and he finally gets to dress you in his favourite colour

♡ RED!!!

♡ if you don't have any red swimwear he will fr go out and buy you some because that is all he wants to see you in lol and he would LOVE to match with you

♡ red bikini + red truncks combo question mark

♡ if you don't own any red or you don't want to match with him , he'll probably choose a top and bottom from two different sets and pair them together and think he is some sort of style icon for pairing neon pink and sage green but in reality it such a crime against fashion

♡ but you wear it anyway just to see the big dumb smile of his face when you walk out wearing his "creation"

♡ oh and be warned that after you let him style you once he is going to be obsessed with giving his input on your outfits for at least the next six months or until you tell him to stop

♡ it'll be like "kiri, i'm gonna wear this white blouse to the dinner tomororw. does it look better with these black trousers or this brown skirt?"

♡ you'll show him the two options and he'll STILL reply, "hm, have you considered jorts ?"

DENKI KAMINARI

♡ wants to be nonchalant about it sooo bad but is internally screaming dancing and doing backflips

♡ like he is THIS close to blowing a fuse when you ask him

♡ and like you've been married to him for this long so you knew it would drive him crazy and that is exactly what you wanted mwahaha

♡ yeah he tries to play this off casually like a cool , reserved guy who couldn't care less

♡ but we both know that is NOT who he is , in fact that is the furtherest thing away from what he is in this moment

♡ "i- i get to choose?" he stammers, pointing at himself before he clears his throat. plastering a confident grin on his face, "yeah, duh. i'm your husband of course i'm going to choose what bathing suit you wear."

♡ pro hero chargebolt recently saved a politican from a very life threatening fajita incident so naturally your household has come into a lot of money and thus had a pool built in your back garden so he assumed you wanted to take it for a test run

♡ you've both been so busy with work that the pool has been finished for over a week and neither of you have tried it out yet

♡ so he saunters over to the warbrode and shoves his arm in and rummages around

♡ less like he is sifting through clothes; more like he is pulling out a prize from that mystery bag filled with random treasures at the carnival

♡ after a couple seconds of searching, his face lights up as though he has found the perfect outfit for you

♡ he pulls out his arm; lo and behold he has his hand in the air with his fist wrapped around... nothing

♡ literally nothing

♡ he still looks at the air where a bathing suit SHOULD be with wide eyes and an impossible grin, "this would look great on you !! you've not worn it in so long. try it on!!"

♡ he throws it towards you and of course you 'catch it' despite there being nothing there because you are plenty familiar with his antics and have learned by now exactly how to deal with them

♡ you 'hold it' in your hands and nod along, "yes! i forgot about this old thing. i'll go put it on right now." you muse, walking out and towards the bathroom, "i'm sure the dads at the beach will love this one."

♡ denki nods confidently, chuffed with how awesome and fly he is .. until he caught that last part

♡ "(Y/N) WAIT !!!"

[tafeekafee]

⌛🐿️ I’m not okay

Title from NOT OKAY (ATEEZ)

Summary: Filming for the "NOT OKAY" M/V overwhelms Hongjoong. Wooyoung senses his hyung needs some comfort and tlc.

CW: mental health issues, mentions of trauma

Sickie/Whumpee: Hongjoong Caretaker: Wooyoung (+ Seonghwa)

„The cameras are here and there. We’ll monitor from the outside and you will be able to hear us over the speaker”, the director said. Hongjoong nodded, already not a fan of the metal claws trapping his hand. For the filming of their new Japanese single “Not okay” they had decided to focus their M/V on their real fears and the trauma from their lore. Why that meant Hongjoong needed to have his hand in this claw, he didn’t know.

With the ideas of lore and trauma in mind, they had decided to have Jongho trapped on a hospital bed – a reflection of his injuries which the maknae had suggested himself. 

Wooyoung’s stage fright and anxiety on how he was received by society – something that had been a problem for some time. 

Mingi’s anxiety and his escape through music which he had mastered very well during filming the day before. 

San’s problems with stalking and his instability before he found a home with them, his anger and fear after losing his grandfather. 

Yeosang not being free, being controlled by his parents – which also was a mirror of his past though their relationship was now better than ever. 

Yunho had protested using any real trauma so they had focused on his lore of losing his brother, which in hindsight Hongjoong was not sure was so smart, knowing Yunho now daily talked with him over phone. 

Seonghwa being stopped from doing what he wanted by his own fears and not having time for himself – for their oldest it was a very vague concept and Hongjoong assumed that Seonghwa had not felt ready to show everything to ATINY. They hadn’t spoken much about it personally.

For Hongjoong himself, in alignment with their lore he was left behind by his family, trapped and alone.

Naturally, their brilliant idea was to have Hongjoong be alone while filming, a sort of method acting if anything. The mirrors and phone screens, as well as the metal claw could easily reflect loneliness and abandonment, make him think he was actually alone. Leaving him alone without the camera crew in the room that in itself was very small alone was the most logical approach. He supposed it would make the filming much more realistic if he didn’t actually have to act - it wasn’t his strongest suit after all.

“Lie down on the floor”, the director explained over the speakers and Hongjoong complied. “Just look a mix of scared and entranced. The phone will start flashing in hana, dul, set!”

Though he had been warned, Hongjoong had not quite expected the white screen blinking wildly at him to be so bright. Instinctively he closed his eyes, in the same moment knowing he had ruined the shot. “Sorry”, he called out. Over the speakers, the director counted down again.

Hongjoong lost count of how often the words “HOME”, “ALONE”, “MISSING”, “MOTHER”, “FAMILY”, “BEHIND” and “AFRAID” flashed into his face. The director was nice, he supposed, but very perfectionistic. As he finally called a halt to filming Hongjoong’s eyes kept hurting, imaginary lights flickering in and out. Already his head started to hurt and he hoped the lights would not trigger a migraine. He didn’t have time for that.

“Hongjoong-ssi, that was very well done. We’ll take a short break and then resume with the next scene. Unless you need to use the bathroom, I’d like to ask you to stay in there to get into the feeling, okay?”

“I’m okay for now”, Hongjoong replied and sat on the floor to wait. He hated method acting, in a way. He knew he wasn’t alone, was just in a small room for the filming but everything seemed so far away. There was a deep silence in the room, the only thing Hongjoong could hear was his own breathing. It was not a nice place to be. 

Also, despite Hongjoong having been on camera so often since even before debut, this felt weird, knowing that he was being watched while he couldn’t see anything outside of the room. To take his mind off the matter, he decided to look around the room. He was, after all, interested in how the M/V would turn out. 

The room was built in a way that resembled an abandoned hotel room or something close to that. It was really small. Behind Hongjoong was a mirror that didn’t help make the room feel bigger, it just made everything more confusing.. Hongjoong wasn’t claustrophobic, nevertheless the little space made him uneasy.

Hongjoong sighed, uneasy with knowing the other members were somewhere else. He wished he could be able to at least see one of them to reassure himself that he wasn’t alone. It might just be a small, separate room at the filming location he was in but any other human could be kilometers away for all he could tell. 

Kilometers away, just like his family. 

Hongjoong swallowed. When they wrote the concepts he had never once imagined that he would feel affected by the scenes. After all they were just filming an M/V with content from their lore. Yet Hongjoong had to admit to himself that it hit a bit too close to home for comfort.

The captain hadn’t seen his parents in nearly half a year, his own schedules too much and not at all matching with his parents’ work times. His last meeting with Bumjoong had also been months ago. Sure, Hongjoong knew that other idols hadn’t seen their families in much longer (some of his members included). But still, he missed them. He always told all the members that it wasn’t a contest who saw his family the least.

It didn’t make it any easier for him but Hongjoong was happy that he was so close to his own family. His parents had always supported him with what he wanted for himself, never pressuring him to follow a career he didn’t want for himself. Hongjoong loved them with all his heart and he knew they loved him that way too.

He remembered his appa’s message from Idol Radio, which back then had nearly made him cry on camera. He had been able to push the tears back then, unlike other times in ATEEZ’s own content. Right now, he felt a sudden longing to just call his parents and beg them to come to Seoul just for a day. He wanted his eomma to hug him like she did when he was a child and have his appa speak with him in person.

Sometimes being an adult scared Hongjoong. He was painfully aware of everything that could happen while he was away, unlike a child who trusted that everything would always be okay. Back when he was younger he had never been able to imagine living one day without seeing his parents. He’d been the kid that would never stay for sleepovers and while he certainly had outgrown that, he still had had to learn that his parents were living their own lives and were not just his parents. They had their own careers, their own lives and while, if they could, they certainly would drop everything to help him that was just not a realistic expectation.

Sometimes it felt like being an idol never was enough payment for all the time he lost with his family. He had left home when he was a teenager, spent all his time in the studio with EDEN.

It had hurt to realize that when his dreams of being a musician had clashed with staying home in Anyang. Being the only trainee at KQ for six months had been lonely and he had lost count of how many nights he had cried himself to sleep during that time.

Sometimes it felt like some of the managers who had been there since the start were more of his parents than his actual parents, considering they knew much more about his life than his parents did. Sure, he had his members, his found family, but the responsibility of being a leader and a hyung was something he didn’t necessarily want all the time. But Hongjoong was a hyung, not the maknae he was at home. Quickly he had had to turn from being a comfort-seeker to being a comfort-giver. His own need for comfort had been pushed back.

Not that he blamed his dongsaengs, he could never. It was just hard seeing them get what he wanted and (most often in Jongho’s case, but Yunho and Yeosang were culprits often enough) reject it.

Hongjoong closed his eyes and shook himself, hoping to get out of his head or, even better yet, get to start filming again. But nobody came, not even a voice over the loudspeakers.

Instead, the words repeated themselves in his mind.

HOME

ALONE

MISSING

MOTHER

FAMILY

BEHIND

AFRAID

His hands started to tremble.

He was never home, neither with his parents nor his brother nor with his members.

He often was alone, at the studio or now he was alone trapped in the room.

He was missing his mother, his family, everyone he had left behind.

He was afraid.

Afraid of failure. Afraid of losing his family. Afraid of not being good enough. Afraid that one bad decision, one bad song would make them lose ATINY. Afraid that he could lose his members. Afraid of making the smallest mistake. Afraid of his members leaving for the military or for the opportunity for a single career – things that had ruined his sunbaes before.

Tears filling his eyes made him finally be able to snap out of the slump he was falling into.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Not on a film set with a renowned director. Not while - for all he knew - somebody could be watching him through the cameras. He took a deep breath and managed to calm himself down quickly enough.

But he couldn’t stop the shaking of his hands for the rest of the filming session.

⌛

Wooyoung was worried. They had just come home from filming the last bits of their M/V and Hongjoong had disappeared into his room the moment they had come home. Sure, the captain could be just tired, they had been filming for the past three days straight. Today had mostly just been their solo scenes, which for easier transport had been done in dorm arrangements. Seonghwa, San and Mingi had been allowed to go home in the afternoon, the lucky bastards. Yunho and Yeosang had left two hours later. Only Wooyoung, Jongho and Hongjoong had been required to stay back until ten in the evening. Wooyoung was a bit jealous but also very happy for the other members.

Hongjoong’s filming had taken the longest and Wooyoung had felt really bad for his hyung who had been forced to stay in the separate area for over six hours with only one bathroom break. Wooyoung was glad he himself at least had been surrounded by the dance crew, so he wasn’t so alone. Jongho’s filming had also not taken too long, the maknae a born actor.

Speaking off, Jongho walked into the kitchen just at that moment, shrugging on his jacket. “I’m going out to eat with Mingi-hyung and will probably stay the night at their dorm.”

“Alright, have fun”, Wooyoung said with a small wave. Then Jongho disappeared and he was once again alone in the kitchen. He supposed he could make dinner for himself and maybe Hongjoong. Maybe it would cheer his hyung up, he had been very quiet on the way back. His whole demeanor had basically screamed that something was wrong and he didn’t want Hongjoong to be alone when he was feeling off.

Wooyoung wasn’t quite sure what was going on with Hongjoong but he had a duty as a dongsaeng to check on his hyung. Even if said hyung was emotionally constipated and would probably act like he was fine. He could act as if he was fine while in company and with good, home-made food too.

He walked up to their bedrooms, Hongjoong’s room at the end of the hallway and separated from his and Jongho’s by the bathroom. Just as he was about to knock and ask what Hongjoong wanted to eat, he heard a quiet noise come through the closed door.

Was that? No, it couldn’t be. But it sounded suspiciously like Hongjoong was crying?

For a moment, Wooyoung faltered. He didn’t want to intrude Hongjoong’s privacy, considering how much the captain valued it. But Wooyoung could not in good conscience leave a sad member alone, when maybe all they needed was a shoulder to cry on and a hug. If Hongjoong truly wanted to be left alone, Wooyoung would leave.

Wooyoung cautiously knocked on the door, listening for any sounds from inside. Nearly immediately the sniffling stopped and was replaced by hitched breathing. Then Hongjoong’s voice came, wet and uncertain: “Don’t come in. It’s not a good time, sorry.”

Wooyoung sighed. He hadn’t really expected anything else. “Hyung”, he called, trying to keep his voice soft and warm, “it’s just me, Wooyoung-ah. Let me come in, okay? I know something is up and I don’t want you to be alone.”

There was silence for a long time and just as Wooyoung was about to enter anyway, Hongjoong said: “If you really want to, I guess you can come in.”

Wooyoung didn’t waste a second, scared that Hongjoong would revoke his agreement to come in, and opened the door. The captain’s room was nearly drenched in darkness, and Wooyoung had to blink a bit to let his eyes adjust. Only a small moon lamp, the one Hongjoong’s parents had gifted him after their successful promotions of Crazy Form, was on. 

Hongjoong himself was laying under his blankets, which were pretty messy and showed that the captain was curled into himself underneath them. Only a tuft of blonde hair and tired eyes were peeking out. It hurt to see Hongjoong brought so low, normally he was such a bright and happy person. Of course Wooyoung had seen Hongjoong cry before, after their first win and then many other instances later on. But this seemed random - nothing had happened except for the filming. Or had something? Maybe it was his family?

Tentatively, Wooyoung stepped into the room, aware that Hongjoong was watching him. He crossed the small space until he could comfortably sit on the bed beside Hongjoong. Wooyoung hesitated, not knowing if Hongjoong wanted to be touched, but decided to at least place one hand onto the blanket where he supposed the captain’s shoulder was. Up close he could now see how red Hongjoong’s eyes were and the tears and, disgusting, snot on his pale face. 

Hongjoong sighed at the contact, breathing out deeply and focused his gaze on Wooyoung’s hand. “I’m sorry you have to deal with … this”, he mumbled and unburied one trembling hand to vaguely gesture at himself. Now at least his whole face was uncovered and Wooyoung didn’t have to fear anymore that he was trying to suffocate himself.

“I’d rather help than let you be sad alone”, Wooyoung soothed. He still didn’t know what this was. Nothing to do but ask. “I know you probably don’t want to, hyung, but it might help talking about what made you hide in here and cry.”

“You are, for once, right”, Hongjoong said, his lips wobbling as he tried to force a smile, “I really don’t want to talk about it. It’s irrelevant, really.” 

“It’s not irrelevant if it makes you unhappy, hyung”, Wooyoung protested lightly, “Jongho-yah is out with Mingi-hyung. Do you want to sit in the kitchen and eat something? You must be hungry?”

Hongjoong shook his head at that, even with the added information that they were alone and there was no need to reveal his perceived weakness to anybody but Wooyoung. “I’m not hungry at all. I don’t want to get up.”

“How about you take a hot shower to clean yourself up, hm? The hot water might make you feel better. I’ll use the time to make us some ramen and once we’ve eaten we can sit on the couch or go back here, whatever you want. Then you can tell me what’s on your mind”, Wooyoung suggested.

“When did you become so mature, baby?”, Hongjoong asked with a sad sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m up.” It was obvious how much strength it took from the older to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. His knees nearly buckled under his weight and Wooyoung had to place a steadying hand on his hip to help him stay upright. Hongjoong must be more exhausted than Wooyoung had thought.

Gently he led Hongjoong to the bathroom, never once letting go of him. “Take your time. I’ll bring you some pajamas, okay? Just don’t lock the door, you’re not as steady as I would like. Yell if you need anything.”

Tiredly, Hongjoong nodded and slowly stepped into the bathroom as if it took all his power to do so. 

With worry in his chest, Wooyoung left him to it. Deciding that a whole meal could be made another day, he instead went to the kitchen and just boiled some water for instant ramen. It would have to be enough, and as he opened the fridge he was greeted with some left-over mini chocolate cakes that Jongho may or may not have begged the manager for the day before. Surely, Jongho wouldn’t mind Wooyoung using them to cheer up the captain - well, considering that Hongjoong probably would not want Jongho to know, Wooyoung could deal with Jongho being angry at him for a day or two. It was for a better cause, really.

While the water needed some time, Wooyoung decided to change Hongjoong’s bed sheets while he had the time. It was just an amazing feeling to uncurl up under fresh sheets, especially considering Hongjoong had laid down with his dirty outside clothes on before. So, on his way to grab Hongjoong some pajamas he stopped by the small alcove which held the cleaning supplies and fresh towels and sheets. Wooyoung selected one of the good, silky ones that he had … borrowed from Seonghwa before they had changed dorms. He wanted the best for his hard-working captain. 

He deposited the fresh sheets on Hongjoong’s desk and returned to his own room for a moment, grabbing the pajamas he had had in mind since he suggested them. It was just an old pair of San’s sweatpants and a T-shirt which had originally belonged to Yunho but had probably been worn by all of them at some point. Both items were soft and comfy and smelled like home. They would dwarf Hongjoong a lot but Wooyoung knew the captain took comfort from that too.

Wooyoung knocked onto the bathroom door and when he received no answer, he quickly opened the door in worry. But it seemed like Hongjoong just had not heard him, still standing under the shower. The glass of the shower was milky enough that two members technically could use the bathroom at the same time without awkwardness but they preferred not to.

“I’m putting your clothes on the washing machine”, Wooyoung called and received a quiet ‘thank you’ in return. Not wanting to place them in any weird position, Wooyoung quickly left and focused on changing Hongjoong’s bed sheets before finishing up the ramen.

⌛

Wooyoung only needed to wait for a few minutes until Hongjoong joined him in the kitchen. While the clothes should have looked ridiculous on him, it just made him look cozy. Especially with his blond hair slightly dripping onto his shoulders and his bare face, Hongjoong looked very young.

“You wanna eat on the couch? Seonghwa-hyung isn’t here to yell at us”, Wooyoung asked and received a nod. Feeding his hyung took priority over talking about his feelings for the time being. “Let me.” 

He didn’t want Hongjoong to help, maybe even spoil him a bit, so Wooyoung directed him to the couch and carried over the bowls, plates and two glasses of water by himself. He sat everything down on the table and fell onto the couch next to his tired hyung.

“Eat as much as you can”, Wooyoung ordered, knowing Hongjoong was one of the members best at pushing around food in a way to make it look like he had eaten. The captain threw him a wary glance but didn’t protest, instead picking up his chopsticks.

They ate in comfortable silence though it seemed Hongjoong was starting to struggle to stay awake. Once or twice Wooyoung had to save his bowl from tipping over, precariously balanced on Hongjoong’s knees. He didn’t eat close to enough but Wooyoung didn’t have the heart to make him eat more when he put the bowl onto the TV table.

“Chocolate cake?”, Wooyoung offered instead but Hongjoong shook his head.

“I’m really not hungry.”

⌛

With a sigh, Hongjoong rested his head against Wooyoung’s shoulder once both of them were done with eating. He was cold, tired and just wanted to sleep and forget about the day. Staying here, curled up with Wooyoung, sounded like heaven to his frazzled mind. But he knew he owed Wooyoung an explanation of … everything that had happened.

Wooyoung turned his head a bit to look down at Hongjoong and brushed some of the now cold, wet hair from his face. Wooyoung started to frown just then and placed the back of his cold hand against Hongjoong’s forehead.

“You’re feeling warm, hyung”, he said, voice sad, “I think you might be running a fever.”

“I took a hot shower”, Hongjoong countered half-heartedly. He knew the warmth from the shower would not last that long and, if he was honest, a fever would explain his exhausted, emotional state.

“Yeah, but your hair is cold while your forehead is burning”, Wooyoung said, “let me fetch the thermometer for my peace of mind.”

Hongjoong did not, in fact, want to lift his head to let Wooyoung leave but he did. His temples were pounding and the lull of sleep was pulling him in. He opened his eyes to a hand stroking his cheek and obediently he let Wooyoung place the metal under his tongue. Hongjoong reached out with the hand not holding the thermometer to entangle his fingers with Wooyoung’s while they waited. Then a few beeps. Great.

“38.1°C”, Wooyoung read out, “could have been much worse. I have some fever reducers here for you.” 

Deciding he did not want to fight Wooyoung, and also desperate to feel better, Hongjoong just silently took the pills from Wooyoung and took a bite from the chocolate cake he had left over. Once he had downed the pills he took a few sips of water, shivering when the cold liquid went through his body. 

Instantly Wooyoung reached across him and spread the fluffy, oversized blanket over both of them. Hongjoong sunk back down against his side, too comfy to even consider leaving their small nest. Wooyoung hummed and wrapped his arm around Hongjoong so that he could lean his head on Wooyoung’s chest. A hand came to play with his hair and Hongjoong sighed in content. He could probably fall asleep right where he was.

“What’s on your mind, hyung?”, Wooyoung asked gently.

At the question, unwanted tears flooded Hongjoong’s eyes again and he shrugged. What should he say? What could he say?

“I guess filming was a bit too much today”, Hongjoong settled on, reluctantly, “it wasn’t really nice to be alone for so long, especially with the concept…” He trailed off, voice going quieter the more he spoke. Wooyoung, however, didn’t seem to have an issue understanding him.

“Did you feel sick then too?”, he asked. Hongjoong shook his head. Overwhelmed and sad, yes. But not sick.

“Filming probably took a lot out of you, especially with how emotional it can be. No wonder, you’re exhausted and feverish. I can’t fathom how it feels to be alone for so long”, Wooyoung said. Hongjoong was, at this very moment, very glad it had been him and not one of the other members who had had to do this.

“It wasn’t nice”, Hongjoong agreed. Then before he could lose his courage, he asked: “Do you think it’s really worth it? Being idols, I mean.”

Wooyoung inhaled sharply and pressed a kiss against Hongjoong’s temple before he maneuvered Hongjoong from his arms. For a second Hongjoong was scared that the younger would leave, would hate his captain for doubting what they had worked so hard for. Instead Wooyoung turned them both so they could look at each other. One of his hands came to rest against Hongjoong’s cheek, fingers icy-cold against his blazing hot skin.

“For me, it’s definitely worth it, hyung. I don’t want to imagine a world where I never got to meet all of you”, Wooyoung said with a tight smile. At his words Hongjoong’s tears began to fall in earnest again and suddenly he was pulled into a bone-crushing hug, sobbing against his dongsaeng’s chest. Wooyoung held on tight, running his hands up and down Hongjoong’s back and gently soothed and sobs that sounded in the otherwise silent room.

It felt good, in a way, to let go of his anxieties and emotions. To get comforted by somebody who he knew wouldn’t judge. To not have to pretend that he was okay.

⌛

Hongjoong didn’t know how long it was that he was crying for when he was finally able to calm down. Wooyoung helped Hongjoong lie down on his lap, as hesitant as Hongjoong to let go. There were tears on his face too.

“We’re a mess”, Hongjoong rasped. “Yeah, but we’re a mess together. That’s okay”, Wooyoung replied and reached over Hongjoong to grab the box of tissues that was placed on the table. He handed Hongjoong a few tissues and took some for himself. Hongjoong blew his nose, then used a new tissue to wipe his eyes. They burned and ached but he felt lighter somehow. 

“We’ll clean up some other time, the floor is as good as any place”, Wooyoung said and they both dropped the crumbled balls onto the floor.

“I’m sorry”, Hongjoong mumbled, after a moment of contemplation. He didn’t want to burden the younger members with his issues, even less cry all over them. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We all had a hard day and yet I’m the only one ugly crying on the sofa.”

“Hm, none of us had to sit alone in a small room for six hours while occasionally getting flashed by our own trauma. Besides, you have spent all your nights at the studio and are exhausted. And you’re running a fever, though that might be also a reaction to the stress. Don’t feel bad about it, hyung.” Wooyoung shrugged, nonchalant.

But as Wooyoung had said, he was the hyung, the captain. He had to be strong.

Hongjoong didn’t realize he had voiced his thoughts out loud until Wooyoung said: “It’s okay to be weak from time to time. We’re a team, you know. You don’t have to carry all your burdens alone, hyung. Tell me what else has been on your mind, please.” 

Wooyoung sounded so earnest, so hopeful, so worried that Hongjoong couldn’t help but talk.

“I guess … I am … I am so afraid, all the time. Sometimes I think this is all just a dream and I will wake up again in a bed alone, the lone trainee of KQ. Working hard until they decide that debuting a group is too much and that I will have to go back home in shame. I’m scared that one day people will come to realize that they don’t like us as much as they thought. That one bad song, one mistake will ruin all our careers and that it will be all my fault. I’m afraid that all that I have gone through - all that we have gone through - may have been for naught at the end of the day”, Hongjoong admitted, sniffling slightly. His nose was still blocked from crying and it was hard to breathe again.

“It’s real, hyung. It’s all real”, Wooyoung whispered, “we’re famous, we have millions of ATINYs behind our backs, ready to defend us and loving what we do. And even if some might lose interest and one day we’re not as famous anymore, we’re still eight. We’re still your friends, hyung. Isn’t that enough?”

Hongjoong looked up at his dongsaeng who was looking at him with stars in his eyes. He had never really realized how much the members adored him but he could see the love Wooyoung held for him.

“It’s enough for me. But I want you to shine on stage and be happy”, Hongjoong whispered.

“We’re happy, hyung. We’re all so happy, don’t worry. Even if we weren’t on stage, we’d be happy, I promise.”

“Okay”, Hongjoong choked out.

Wooyoung continued running his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair. He seemed to contemplate what to say next. Hongjoong held his breath.

“But that’s still not all, is it?”, Wooyoung asked.

Hongjoong was already too deep in spilling his secrets to start caring now what Wooyoung might think.

“I miss my family”, he whispered, feeling ashamed anyhow. Wooyoung didn’t see his family … no, it wasn’t a competition. They could all miss their families no matter how often - or not - they saw them. 

“I just … I mean I left for Seoul when I was so young. I sometimes regret it, you know. Not spending time with them when I still have it. I know I am overthinking but … I mean, technically anybody could die tomorrow and I will forever regret not spending more time with them. I miss them so much, I miss seeing them daily. I miss my eomma’s hugs and my appa’s comforting words and I even miss Bumjoong teasing me for this or that. I guess, I just … I just want to not be ‘on’ all the time. It’s scary too, knowing that here I am the second oldest, the person responsible for all of you. Any small mistake I make could hurt you. I am so scared you will come to resent me if I wasn’t careful, decided wrong and something bad happened…”

“Hyung, Joong-ah, stop”, Woyooung interjected, gently but firmly enough that it shut Hongjoong up. “Listen to me, hyung: We will never resent you for whatever happens. We know you always do the best for us, decide what you think is best. Until now you have not led us astray and I doubt you will. You’re always there for us and we’re so thankful to you. I’m just sorry that we haven’t taken care of you as much as you deserved.”

Wooyoung tapped his finger against Hongjoong’s temple. “You are so smart, hyung, and so headstrong. I know you think you need to be the strong, reliable hyung and captain for us. But you don’t have to be all the time. You’re barely five months older than Yunho, both you and Seonghwa are not much older than we are. I know people call us ‘the kids’ but we do forget sometimes that we actually aren’t. You don’t always need to take care of us. I know you are the baby in your family and I can understand it must be hard to have suddenly been forced into an unknown role. But please, please remember: It’s eight makes one team. You can lean on us too, Hongjoong-hyung.”

Maybe it was the way Wooyoung had said it with tears already glistening in his eyes again, or it was something else but Hongjoong found himself overwhelmed with sobs again. He turned to hide his face against Wooyoung’s stomach and cried.

Cried about his fears.

Cried about the past.

Cried about the future.

Cried about the difficult day.

Cried for himself.

It was good. Cathartic. 

⌛

Wooyoung’s heart ached for his captain, sobbing on his lap. None of the members, not even Seonghwa, seemed to have known just how much baggage and internal pressure Hongjoong carried with himself. How much he hid behind smiles and several ‘I’m your hyung, don’t worry about me’.

Now they paid the price: An exhausted, sick and anxious captain hurt beyond his limit for the day.

Slowly, so slowly, Hongjoong’s breathing turned even and then it became congested snores. Wooyoung just continued running his fingers through the bleached hair and pressed a kiss against Hongjoong’s barely exposed temple. Then he pulled out his phone.

Wooyoung (23:34): Hongjoong-hyung is sick and exhausted.  Can you tell the manager he needs at least a few days off?

Hwa-Hyung (23:35): What’s wrong? Do you need me to come over? I’ll let the manager know…

Wooyoung (23:36): He’s running a decent fever.

Wooyoung thought for a moment if he should tell Seonghwa more or not but decided that Hongjoong would need all the help and support from the group in the future. 

Hwa-Hyung (23:36): How high? What else?

Hwa-Hyung (23:37): How high?

Hwa-Hyung (23:37): Yah! Wooyoung, I can see you are reading the messages.

Hwa-Hyung (23:38): Nevermind - I’m treating this as an emergency. I’m coming over.

Wooyoung (23:38): Yeah, that might be best…

Wooyoung was left with an unopened message but less than five minutes later Seonghwa had let himself into the apartment, rushing over to the sofa the moment he spotted them. He was wearing a two-piece Star Wars pajama set which looked ridiculous and cute at the same time. Before he could say anything, Wooyoung lifted his fingers to his lips, signaling for quiet.

Seonghwa nodded and came to kneel beside the couch, hands coming up automatically to run gentle circles on Hongjoong’s back. The captain didn’t even stir, too sick to be roused by such an act. “What happened? Did the filming go badly?”, the eldest whispered.

“I found him crying in his room. I think today was just too much - it triggered all his fears and insecurities. He was left in that room for six hours on his own, anybody would have been on edge after that, especially when confronted with your own trauma. And, as I said, he’s running a fever. No wonder he is emotional. Though I suspect it may have been caused by the stress as well”, Wooyoung explained, equally quiet, “he needs us so much, hyung. He’s so scared of letting us down.”

“We’ll take care of him, Wooyoung-ah, don’t worry”, Seonghwa replied, “let’s get him to bed so he can sleep comfortably, okay?” Without further ado he lifted Hongjoong into his arms bridal style, letting Wooyoung adjust the captain against his shoulder. 

Wooyoung ran ahead, opening doors and pulling the covers of the freshly-made bed back so Seonghwa could set Hongjoong down without any issues. With a smile Seonghwa beckoned Wooyoung to climb into bed with the captain and he readily complied. Gently he pulled Hongjoong close, hugging him from behind as the big spoon, while Seonghwa adjusted the blankets over them. 

Throughout all the administrations Hongjoong hadn’t woken up at all, just cuddled a bit close to the warmth of Wooyoung’s body. But when Seonghwa kissed both their foreheads he sleepily opened his eyes, barely even there. Wooyoung doubted he would even remember in the morning.

“I love you”, Hongjoong whispered, earning grins and kisses from the other two.

“We all love you, hyung”, Wooyoung whispered back and squeezed Hongjoong a bit tighter.

“Sleep well, you two”, Seonghwa mumbled, “I’ll be in your room, Wooyoung-ah, if you need me. Love you too.”

Seonghwa switched off the light and the room was bathed in darkness. Wooyoung was sure his arm would fall asleep during the night and Hongjoong was uncomfortably warm against him but for now it was enough.

⌛

Hongjoong wasn’t okay.

But he would be with their help.

[kittenfangirl20]

Day 7 Shapeshifting (based on the idea of Adam being forced to take on the role of Eve by the angels)

*the stress of seeing Lucifer and the fact that he was going to lose brought on the change, Adam to internally scream, he didn’t want anyone to see him like, Adam tried to fly away, but Lucifer hit him causing him to hit the ground, with the helmet knocked off it let the now long silvery blonde hair fell around his shoulders and going down to his knees, Adam held the robes up to his now shorter and thinner body even though the black body suit clung to his body, Adam looked up as tears stung his eyes to see a very shocked Lucifer because he was now looking at Eve instead of Adam*

Lucifer: Eve?

Adam: Please let me explain.

*Adam hated the voice he had now and he hated being forced to be in, instead of laughing at Adam, Lucifer gave him an understanding look and just held his hand out to him, Adam let go of the robes and let them fall in order to take Lucifer’s hand, they flew and towards the royal palace of the Morningstar Family, Lucifer led Adam to his private office, Lucifer let Adam sit before taking one of his hands in a gentle manner*

Lucifer: Can you explain why you just turned into Eve.

Adam: When Lilith ran away with you, it was decided that it wasn’t a good idea to make me a new wife because they said that I didn’t deserve one after I couldn’t keep the previous one from running, so they made me take on the role of Eve when they needed me to be a mother.

Lucifer: So when I mentioned how your second wife liked what I had to offer, I was actually talking about you?

Adam: Yeah, I mean I did like what you had to offer, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.

*Adam nervously laughed*

Lucifer: Were any of your children mine?

Adam: Cain and Abel were yours, the others were from your brothers. You were the only one I was truly happy with, the others treated me like breeding livestock.

*Lucifer gently rubbed the top of Adam’s hand*

Lucifer: If I had known that they did this to you I would have taken you from them.

Adam: I didn’t want you to ever find out.

Lucifer: Why not?

Adam: Look at me, I prided myself on being the first man, the Dickmaster, it is so embarrassing that I had my masculinity temporarily taken from me because my wife ran from me because I couldn’t control her like they wanted and refused to control her. It was twice as embarrassing because of how much I love you, but who could love a freak like me.

*Adam rubbed his eyes to keep the tears away, Lucifer pulled the hand away and kissed Adam*

Lucifer: It doesn’t matter if you are Adam or Eve, I do love you and I want you to stay with me.

*Adam looked at Lucifer and knew he was telling the truth, a smile graced Adam’s lips as he felt his body go back to Adam’s body, the loving look remained in Lucifer’s eyes, Lucifer reached up and placed his hand on Adam’s cheek which Adam leaned into*

Adam: I want to stay with you and only you. But I will only stay if you remove the ability to turn into Eve from me.

*Adam had to know if Lucifer would want him only as his true self, he wanted this curse gone and just be the man he was always meant to be and he didn’t want to find out that Lucifer only wanted him for Eve*

Lucifer: Of course my love.

*Lucifer placed both his hands on Adam’s cheeks as Lucifer’s angelic magic flowed through Adam getting rid of Eve’s form leaving only Adam, he was free from his curse and Lucifer kissed Adam even more passionately than when he was in Eve’s body*

Adam: I love you.

Lucifer: I love you very much too.

[namaaaes]

( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ ）

[thiefking]

i think arven probably hates most fast food sandwiches. hates subway and the soggy lettuce. if you try to shred lettuce for a sandwich he'll get so mad. i wonder if he had any money while the professor was dicking around in the Mist Hole like did he have access to their account...? i feel like i can see arven working at subway and then growing such insane contempt for the place while also being the one who made the best sandwiches despite his ingredient constraints

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

[augustinewrites]

“babe. baaaabe. babe!”

“what, satoru?” you ask sharply, looking up from your laptop to where your boyfriend has spread himself across your couch, his legs in shoko’s lap. 

he lifts his shades to look at you. “was i your first crush?”

“yes,” you answer quickly.

you immediately return to the report you’re writing, missing the face shoko makes before she says, “that’s not true.” 

“ieiri,” you whisper harshly, but it’s too late. your boyfriend’s already jumped off the couch to lean his palms against your desk. 

“what? i wasn’t your first?!”

“you were,” you insist, glaring at your friend. “shoko is clearly misremembering things.”

“am i though?”

“you know what, it’s fine,” gojo sighs, slipping his shades back on and rolling the sleeve of his t-shirt up so he can flex. “obviously i’m way cooler than whatever lame schmuck high school you was crushing on.”

behind him, shoko’s scoff is the final nail in your coffin. “nanami is way cooler than you ever were.”

you slap your forehead, bracing yourself for gojo’s inevitable overreaction. 

but he doesn’t get the chance, interrupted by a light knock against your doorframe from, you guessed it, nanami kento.

“yaga said you wanted to see me?”

cue overreaction.

“you had a crush on— on him?” 

nanami swats gojo’s finger away from his cheek. 

“oh my god,” your boyfriend breathes, currently experiencing a quarterlife crisis. “you liked this emo nemo?”

nanami ignores him, sending you a questioning look. “he doesn’t know?”

“what is it now?” satoru asks, slumping back into the couch. “did you guys go on a date or something?” 

your lack of answer is enough for him to let his head fall back rather dramatically. 

“can you blame her?” shoko asks. “he was sexy back then. in an edgy, mysterious kind of way. meanwhile, you were like…if a string bean made love to a cauliflower.” 

even gojo doesn’t have a witty retort prepared for that. 

you decide to clear this up once and for all. “it wasn’t just about looks. you were busy after— after riko. you didn’t have time for a relationship or…for me. you wanted to get stronger and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“you wouldn’t have been—”

“i would have.” you shrug. because you know him, and you know what he was like. “and that’s okay because we were still kids, satoru. and it was only one date! no need to get so torn up about it!”

_____

“what is this?” you ask later that night, when you find satoru hauling a huge box into your apartment.

“it’s a bowflex!” gojo explains proudly, patting the unopened box. “shoko said that i was built like a string bean, so i’m gonna buff up like nanami! and when megumi moves out next year, i’m gonna turn his room into a gym.”

you lean in the doorway, amused. nanami also has a home gym. “is that why you’re also wearing a suit and tie instead of your usual uniform?”

he does a show spin, letting you take it all in. you don’t even want to know how much it must have cost. “do you like it?” 

“you do look very handsome.” 

“i know,” he winks, cocky as ever. “now watch this.”

he brushes a few strands of hair over his eyes, lowering his voice a few octaves as he says, “taxes. office work. satoru, i respect you so much!”

you walk up to him, brushing the hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. “nanami would never say that last thing, but i do like the effort.” 

he loops his arms around your waist, returning the kiss and murmuring against your skin, “did it turn you on though? maybe i should get an office job—”

“satoru,” you whine, resting your forehead against his chest. “it was just a short-lived crush. and it was forever ago! i’m pretty sure you’ve had crushes that weren’t me.”

“nope,” he hums, resting his chin atop your head. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve ever needed…is you.” 

[todayisafridaynight]

RIGHT YEAH I was also thinking about the scenario of Jo accompanying Masato in relation to this, in the vein of… that'd solidify that the whole lie was always about His Family and not The Family right… because what can Jo even DO for the family while he's away? He's more than a glorified accountant.

Though thinking about it, he probably wouldn't have been away too long, at least compared to a prison sentence for murder. Because Masato only faked his death in 2004 (at the very latest, I guess; it's when the news went public) and Bleach Japan was founded "almost 20 years" prior to 2019, at which point Aoki and Ogasawara had already graduated and returned to Japan.

That and Aoki wasn't in a wheelchair anymore when he met Ogasawara at Harvard, so perhaps Jo would only really /need/ to stay for the procedure and Aoki's physical therapy and all, though of course I can see him staying longer. Still, not too long, all things considered.

So this scenario's kind of the worst of both worlds, because perhaps those first couple of years it's Arakawa's own stubbornness, and then the rest of his family has to go away anyway. And he's so sure in that time what he needs is to be with his family again and he'll at least feel less alone, miss Ichi less.

But then Masato's Aoki now and only really staying in touch to use him and the Arakawa Family's resources for his own gain, and Jo--as you perfectly put it--doesn't know how to emotionally take care of him. So things he should be ecstatic about--seeing his son walk on his own two legs for the first time and having his right hand man back in action--end up bittersweet at best. Aiiieeeeee……

OH YEAH SHINJI I half-remembered there was a visit in 1 but not who actually went to visit Kiryu sorry for doing you like that my boy </3 still counts as part of a pattern to me though… subordinate visiting his aniki…

SPEAKING OF KIRYU. Yeah. Typical Kiryu L. Kazuma Kiryu you have blood on your hands and NOT in the funney Reddit meme way… ABSOLUTELY DERANGED to blame Ichi for anything in the ending whatsoever though like WHAT. He got him immediate medical attention and WE AS THE AUDIENCE don't even have time to react, let alone anyone living the fucking moment good god my blood pressure is spiking

ALSO THE JO POST… YEAH… yeah yeah yeah that's the shit I'm talking about… and like. This is where localization frustrates me so Bear With My Complaints a moment but his very last line is mistranslated in both versions, the sub in terms of what he was actually saying and the dub in terms of giving him this bitchy, flippant tone that doesn't convey his intent. So I'll cut them down the middle and say it's "[The] legit [way]? The word has never crossed my mind, not once."

There's just something to it as a clear thesis for his whole life and his eventual fate. Like of course Adachi means in terms of going through the proper legal processes, but words like proper, legit, decent, these also have clear connotations of adequacy. So for him to literally say NOTHING he's done has been adequate in his eyes perfectly illustrates what you were saying. Like he's always taken it as a matter of fact that nothing he could do would be enough, like that's a truth woven into his existence so tightly he never even thought about it. And now there really is nothing he can do.

i have my own theoretical timeline on masato's stay in america, but even with what we have there's a lot of variables involved with for exactly when certain events happened

under the assumption masato was to enroll at harvard in the fall of 2001 (assuming he was somehow able to be approved for a lung transplant as soon as that year), then jo would- at max- might only have to be abroad for (assuming they leave in january) nine months (to account for the time it took for masato to get approved for surgery and then the surgery itself plus the potential 3-6 month recovery period afterwards)

alternatively, if masato had to wait a year- two max if we're being optimistic so he could graduate on time under an accelerated 2-year academic schedule to get surgery- then jo, similarly, would have to be abroad for a similar amount of time.

the time gone doesn't matter too much i guess: arakawa will still be left alone for a long time, and that really couldnt have been easy either way. the time his family's gone only makes their comeback all the more bittersweet, as you put it (´▽｀;;)

OH BUT YEAH NO THE Y7 BIT THAT SHIT PISSED ME OFF SO MUCH WHEN I READ IT like mates were trying to be smart about it like 'wow ichi way to go showing how much you love aoki and how you'd do anything for him 🙄' like God Forbid a human character acts human and imperfect what the fuck you want him to do he aint got no goddamn spidey sense how the shit was he supposed to know (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

but yeah.. speaking of Doing The Right Thing jo's never ending feelings of inadequacy are my favorite </3 cause its like.. it's a reason why i love jo so much if i can be weird to say: what he did wasnt something that you can confidently forgive or try to say 'he's done the most to rectify this' or anything like that because putting a baby in a coin locker's like.. a lot of steps are involved to do that.. not really a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing that would have grounds to forgive yourself for.. so the fact jo knows this and just has that intense guilt- it's my bread and butter to say the least 😔

[luveline]

hotch sister idea-- convincing hotch to take you out to dinner with the whole team because you "want to properly meet his friends" (i'm a sucker for team dynamics) but then being shy and cute with spencer the entire time to the point that hotch notices and gets a tad protective...but ends with spencer getting her number or something

thank you for requesting 💌 —you attend a party with your older brother in a not so secret plight to see Dr. Reid. You fawn, Spencer flusters, and Hotch drinks a tad more than usual. fem, 2.3k

cw for mentions of past child abuse

The car is quiet besides the tread of the tires on asphalt. You click and unclick the clasp of your shoulder bag, checking for your purse, getting worried your purse isn’t in there, and checking again.

“If there’s something you want to ask me, you can ask me.”

You move your gaze to your brother. His quietness can make you nervous, a reflection of your father but with none of the cruelty. “I don’t want you to get mad at me if it’s stupid.”

“Well, I won’t. I promise.”

You know he won’t, but sometimes the fear remains. Even when you’re far from being a kid. “Do you remember when I got suspended for, um, disrespectful behaviour? My senior year?”

Aaron turns the wheel with care. “I do.”

“And we went for ice cream.”

“Yeah, honey, I remember.”

That’s the point you’re trying to make, maybe. That tenderness sewn into the middle of his sentence. If your dad knew you’d been suspended again he would’ve made you feel it. You remember the sinking sensation in your chest waiting for him to pick you up, having written the speech he’d give you in the car ride home in your head ten times over, the sting of his palm grazing your cheek before you’d even seen his hand. So you waited in a total violent panic, head rush, wondering if anything was worth anything, when Aaron arrived to pick you up.

How did you know? you’d asked.

I changed your emergency contact. I hope that’s okay.

“You asked me what I wanted and…”

What flavour did you want, honey? he’d asked. Honey, like he loved you, the only person in the whole world who’d bother asking. The only man who’d take you for ice cream at seventeen years old to cure a bad day.

“And you burst into tears,” Aaron says.

He’d sat down opposite you in his suit, torn from one of his trials, and you can’t remember anymore if he was an attorney or already in the FBI, but you can’t forget how he’d taken your wrists into his hands and asked you not to cry.

“When you took me home, Haley asked me if you’d upset me, and I didn’t know how to explain it so you said yes. And she shouted at you for a whole half hour.”

“Why are you thinking about this now?” he asks.

Maybe because college is over and you’re forced to move on. Aaron asked you to try hard and you have, but now you have your degree and you don’t know what to do with it, you’ll get a job, and then what?

“I’ve been thinking about… my love life.”

“Oh. And you have to talk about this with me?” he jokes.

“I don’t have anybody else.”

He tears his gaze from the windshield. “That’s not true.”

“But…”

He turns into the parking lot outside of Dan’s Fine Wine Bar and pulls into a tight space with ease. He hesitates before he flicks off the engine, turning to you with a smile. “You’ll always have me,” he says, “and we can talk about your love life. I want to. God knows you’ve heard enough about mine this last year.” You both grimace. “But if I have to listen one more time to you talking about Spencer–”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“Honey.” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door. “I’m not mad. But imagine your younger sibling comes to you one day to tell you they have feelings for your employee and try to find some sympathy for me!”

He clambers out of the car. You rush after him, unbuckling your seatbelt and nearly smashing your door into the car next to you. The air outside is cold, and you didn’t bring a jacket even though Aaron told you to twice, so you can’t mention it aloud. “I don’t have feelings for him.”

“You have a crush. You’re too old for it.”

“I am not.”

He gestures for you to walk in front of him as he clicks the fob for the car and the doors lock automatically. “I don’t understand what this has to do with your suspension.”

You chew on your cheek. Neon from the wine bar mottles your skin as you pass under it and through the door, air quickly turned from cold to temperate, the smell of old rain replaced by carpeting and beer. When you lift your head to his gaze, he’s still waiting for your answer. “You told me things wouldn’t be that hard forever. I was just wondering when it’s safe to say you were right.”

He grins at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to give you a rough hug. “Right now. Be happy right now, honey.”

“There they are!” Penelope calls from a table near the back. Suddenly, Aaron’s entire team of work colleagues stand up where they’ve dominated a whole row of tables and booths alike to greet you. “Oh my gosh, I missed you!”

You met Penelope a long long time ago, and JJ and Derek around the same time, but everybody else is basically new. College was busy and Aaron busier —there was hardly ever time to visit, and when you did it was to see him and Haley. Meeting his friends was somehow put off.

You were introduced to Emily and Spencer, so Aaron directs you to David Rossi first. That’s the main team done quickly. But then he has to introduce you to Anderson, Sweeney, Kelly, Cory, Davidson, etc. So many agents for one man’s birthday. Anyone would think Derek Morgan was a celebrity.

“Happy birthday!” you say, when you finally get a moment to speak.

Derek reaches over the table to hug you quickly. “Thank you, gorgeous. We’re thrilled you’re here.” He pulls back, elbowing Penelope lovingly. “Aren’t we, mama?”

Penelope squeals and jumps for you. “So thrilled!”

Aaron touches your back, as if to say, I’m here, before taking a seat opposite Rossi. You hear snippets of a conversation about whiskey and when, but you’re distracted, because suddenly Penelope’s forcing you to sit down in her vacated seat, smack bang between Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.

Dr. Spencer Reid. “Hi,” you say quietly. Can’t help it. You remember how you’d reacted when you met him the week before last and wonder if it’s too late to pretend you’re cool —you’d gotten so worked up about him. He wrote a bunch of papers you had to read for your degree, some of the most sophisticated theory on elliptical math you’d ever read, and you’re supposed to act like he’s just a normal guy?

It doesn’t help that he’s model pretty. You’d never have thought of him as he is now over email, his huge brown eyes, pale skin, the flicking curl of his hair behind his ears. When he turns his head, he has indents on his nose from a pair of glasses you wish you’d seen. You clear your throat.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” Spencer asks.

“I’m gonna go get a drink now,” Aaron says. “What do you want?” he asks you.

“Um, anything. I don’t really wanna drink.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says with deliberateness.

You feel heat like a rash on your neck. He’s embarrassing you doing his dad routine.

“You look pretty,” Spencer says.

You hide your hands under your thighs. “You think so?”

“You look beautiful,” Penelope says from across the table.

“Didn’t inherit that Hotchner scowl,” Derek says with a grin, “I thought it came with the name.”

“I learned how to do it the day they signed the adoption certificate,” you nudge in, “I just keep it to myself. I think Aaron has it down.”

Everybody within hearing distance laughs at you, to your relief. To your left, Spencer’s shoe hits your heel.

“So weird to hear his real name,” Emily says, tipping her drink to the side, ice and sugar on the surface. “I thought for sure you’d have to call him Hotch too.”

You look around in surprise. “He can’t be that bad. Does he really frown so much?”

You’re told vehemently that your brother is a grump, which is something you were aware of, just not experienced in. Sure, he’s had his unhappy moments, no one can smile every second of the day, but if everyone is to be believed he’s the sternest man alive. Eventually things drift into storytelling. Aaron brings you your drink with a straw and a napkin wrapped around the base, and you find yourself listening to a graphic rehash of Derek’s first case with the BAU.

Spencer’s leg is a coal at your side.

Your self preservation runs out. “You don’t drink?” you ask, nodding to his glass bottle of coke.

“I– I never did. I never had the opportunity. I’ve never even been to a party.” He pauses. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I didn’t go to parties either,” you say, overjoyed to find common ground so quickly.

“I mean, I was never invited, but highschool parties didn’t seem like my thing. And, you know, I was twelve.”

“You were twelve in highschool?”

He’s doing that thing you noticed the day you met, where his lips move before he’s ready to talk, his emotion clear. “You weren’t?” he asks, not quite smooth but enough to make you laugh suddenly.

“I wish! I could’ve been done with college years ago.” Your brows pinch together. “Wait, so did you go to college as a kid?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“What? No wonder you didn’t go to any parties, that must’ve been insane. When I was twelve I was still setting my Barbie’s up for dance parties. Aaron has a photo of me dressed up in mom’s old clothes.” You lean forward for a sip of your drink.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s a photo of me just like that when I was twelve, too.”

You laugh so hard you almost choke.

A cup comes down hard somewhere behind your turned head.

“You okay?” Emily asks.

She wears a smirk you don’t understand, a joke you’ve missed. You peer past her to look to Aaron for advice and find him rather sullen, hand curled tightly around his drink. You try to give him a signal to ask if he’s alright, but it’s to no avail.

“I’m fine, sorry, just a joke.” You turn back to Spencer. “That’s adorable.”

You’re breathless talking to him. He must notice, but Spencer doesn’t say a word.

If someone asked you why he caught your attention, you’re not sure you know the answer. He’s pretty, undeniably, and it’s fascinating that you used his theory while you were in school, but fascination isn’t endless. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. No ones ever given such a clear sense of awe; he gets stuck on you, his eyes tracing your cheek and your nose and your lips. It’s noticeable, but it isn’t unwanted. You keep coming back to his smile as he talks, the flash of his teeth.

“I honestly didn’t know Hotch had a sister,” Spencer says.

“He was keeping us apart for a reason,” you say insistently, “I just don’t know what that reason is yet. He must’ve known you were the Dr. Reid I’d been reading.”

“It makes it sound like you’re reading me,” Spencer laughs. “Like, my hands.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Do I want you to what?”

“To read your palm?”

“You know how?”

“No parties, remember?”

Spencer gives you his hand. He has nice hands, big but slim-fingered like a pianist’s, though if he plays isn’t something you know. You angle it flat careful, your thumbs to either side of his open palm. “What do you want to know?” you ask.

“What can you tell me?”

You hum gently. “You have your life line, your head line, your heart line– your love line.”

“What does that– that mean for me?”

You press your thumb to his mount Jupiter, a soft hill of his hand under one of his fingers where the heart line begins. “Your desire for love, and your capacity for it. See how deeply curved it is?” you ask, drawing along his heart line gently. “It means you’re warm, and loving. That you could have a great love.”

You look up, his hand held gently between yours. “But I could be really wrong. I haven’t done this in so long, I might just be making stuff up.”

You sound insecure to your own ears, cringing away from his hand, but Spencer ducks his head just a little to keep your gaze, and he smiles at you softly. “It’s okay. I like your reading, even if it’s wrong. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Aaron would buy me any book I asked for growing up, he…”

Your brother, sitting only a few seats away, can’t find it in himself to regret that particular generosity even if the sight of you holding Spencer’s hand isn’t one he wants to see. It’s odd. You’re fully grown up, and it’s not like Aaron thinks Spencer would ever hurt you purposefully, but it’s hard to see anyways. He can admit to feeling like a father watching his daughter finding a first love; he can’t keep you forever and he doesn’t want to, but it’s still hard to watch as you descend into giggles that border on dizziness.

“This is a good thing,” Rossi says. “You’ll never have to worry about her being out past curfew.”

Aaron laughs, it’s funny, and then he knocks back his drink.

[jongseongsnudes]

babygirl

brothersbestfriend!jake. 2.5k words. smut.

“you’re a fucking perv sim.”

“aw and you’re just mad i don’t perv on you,” he says with his infamous smug grin, his eyes blatantly scanning you from head to toe like he had been doing the whole time, “ain’t that right babygirl?”

how you even got yourself into a screaming match with jake sim again, you have no idea but doing so in the middle of your brother's frat party was not very ideal. especially if said man caught you in your outfit tonight... oh. all hell would break loose.

jay loved you. very overprotective, but definitely loved you. he also loved his best friend jake sim. you and jake however, don’t like each other and using the term like in the same sentence as you and jake, was also very misleading about your relationship with him.

just something about him irked you the wrong way right from the start. perhaps it’s the way he smirked all the time, like it was his natural expression. or maybe it’s the way he is such a fucking sleaze ball yet still gets all the girls so easily. he’s lucky he’s hot as fuck and got a big dick, according to rumours on campus.

“in your fucking dreams sim.”

“suit yourself,” he responds smugly, eyes still plastered on your skirt, “i’m just saying. any shorter and this whole house will get to find out what colour your panties are. i meannnn, i don’t mind but i’m sure your brother will.”

you roll your eyes at him, something you always do whenever the man was around. like a natural reflex. because god was jake sim annoying.

like most saturdays, you and your friends found yourselves crashing some frat party on campus. this week’s party just happens to be at your own brother’s frat house, which unfortunately, was also where your sworn enemy lived.

and as if jake had a you radar in his head, he had approached you first thing as you walked through his front door, eyeing your outfit so shamelessly. well. you did opt for something shorter tonight, something you knew would’ve gotten yourself a lot of attention with.

especially jake sim’s.

despite hating the man with your entire being, there was just something about the way he paid so much attention to you all the time... excited you. no matter if it was during parties, on the street or even while hanging out with your brother, jake’s gaze never failed to be on you... and your body.

it drove you insane, it really did and you couldn’t explain why.

“worry about yourself,” you scoff and begin looking around the room, “but what you can do for me though, is tell me where sunghoon is.”

“sunghoon? why?”

his tone is noticeably lower as he repeats his best friend’s name, a hint of annoyance in his voice. jake wasn’t one to get irritated often so the immediate change was definitely something you quickly caught on.

“why? i didn’t dress this way not to go talk to the hottest guy on campus.”

the deep chuckle that emits from jake catches the attention of a few other party goers, even surprising you. it’s obvious he’s mocking you with his laugh alone and that was enough to have you wanting to smack him across the head.

“babygirl. i have a better chance at getting with sunghoon than you. he has standards.”

and the man walks off before you could even say anything, leaving you in the middle of the living room with your blood boiling over. you knew jake was awful but this was just plain mean.

but instead of running after him, you decide to do something even better.

find park sunghoon.

and luckily for you, there he was on the other side of the room with three of the hottest girls on campus. honestly, you expected nothing less when it came to him.

sunghoon was also one of your brother’s best friends but the man was nothing like jake. he was much nicer to you, much more attentive to you. like an older brother. that’s why it didn’t take long before you had sunghoon all to yourself, the man ready to drop everything and anything once he saw you staring at him from afar.

“sunghoon i need a favour,” you say but your eyes are focused on jake, who’s standing in the crowd... currently staring back at you. “can you hug me?”

sunghoon doesn’t question it and leans right in, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close. he says a few dumb things about jay to make you laugh, making the scene all the better for the one person watching.

“i know what you’re trying to do mini park,” he laughs as he begins to pull away, not before leaving a sweet peck on your cheeks, “well good luck. hope this works and you get some good jealousy fucking tonight.”

you wanted to complain but about what exactly? the man was right. why else why would you go out of your way to make jake mad. right?

man you needed a drink.

and to your surprise, jake appears beside you in the kitchen while you’re grabbing another cup, the man’s expression grim compared to that flirty one he had earlier. he’s also standing noticeably closer too, his gaze literally drilling holes into your face.

was this jealousy you can smell?

“really? sunghoon?”

“why not? he’s so hot,” you reply nonchalantly, hoping it���d piss the man off more, “or maybe taehyun or beomgyu? i’m sure one of them wouldn’t mind keeping me company tonight.”

now you were just spitting bullshit, seeing how worked up jake was getting with the mentions of other guy’s names. with the way he was responding, you’re certain now that he's jealous and you knew exactly how to use that against him.

“oh look, there’s heeseung-”

“babygirl,” jake grabs your arm before you could finish your sentence, his one word more of a threat than anything endearing like the name suggests, “they may be hot but trust me, they can’t fuck like i can.”

gulp.

“you’re not only annoying sim, you actually talk a lot of shit too.”

“wanna bet then?”

“bet what?”

“that no can fuck you like i can.”

everything happened way too quickly because one moment you’re being cornered in the kitchen, the next you’re still being cornered but in his bedroom upstairs. his hands are all over your body, grasping at every curve you’ve got while yours are busy around his neck, doing everything they can to have him closer to you.

you’re not even sure how everything just exploded between the two of you but in a way, you’re also surprised it took this long to happen.

although you and jake were always at each other’s throats, you can’t deny the oh so obvious sexual tension that lingered whenever you two were in the same room. explains why you enjoyed riling him up so much... because that always led to him giving you his full attention.

“you’re a fucking brat,” he could barely say his words, his lips too busy on yours to do any proper talking, “you knew i was watching and you still let sunghoon touch you.”

“you don’t own me jake,” the man looks amused when you successfully pull away from the kiss a little, the two of you now panting heavily inside the dimly lit room, “i can let him touch me if i want-”

“you won’t be saying that after i’m done with you. you’ll never want anyone else but me.”

“so are you going to keep talking or are you actually going to fuck me-”

his lips were back on yours before you could finish your insult, turning your words into soft whimpers from how harsh he was being. he kisses you roughly, with no hesitation, like he was on a mission to taste all of you.

and hell was it doing something to you.

and your damn panties.

“this fucking skirt,” you could feel his fingers gripping the material of your thin skirt, almost ripping it, “i know you wore it for me tonight. you could’ve just said you wanted me to fuck you, instead of letting everyone else in this god damn place see you in it too.”

“and what’s wrong with that, jake?”

“i don’t like them looking at you,” his tone of voice switches up in an instant, from flirty to dominant all in two seconds and damn was that hot, “too bad for them though, they don’t get to do what i’m about to.”

you open your mouth to talk back, only to be left speechless when the man gets down onto his knees before you. the sight is surely one to witness, something you know for a fact you’ll be thinking about again and again.

“jake...”

he only smirks at how you call his name, whiny and pathetic. like a bitch in heat and he hasn’t even done a single thing to you yet.

every part of you is on left on overdrive the moment jake suddenly leans in, his face now a breath away from where you needed him most. his eyes stay on yours the entire time, making sure you focused on him and every one of his movements... and you did just that.

your breath hitches when his cold hands meets with your skin, his fingers now gripped onto the sides of your thighs, gradually moving higher up your skirt. you wanted to scream at the man, for him to move faster, to do something more than just this bullshit eye contact but you know jake sim. he’s being a fucking tease and you can’t do anything about it.

“you’re so cute when you’re like this.”

“l- like what sim?”

“horny.”

gulp.

he lifts one of your legs up and rests it on his shoulder, doing it hastily that you end up grasping onto his hair for some sort of balance. your surprised look has him with a smug grin again, evidently amused at your reaction to him.

“jake!”

“is at your service beautiful,” your mind was too startled by the new petname to notice the man leaning in before it was too late. with both hands now holding your thighs, jake finally closes the gap, pressing his lips against your clothed pussy.

the sinful sound that falls from your own lips is something no other man has ever gotten from you, a sound you didn’t even know you could make. yet here jake sim was, so easily doing so just by kissing you through your panties.

“thinking of me made you this wet babygirl?” he laughs, taunting you with his words but for once in your life, you couldn’t care less, “i can taste you through your panties. so sweet.”

“f- fuck off sim, stop tea- teasing,” you want to sound stern, to sound like how you usually did but it was almost impossible not to sound like a weakling with jake’s face literally at your pussy, “i swear to god i will call for sunghoon right now- ahhh-”

it’s the feeling of his tongue licking at your core that has your knees giving out, your mind no longer able to think about anything else other than the man and his tongue.

“call him so he can watch me fuck you dumb? narh. i’m too jealous for that.”

his words leave a weird feeling inside of you, a feeling you don’t quite understand. you’re unsure whether he meant it or not but the look on his face is suddenly grim again, much like earlier when you also mentioned his best friend’s name.

jake stands back up when you go quiet, all while watching you. you can tell he’s also deep in thought like you are but no one says anything. it’s silent but it’s not awkward, neither was it uncomfortable.

actually, it’s the most comfortable you’ve ever been with him.

“get on the bed,” his voice is much softer now, more like a whisper.

his expression, his tone, his gaze are something you’ve never seen from him before. a soft side. and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

not wanting to make the situation weird, you do as asked without protest, crawling onto his bed when-

*bang bang bang*

“sim you in there?”

the sudden call of jake’s name immediately has you and him frozen in place, the both of you knowing exactly who that was currently banging on the door. despite the loud music booming throughout the entire house, you could still recognise that voice anywhere.

park jongseong aka your overprotective older brother.

“shit!” you whisper yell, terrified at possibly getting caught, “what do we do!”

“y- yeah bro?” jake signals you to keep quiet, the man thankfully much more calm in the situation compared to you.

“sooji is here, she’s asking for you! she looks so fucking hot- wait why the hell are you even in your room dude??”

men.

you look up at jake with knives in your eyes but he only responds by pinching your cheeks and with that stupid smirk you love to hate. although you’re currently in panic mode because of your brother, jake’s small action has you wanting to kick your feet at how adorable that was.

“alright give me a sec, i’ll meet you downstairs!”

you’re finally able to breath once jay’s footsteps fade away, leaving you and jake alone again.

“i'm gonna head down or he’ll get sus. give it 5 minutes for me to distract him before you leave okay?” the man hurries off towards the door, all the while you’re left sitting there, partially confused.

confused about why you were currently annoyed with the fact that jake was on his way to see some girl name sooji. knowing his fuck boy self, she’d probably be replacing your spot and that killed you inside.

“what’s wrong?” he says, bringing you out of your delusional thoughts. the man walks back towards the bed, one hand reaching out to place some stray hairs behind your ear, “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say this is the look of jealousy.”

“shut up sim.”

“you’re so cute,” he chuckles, not before leaning down to kiss the side of your lips, just softly but surely enough to leave you feeling secretly giddy inside. “can i come over tonight?”

luckily you were able to stop yourself from screaming HELL YES because the embarrassment that would bring was not something you were ready for. so you reply in a way you have always been good at.

“sure you won’t be too busy with sooji? seems like she’s here just for you tonight.”

“narh. besides, i still have something to prove to you,” his gaze moves down to your legs, shamelessly raising his brows before focusing back to your lips, “ain’t that right babygirl?”

end.

2023 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.  

[chr0llossexygf]

IN RUINS

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

“ what happened?” hotch says standing infront of the big white board that had some very gruesome pictures of 5 victims splayed out on a park bench. he’s standing tall and strong with his hands crossed in his dark grey suit. he’s looking at you and spencer, who’s walking in right behind you slamming the door close.

“ It’s her fault.” spencer says quickly moving to the other side of the room opposite you, trying to get as far away from you as possible.

you take a deep breath in trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes and cross your hands in annoyance and disappointment. “ it’s not my fault reid-”

“ woah woah what the heck happened?” morgan says pushing himself back in the precinct chair watching you and spencer. he looks at spencer, he sees the strong look of disgust and annoyance spencer is shooting at you. he looks at you, he notices you looking at spencer with a disappointed look.

“ she told the unsubs family we are after the unsub-” spencer spits out looking over at hotch, waiting for him to yell at you or lecture you.

“ wait spence we don’t even know who the unsub is. what do you mean?” jj says turning her head to look at spencer confusion written on her face. “ exactly! thank you jj!” you reply throwing your hands up.

“ michael miller is our unsub hotch.” spencer says completely ignoring your attempt to reason with him, his eyes stay on hotch waiting for him to snap at you or just lecture you. “ wait a minute i thought michael miller had a solid alibi.” morgan says laying back in his chair resting his arms on the arm rests. “ he does have a solid alibi it checks out-” spencer cuts you off. “ it does not check out!” spencer says.

“ yes it does! hotch we asked his dad who confirmed his son came home at 8:30 pm from football practice.” you say growing impatient looking at hotch, hotch’s eyebrows are furrowed tightly. his arms are still crossed listening to you and spencer bicker back and fourth.

“ just because his dad showed the tiniest bit of concern about his son when the fbi showed up to his doorstep does not make him a reliable source, just because you never had a dad who showed any bit of concern and now when you finally see a dad care about their kid does not mean you should not fall into their trap just because you never had a trap to fall into.” spencer spits out finally looking at you.

he watches as your expression hardens. he watches as humiliation and embarrassment fill your once determined eyes, the determined eyes who tried to reason with spencer at-least 4 minutes ago. 4 minutes, that’s how long it takes for your perspective of someone to change. he watches as your eyebrows tremble, a habit you have when your trying to fight back tears. he watches as your throat trembles too, probably trying to fight back that agonising choke you get when your about to cry.

the entire room goes quiet. spencers gaze remains on you, slowly watching your soul shatter because of his words. your gaze remains on spencer, slowly feeling your soul shatter because of his words.

the door that spencer slammed close 4 minutes ago opens, rossi and emily walking in. “ michael millers alibi checks out. we’ve got pictures of him at football practice from 5pm to 8:25pm. he wouldn’t have had the time to commit the murders.” rossi says opening the door for emily. “ also his teammates described him as an extrovert and outgoing which is not what we profiled the unsub to be.” emily says with her hands inside her pockets nodding looking at everyone surrounding the table.

“ i feel as though we interrupted something.” rossi says eyeing everyone in the room raising an eyebrow in confusion. he could feel the tension. emily could too. which is why she immediately looks over at morgan for answers. morgan looks at her for a split second before returning his gaze on you.

“ y/n-” spencer attempts. he tries to bring himself to take a step towards you, but it’s like his words somehow built a barrier between you and him that he now can’t even physically cross. or maybe he’s just scared that if he takes a step towards you, you’ll take a step back. away from him.

you swallow the gut wrenching feeling of tears crawling up your throat. you look down to your converse. “ i’m gonna go…uhm get coffee.” you say turning around immediately walking towards the door. “ excuse me.” you whisper pushing past rossi and emily.

“ oh wonder boy..” garcia says through the tv screen, her bright purple tinted lips which usually wear a bright smile on her face now wearing a frown. her tone disappointed as she presses her heart eye fuzzy emoji pen into her cheek. “ i uhm did my usual background checking on the uhm..list of potential unsubs and a uhm…scott anderson has a sketchy background. i’ve just sent his file to you my pretties.” garcia says stuttering quite a few times finding it hard to sneak her usually bubbly nicknames into the conversation after what had just happened. “ thank you garcia. jj take y/n and check out scott anderson.” hotch says looking at jj his arms finally by his side.

jj nods standing up walking towards the door “ i-i can go” spencer says turning his body towards jj. “ stay.” hotch replies his voice stern and bold. he looks at spencer his eyebrows furrowed.

jj closes the door. “ sit.” hotch says to spencer pointing to the empty seat at the table, spencer slowly walks towards the seat sitting down. “ you shouldn’t have said that spencer.” hotch says crossing his hands. “ hotch-” spencer attempts but is quickly cut off, “ i’m not finished. I get it. your worried spencer. your scared-”

“ hotch-” spencer is cut off once again. “ you may think your hiding it well spencer but your not. we know the unsub is targeting female victims which have similar features to l/n. if your too close to the case spencer-” it’s spencer’s turn to now cut hotch off. “ but i’m not too close to the case hotch!” spencer replies. he wanted the similarities between you and the victims to only be in his head because he wanted only him, himself to notice the similarities between you and the victims. you both have the same hair color, hair length, both considered to be attractive, both have similar personalities, and similar taste in clothing. he didn’t want it to be true. but now he knows that they are, and they’re not just in his head he’s even more worried.

“ your stuttering spencer. you do that when your worried or nervous.” emily says pulling a chair from the table. spencer shoots his eyes away from hotch to emily’s. his gaze softens a bit, emily’s tone wasn’t like hotchs. it wasn’t as stern or bold. it was rather understanding and gentle. “ i just cant control myself around her.” spencer says looking down at the picture of the fourth victim who had been wearing the exact same pair of converse your wearing now. “ well your going to have to learn how to control yourself pretty boy. you shouldn’t have said that.” morgan says looking at spencer. spencer sighs hiding his face in his hands. “ i just..god i’m so stupid.” spencer groans rubbing his tired eyes.

“ stupidity is what ended my third marriage.” rossi says crossing his hands leaning against the bulletin board with a small chuckle, morgan looks at rossi and laughs. “ well thank god pretty boy isn’t married. he’d be the new rossi.” morgan says tilting his head to the side looking at spencer trying to lighten the mood, spencer who still has his head in his hands. there’s a million thoughts going through his head, all of them are about you. all of them are about how he should apologize. is he even allowed to apologize? will you let him apologize to you? would you accept his apology? what if you didn’t? did he just ruin his friendship with you? no screw friendship, he doesn’t just want to be friends. he wouldn’t be as sensitive as he is to this case if he just wanted to remain friends. he’s in love with you. spencer reid is in love with you. and he just potentially ruined any slight chance of ever having you know that he loves you. just because he’s stupid and didn’t think before he spoke.

“ are you okay?” jj says both hands on the steering wheel turning around to look at you next to her, in the passenger seat. your heads turnt towards the window, your picking at your nails. a habit of yours. you turn to look at jj and nod. “ yeah i’m fine why wouldn’t i be?” you ask tilting your head to the side with a confusing smile. you know exactly why your not okay. but for some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to actually be upset over it. what’s there to be upset about? what spencer said is true. he’s not wrong. why are you making excuses for him? what he said was not okay. totally not okay. why do you have to make excuses for every male figure in your life for when they’ve done something wrong? why do you always make them the victim and you the villain. you just don’t wanna lose them right? because you know that if your the victim and their the villain they’ll never apologise and the entire relationship will disappear, it always does.

“ what spencer said-” jj is talking in that tone, that tone that she would speak in whenever something was wrong. in a motherly kind of tone. you immediately shake your head, “ it’s- it’s fine jj really, i don’t care. can we just please forget it ever happened? lets just work on the case.” you say running a hand through your hair biting your lower lip trying to stop your voice from trembling, you know when your about to cry and you have that heavy feeling in your throat? you swallow it hard. you turn your head to look at the window not waiting for a response from jj. jj clears her throat, “ no yeah of course.” she nods smiling turning her head back around.

“ this should be it…” jj mumbles stopping the car, parked infront of a 2 story cabin. you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. “ it looks like no one’s home, there’s no car. we profiled that the unsub would have a van or a truck..” jj says closing the car door looking at the house. “ maybe he wouldn’t leave something so valuable to him outside, to the eye of the public. he’s possessive he thinks the entire world revolves around him he probably thinks someone would try to steal it.” you reply reaching in your pocket for your id. jj doing the same thing. you two walk to the front door, you in the front,

you knock on the door. you put your hand against your hip waiting for the door to open. “ we should ask the neighbours. maybe they’ll know-” you knock on the door again. “ scott anderson. fbi.” you say knocking on the door again. jj puts both of her hands on her waist. “ looks like he’s not home-” your cut off by the door swinging open.

you immediately turn your head around. “ scott anderson?” you ask looking at the man infront of you. you know it’s scott anderson, penelope had already sent his id picture on the drive over. he looks at you, then looks at jj. “ who are you..” he says looking directly at jj. “ i’m agent l/n with the fbi and this is agent jareau. do you mind if we come inside?” you ask smiling holding up your id.

he doesn’t even bother looking at your id. “ yeah whatever.” he moves to the side, making room for you and jj. you nod turning around to look at jj. she nods. you step inside jj following you.

“ do you live alone?” you ask analysing the house, its organised. weird for someone that’s his age. “ uhm yeah i do. what’s wrong with that?” he asks crossing his hands. you chuckle, “ no no nothings wrong with that, i also lived alone when i was 17.” you reply smiling. “ i’m 19.” he says looking at you, eyeing you up and down smiling. “ your pretty organised for a 19 year old.” jj says raising an eyebrow also crossing her hands smiling. “ guess i was just raised that way.” he replies rubbing his lips together. you nod. “ how were you raised scott..if you don’t mind me asking.” you say looking around the house. “ yeah scott how did you manage to score such a house at your age. do you work?” jj asks grabbing a picture frame. “ no i don’t work-” he turns to look at jj. “ put that down.” he snaps speed walking to jj. you immediately reach for your gun.

“ right..sorry. you don’t like people touching your stuff.” jj replies throwing her hands up in defeat. he snatches the picture frame. he grabs it caressing it gently, jj looks at you with wide eyes. you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “ scott. why do you have a picture of my colleague framed?” jj asks looking at the frame scott’s holding. your eyes widen.

“ oh god oh god. where’s y/n and jj?” penelope says aggressively tapping on her keyboard. “ what? what’s wrong?” spencer is the first to respond shooting up from the office chair just at the mention of your name. “ they’re at scott anderson’s why?” hotch says turning around, away from the white board to the tv. garcia starts tearing up, “ i-i did some deep digging and scott anderson has a blog about y/n..” garcia says in a shaky tone. no. no. no. no. no not again please.

his heart stopped for a split second. his hand start sweating. the air has been sucked out of his lungs. why is it so hard to breathe? why is there no air to breathe? there’s a million thoughts running through his head, they’re still about you. but now they’re worse. your in danger. your with the unsub. the unsub who has already killed five people. your in the same house with the unsub. the unsub who has a blog dedicated to you. and the last time you saw spencer you were teary eyed. no it can’t be the last time. no. please be safe.

his sweaty shaky hands reach for his phone. he clicks on your contact. hotch grabs his phone and immediately calls jj. spencer immediately puts the phone up against his ear. it rings. rossi and emily immediately stand up, “ penelope send us the address to scott’s house now.” emily says walking to the door. it’s still ringing. spencer starts biting his nails. his hearts pounding. the ringing of the phone case is haunting him. what is happening on the other side of the phone. why aren’t you answering. you always answer the phone. why is it still ringing? y/n why aren’t you answering.

“ god damn it!” spencer shouts into the phone as it keeps ringing. morgan stands up, “ hotch we gotta go.” he says standing up shoving his phone into his pocket.

the ringing stops. spencer’s heart stops. his breathing stops. everyone in the room looks at spencer waiting for any kind of confirmation. “ y/n you’ve gotta get out of there with jj!” spencer says stuttering with a shaky voice. hes scared. hes so so scared. hes never been more scared in his life. it’s quiet. why is it quiet? why aren’t you answering? what’s wrong. god y/n.

“ hey mom.” you reply. spencer takes a deep breath in. he stops biting his nails. he wipes his wet fingers on his pants. his hearts racing. your in danger. why are you calling him mom if your not in danger. oh god. he feels like he can’t breathe again. he can’t focus. he can’t do this. he can’t do this. he can’t do this without you. breathe spencer. she’s in danger spencer. she’s all that matters.

“ y/n. god i…” he chokes. “ you already figured it out didn’t you.” he says his throat feeling scratchy. he hears you giggle on the other side of the phone, your laugh erupts the butterflies in his stomach. under any other circumstances he would absolutely hate the butterflies in his stomach and would be mad at you for making him feel such way. but now they bring a sense of comfort, they make him feel normal for a split second. that this is not that big of a deal, he’s just calling the girl he really likes and he got butterflies from hearing her beautiful laughs.

“ yeah of course. i called aunt lizzie for her birthday mom i’m not stupid.” you respond. god your voice is so beautiful, but he can hear it. he can fear the slight fear in your voice. maybe other people wouldn’t hear it, but he can. spencer can. and it’s killing him. it’s tearing his heart apart. it’s making his legs shake. “ d-did he hurt you- is he gonna hurt you?” spencer says gripping his jeans tightly. he hears you laugh again, “ yeah mom.” you say.

he feels his legs going weak.

[corollaservant]

anyways...

(suggestive) mess up ur white tee w jjk men

based on this 2021 tiktok challenge lol

Gojo: bro is horny before you even start to film. he doesn’t even notice your nails or understand really what the fuck is going on, all he knows is you have your hands on his growing bulge and he can’t concentrate. he snatches your phone with his huge palms and throws it across the room, you shriek as he pins you down and rubs himself on you. you never finish filming the challenge and he notices your nails after he sees the scratches on his back under the bathroom light as you clean him up.

Geto: he is used to these shenanigans of yours, of course he doesn't approve (he doesn't even know why one would use tiktok in the first place) but goes along with it. after a couple of takes he is bored but without realizing it hard- it’s when he notices your nails which are done beautifully, “these look cute babe” he compliments while holding your hand and dragging you to sit on his lap, his cock poking at you playfully.

Nanami: he doesn’t see you film until a flash hits his grey sweatpants and he turns to you confused. “babe, what is this?” he is genuinely curious so he closes the book he's reading. you explain and he laughs, he doesn't really mind, after about 10 takes though he is painfully hard so he stops you and kisses you. “let's put these pretty nails to good use now, alright?”

Toji: bro won't even ask, he doesn’t give a fuck at this point, he lets you do whatever you want as long as his face isn't being filmed, what he doesnt know is that your stupid tiktoks get him hard, you've been palming him for 15 minutes and he’s had enough. he will grab your phone and free his cock, you are not getting it back until he comes in your pretty blabbering mouth (you explained the challenge but he wasn't listening). as for the nails, he’ll notice while having you bent over as you're gripping the sheets, he thinks they suit you but will not comment on it to tease you.

Sukuna: you are neither explaining nor filming in the first place. he’ll glance at your new set once and within seconds have you pump his cock with them. “pretty nails” is all he’ll say after. “you didn't need a challenge to have me fuck you.”

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [3]

・❥ You finally meet Alastor’s friends, only to then find your tea party rudely interrupted by an angry mob.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: no use of y/n.

~ 7.9k words

warnings: adult themes

“Um…hi?”

The group of demons scooted a few steps closer to you, anxious to get a better look at the unfamiliar face in front of them. Their expressions were mixed, suspicion, excitement, confusion. Their eyes scanned up and down your figure, and you suddenly felt awfully self-conscious.

You leaned back slightly from the onlookers, as much as Alastor’s hold on you would allow. His arm was snaked around your elbow, locking you in place, which was the only comfort in this very strange little world.

The Hazbin Hotel, just like that Imp and Alastor had described to you earlier in the day. The question is, how did you get here, exactly?

These demons didn’t seem unfriendly, or cruel. They just seemed shocked to see you here, most likely the same feelings you’re experiencing right now.

Did Alastor do that? He must have, but how? Through the ring?

And, what about your money, purse, wallet, and keys? Did that asshole run off with them after you vanished? You held back the urge to sigh, what a day.

“Alastor, mind explaining who this is?” The gray, shorter lady in front asked, arms crossed as she regarded you cautiously with a single eye.

Alastor only grinned mischievously, a small chuckle escaping his lips, before turning his gaze towards you. He tugged you forward gently, and your back straightened as you smiled widely.

“Well, isn’t it obvious with that charming smile? She’s my wife!”

Silence. Utter silence, so silent in fact, you swore you could hear gunshots ringing from a few blocks away.

Your eyebrows shot up, heat creeping on your cheeks as you processed his words. You side-eyed him, a question behind your glance.

Is he serious?

The platinum-blonde-haired woman's mouth dropped open, her eyes glimmering. That gray lady only reeled back slightly, eyeing both you and Alastor with even more suspicion.

“Whaaaaaa..?” The pink spider demon quirked an eyebrow, his gaze darting to a much shorter black-and-white feline man, who shot him a confused expression right back. The tiny Cyclops lady only jumped in place giddily, her hands to her mouth in glee.

It wasn’t until you felt a rumbling beside you, did you turn to find Alastor laughing, his shoulders shaking as he put a hand to his mouth.

The even more shocked faces in the crowd faltered, as they watched Alastor collect himself.

“Ah, to see your faces like this is quite amusing.” Alastor chuckled, taking a claw and lifting it to his eye to wipe a false tear.

“Real funny.” The winged cat grumbled, rolling his eyes. The woman in the red suit seemed to deflate, a frown on her lips. She looked like she was genuinely sad by the news. A similar pang hit your heart, before shaking it off. Right, he wasn’t your husband. It was just an act. You knew this, so why did you feel this way?

You heard Alastor clear his throat, before gesturing to you once more. “This darling belle before you is here because.. she is interested in redemption through the hotel!”

Huh? When in the world did that thought ever cross your mind? Your head snapped to him, and you caught the mischievous glint in his eye as the platinum-blonde lady in front of you beamed, the sparkle in her eyes almost blinding you as she bounced on her toes.

“Really?!” She squealed, before crossing the distance between the two of you. She leaned down slightly, meeting your gaze. “Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! Although, I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about it already."

Oh, this must be that daughter of the imp. The one that appeared before you before the store you worked at had opened, the one that told you his daughter owned the Hazbin Hotel. She didn’t look like an imp, though. You shook that thought off for a moment as she conversed with you.

“Not really,” you confessed, “I only know about you through Alastor.”

“Well, I’d be pleased to show you around and give you all the information you need to make a decision.” Charlie reached out her hand, a welcoming gesture. You hesitated before your eyes flicked up to Alastor, a thousand questions in your gaze.

But, what about your things? Why were you suddenly thrust into this situation? When were you going to get an explanation of how exactly you got here?

‘Go along with it, we’ll talk later.’ Alastor’s eyes seemed to speak, behind that charming grin. Just like it did the first time you met him. At least, you hoped that was what he was saying. You were going to talk to him no matter what, anyway.

You slipped your arm from his hold and grasped Charlie’s hand, and she tugged you beside her as she walked towards the group of demons. You felt a bit nervous as you approached them, seeing as their eyes had been on you since the moment you landed in their lobby.

“These two are our residents at the hotel! This is Sir. Pentious.” Charlie gestured to the tall snake demon, his hood covered his face slightly as he smiled bashfully.

“It’sssss a pleassure to meet you, my dear!” He said, clasping his hands together, and you smiled warmly in return. Sir. Pentious seemed like a respectful, modest demon. A rare gem. He reminded you of Alastor but with a flare of innocence to him. Or, at least, less murderous.

Charlie turned slightly towards that taller, fuzzy spider dressed rather scantily. “And, this is Angel Dust. He was our first guest when we originally opened!”

“How ya’ doin’, toots?” He winked at you, that golden tooth catching your eye as it shimmered in the warm lighting. He seemed to exude an air of confidence and charm that attracted attention effortlessly. At least, he was the first person to catch your eye when you materialized in front of them. It might just have been the bright pink fuzz, though.

“This is Husk… Niffty… Vaggie…” Charlie continued, introducing you to the rest of the staff. You stood beside her, patiently waiting for it to be over so you could speak to Alastor. Who was standing a ways behind you, no doubt tracing your figure as you slowly met each member. Finally, when you had finished greetings, Charlie turned to you. “I think it’s time we do a little tour of the hotel, get you familiar with everything!”

Your smile faltered for a moment. Right, you weren’t totally done yet. As much as you wanted to learn more about where you just dropped into, you had a very, very long day. Your plush, weighted covers that were sitting patiently back at home were calling to you. Still, Charlie turned towards the opposite side of the room, before glancing behind and beckoning you to follow. You obliged, keeping pace with her as she began to speak.

She guided you through multiple different locations, the kitchen, the lounge, and the bar. Soon, you were walking down a long hallway, rows of doors facing both sides of you. Were all these rooms vacant? Seemed like the hotel wasn’t very popular, though you weren’t surprised.

It wasn't until you entered a large sub-room, with a very lavish mahogany-wood staircase, that you stopped in your tracks and looked at the large frame hanging above you. Splashes of color filled your vision as you gazed at a large painting on the opposite side of the stairs. It depicted a large glistening, blue lake nestled in a sunny clearing around rows and rows of lush trees. At the edges of the lapping waves, fawns danced with small winged children in fields of sunlit flowers. Some held their hands to their mouths, giggling in joy as they frolicked carefree in the afternoon breeze.

You gawked at the painting for a few more moments, your eyes tracing the perfect lines and forms of each figure. The wings of the angels looked like actual feathers, carefully crafted through paint tools by a skilled hand.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Charlie swooned beside you, gazing up at the portrait. You nodded slowly in response, it was a very beautiful painting. Is that what Heaven looked like? If that was the case, you didn't mind giving redemption a try anymore.

“Who made this?”

“One of our staff here, they are our newest addition to the crew! I’d introduce the two of you, but they’re attending an art show tonight. An auction, I think. I’m sure you two would get along great, though!”

Yes, maybe you’d like that. Charlie continued on her path, as you rounded a corner into another hallway, the lights of the lobby off in the distance. You exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. You could finally speak to Alastor about the questions reeling in your head.

When you entered the lobby, the rest of the crew had dispersed. Angel Dust was lounging at the bar, offering Vaggie a drink who declined it curtly. Husker was growling something to Niffty, who was attempting to stab a bug atop the bar counter.

Alastor hadn’t followed you on that tour, instead, you found him leaning comfortably against the side of a wall. He stood there, a microfiber cloth in one hand and his red-tinted monocle in the other. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth across the small surface, wiping it clean of any imperfections.

It wasn’t until his gaze lifted and met yours, that the cloth vanished from his hand, and he adjusted the monocle back on his face. He straightened, resting slightly against his cane as the two of you approached him.

“So, what do you think?” Charlie pivoted to face you, a large smile on her lips. She looked so hopeful, and you did not want to say anything to hurt her feelings. You glanced at Alastor, who stood a little ways behind Charlie. His eyes were unreadable, that small smile of no help. Great, you were on your own with this one.

“Well, I think the hotel is very pretty.” You responded slowly, choosing your words carefully as you spoke.

“What about staying here?” Charlie leaned in slightly closer, bouncing on her toes as she beamed at you.

“Um, about that, It’s a nice offer and all but…” Charlie’s face dropped, her eyes glistening as she visibly deflated before your eyes. You grimaced, before taking a step closer, apologetically waving your hands. “But, I’m just pretty exhausted right now, so I think a good night's sleep will allow me to give you a better answer.”

Charlie perked at that. Even if it wasn't a ‘yes’ it was still better than your full rejection. She nodded, “That works with me!”

“Wonderful!” A voice buzzed behind Charlie before Alastor appeared next to her. He turned to the apple-cheeked woman, before widening his grin. “It seems like our new friend is rather tired, so I will do the honors and show them to their room.”

Wait, room? As in, here at the hotel? That was not your original plan, but, if it meant you were finally able to speak with the red demon, so be it.

Charlie agreed, before waving farewell to you and joining Vaggie on the couch. You turned to face Alastor, and he offered you his arm. You felt like ignoring it for a moment, and just walking beside him. Some kind of payback for suddenly dumping you here and into the arms of strangers.

After a moment, you sighed in defeat and laced your arm with his. He turned you to a second hallway and began to lead you down the winding corridor. After you were out of earshot, Alastor cleared his throat beside you, before turning his head slightly to face you.

“I’m surprised to see you here so soon, my dear. I knew you’d appear eventually, with how easily trouble seems to find you.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear how I even got here in the first place.” You replied sternly, prodding him for an explanation.

“Why, the ring of course!” He spoke, gesturing to your bare finger. “I embedded it with magic that would take you to safety if you were ever to be manhandled again while I am not present.”

You were silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Alastor put some kind of spell on the ring to protect you? Had that been there since he originally placed it on your finger? Now you were beginning to understand the strange words he said back in the tailoring room when he mentioned the ring being a charm for good luck. Heat began to creep on your cheeks, as you realized how offly sweet that was of him.

“Well, then I suppose I must thank you. If it weren’t for you, I may have gotten more than just my money and bag taken.”

“Ah, so that is what it was. Well, you don’t need to worry any longer, my dear. This hotel is safe from any kind of danger.” He patted your hand assuringly as you walked, “Which is why I only offered the idea back there, as I believe it benefits you more than anyone here.”

Alastor did all this because he cared about your well-being? The ring, the teleportation, living here, the killing. All for you. Even, your “relationship” with him was just that. Your mind went back to when he had laughed in the lobby, like the thought of being with you was that big of a joke to tell all his friends. He could have just not said anything! And yet, he acted so gentle and kind to you, even asking for your permission to kill your boss, just for asking you on a date!

Sure, you’ve only met Alastor like, what, twice? So, you weren’t expecting such a serious step in a relationship to be taken so fast, nor anything similar. But, there was no way Alastor had been doing all this out of the kindness of his heart, he’s the Radio Demon.

There had to be a real reason. He hasn’t even communicated his feelings on the matter, does he expect you to read every thought behind his gaze? You frowned, irritation setting on your face.

“I’m surprised you did all this,” you start, taking a slight step away from Alastor as you slip your arm out of his hold, continuing to keep pace with his footsteps, “seeing as you think what I have experienced this past week is so funny.”

Alastor halted in his tracks, and you were jerked slightly as you were pulled back from the hold on his arm. He turned his head to you, his ears flattened slightly as he searched your gaze. He tapped his claws against his cane, fast and erratic as he observed you.

“Are you referring to what I said when I introduced you?” He questioned slowly, That smile creeping a little higher as he tried to keep up the charm. You crossed your arms, attempting a stern stance as you took another step back.

“Yes, I didn’t exactly expect to be the punchline to your dismissive jokes.”

“My intentions were not to make light of recent events, I can assure you,” Alastor cleared his throat, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips, “I simply wanted to gauge their reaction to such a statement, as I’ve spoken before, one must always be prepared for every situation. And, you must stop referring to them as my ‘friends’, I hardly know them.”

You didn’t have time to process his strange words before Alastor reached an arm out towards you, beckoning for you to take his hand. You only hesitated a second before crumbling, your fingers brushing softly against Alastor’s palm as he lifted your hand towards him. With one digit, he traced up your ring finger, before settling just above your knuckle. You hitched your breath, watching as a string of green light wrapped around your finger. It thickened, before a light green cloud of smoke poured from the light. Leaning down, Alastor lightly blew against your finger, and the smoke dispersed. Your eyes widened when that familiar, golden band began to glint against the hallway lights.

“There, now do you see? My words have been nothing but truthful, my doe.”

His fingers stayed on your hand a little longer, brushing softly against your knuckles, before he withdrew. You pulled your hand closer, twisting your finger until you could see it, that little rose-gold A etched onto the ring’s surface. A warm smile crept onto your lips as you inspected it. You kind of missed the feeling of it snuggled against your skin.

“Well, when you put it like that...” you trailed off, and Alastor grinned widely, accepting your response with a grin as he sidled close to you, motioning to the door in front of him. You turned, your eyes landing on the small 7 etched in gold against the wood. Was this your room?

“Am I staying here?” You questioned, turning to Alastor.

“Preferably, and it is a short distance from my room. Should you ever acquire my assistance, of course.”

“Where is your room?”

Alastor turned, one claw pointed directly across the little hallway towards a replica of your door. Okay.. his room was literally ten feet from you, he wasn’t playing when he said it was a “short” distance. Were you complaining, though?

Suddenly, a yawn overcame you, and your hand lifted to shield your gaping mouth as you sighed softly. God, you were awfully exhausted, mentally and physically. Alastor watched you rub your eyes, before he softened, that smile fading just a tad as his eyes glanced at the clock hung on the wall near your door.

“It seems like it has gotten late, I apologize for keeping you from your beauty sleep.” He bowed his head respectfully to you, withdrawing closer into the shadows. “I do hope you’ll consider the offer of staying at the hotel, better than the neighborhoods crawling with thugs back in the city.”

You nodded, smiling at him as your fingers snaked around the door handle. “I will think about it, don’t worry. I did find some interest in Charlie’s words when we went on that tour.”

“Wonderful. I bid you a good night then, my doe.”

You twisted the handle, backing slowly into the shaded room. You sent a small wave, smiling at him as you shut the door. Your surroundings were drenched in darkness, and you placed your forehead against the cool, wooden frame. You sighed, letting your muscles come loose finally in the quiet of your private domain.

Wow, what a day.

You awoke the next morning, dark circles under your eyes as you groaned sleepily from the rays of morning light hitting your face. The plush white covers slid around you, a large pillow in your hold as you pulled it close to your chest. You snuggled your face deeper into it, intent on falling back into blissful dreams.

Except, nothing came. Your brain just kept prodding you to wake, to rise from the warmth of your makeshift nest and greet the day.

‘To greet Alastor!’ It whispered excitedly, and you stirred again.

What time was it? Waking in a room different from yours always throws off your sleep schedule. Turning your head slightly, you eyed the digital clock on the bedside table. It was seven in the morning, you had slept for almost ten hours. Impressive.

Slowly, you rose from the bed, your arms lifting above your head as you took a big stretch. Yawning, you pivoted, your feet landing on the cold, unfamiliar wood floor.

You sat there for a moment, your eyelids lifting slowly as you let yourself wake naturally.

What was your plan today? It seemed like Alastor insisted on you staying at the hotel, as well as Charlie. But, you had a place of your own. One that you rented, but with all your stuff nonetheless.

You still had a job, but seeing as the Hazbin Hotel provided everything of necessity for free, it wouldn’t hurt to lessen your load and start working part-time. Plus, less Alan. Yay!

Maybe, you’d go home later, collect what you needed and come back. You could even see if Alastor would do his little teleportation trick, it wasn’t so bad being pulled around like that if it cut your travel time to only a few seconds.

It seemed like this was your new room too, which wasn’t so bad. There was a bathroom, a balcony, a dining table, and basic furniture. And, Alastor was right across the hall! You were surprised when he had placed you so close to his own living quarters.

Wasn’t your relationship just a farce, like he had joked in the lobby yesterday night? Maybe, he felt you’d feel more comfortable being near someone familiar.

Maybe, he felt more comfortable having you close to him.

These thoughts spun through your head as you got ready for the day. Your face was soaked with water as you reached for a hand towel on the rack next to the bathroom sink, the soft cotton refreshing as you sank your face into it.

Weirdly, there was a small stack of fresh clothes on top of your dresser. Also weirdly, in your size. Who could have put them there? You examined them anyway, finding them not too far off from your normal style before slipping into the garments.

Opening the curtains, you pushed open the balcony doors. That cool breeze brushed against your ears as you inhaled a deep breath. A smile playing on your lips as you let the warmth of a new day hit your cheeks.

It was nice here, actually. The hotel was far enough away from the streets that the smell of garbage and booze didn’t hit your nose as you inhaled the breeze again. You couldn’t hear the loud profanities or honking cars from all the way up here.

It was amazing. Maybe, staying here was going to be pretty good.

You left the fresh air draft into your room, as you walked to the door. Your fingers caressed the handle for only a moment as you hesitated, before you shook yourself and took a deep breath. The door slowly creaked open, squeaking as it inched backward. Your head slowly peaked out of the door, your eyes scanning down the hall, before eventually landing in front of you.

Alastor’s door. The wood was dark, walnut-brown with golden borders that glinted underneath the wall sconces. There was nothing unusual about it, but it was it being his door that made it stand out against all the identical rooms in this hotel.

Should you knock? Ask him for directions back to the lobby? No, that was going to be weird. You didn’t want him to think you were using him or anything. No matter how much of a gentleman he acted.

Instead, you simply slipped through the threshold and quietly shut the door behind you.

Okay… so you definitely remember your room being on the right side of the hall when you came here last night. Which meant the lobby was somewhere left. Nice, at least we’re getting somewhere.

Turning, you begin your trek down the long hallway. Your eyes would occasionally glance at paintings, or your reflection on wall-length mirrors, as you walked. It wasn’t long before you arrived at a larger sub room, with a few pieces of furniture like benches and side tables. There was a TV in one corner, with stacks of newspapers on a coffee table in front of it.

It seemed to be like a small lounge, and you noted that in your head for later. The problem was, the room then split into three separate hallways. Your shoulders dropped, and your lips curved downward at the sight. Why was this place hellbent on meddling with your biggest weakness?

Crossing the room to one corridor, you peeked around the corner. There was nothing familiar you could pick out from it, no distant noises that gave you an inking of a guess. You gulped, how exactly were you supposed to get back to civilization now?

“There you are, my dear!”

You turned, your back hitting the wall as you watched the red demon stroll towards you. He stopped a few steps away, a pleased look on his face at the sight of you.

“Alastor! I was hoping to catch a familiar face out here.”

“Well, aren’t you glad that face was me?” He beamed, extending his arm out for you to take. Without hesitation, you slid your arm into his hold, locking at the elbows.

“Of course! You are the only familiar face here, honestly. I might have forgotten your friends' names during the night.” You smiled apologetically.

“Don’t worry, they are quite colorful characters, these people. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“They seem to be, although I'm not sure whether they like me yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Alastor smiled, patting your hand assuring. “you exude a warmth and charm that it is impossible not to be drawn to.”

Heat crept into your cheeks, and you averted your gaze to the ground.

“Take those silly fellows that can’t seem to stop bothering you, always courting for your affection, my word, just practically begging for your attention!”

Well, that was a more positive light on what you’ve been through this past week.

“If those are the kind of people that want my attention. Then, maybe I don’t want any of it at all.”

Alastor was silent for a moment as the two of you continued walking, you felt his arm in your hold tense slightly. Was he thinking about something?

“Come now, my dear. There are plenty of individuals who would cherish every moment spent in your company, without resorting to such antics.”

You lifted your head and met his gaze, and he only continued to smile at you. His eyes were genuine, as he looked at you. One might even consider them soft. Is that how Alastor felt when the two of you spent time together?

You hadn’t spoken very much to him, at least on personal matters. But, with how the others in the hotel regarded him, it seemed he didn’t do that ever.

Has he ever told them about his mother or her recipes? Trusted them to fix his clothes, to care for him? Alastor seemed to put distance—figuratively and literally—between him and others.

But, with you? Well, calling a strange woman your wife the first time you laid eyes on her is rather bold and personal for such a man.

You felt flustered at the thought that you were the one Alastor chose for such things. You averted your gaze again, a sheepish smile on your lips.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“It’s nothing at all. Why don’t you join me for some coffee? There is a patio right at the front of the hotel, it’s my favorite place to spend my mornings.”

He wanted to spend time with you? Well, you weren’t going to argue with that.

“Of course, I'd love to! You’ll just have to lead the way.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The two of you walked in silence, as you passed through another long hallway. You could hear faint voices in the distance, growing louder at each step.

Was everyone else in the lobby? Would you have to greet them all again?

You saw the large threshold of the front room, and saw the glimpse of the large stained-glass front doors peeking from the corner. Right as you were about to walk through, Alastor nudged you to the side of the hall, and you turned to find a small set of stairs leading up a level.

You tried to memorize the path in your mind, for next time. The voices from the lobby grew more audible now, and you could hear what sounded like Charlie and Sir. Pentious speaking. A conversation about his path to redemption.

Isn’t that what they expected you to do now? Beg to Heaven to let you through the pearly gates because you repented for your sins? You doubted whether that was even possible.

As you neared the staircase, you turned your head to the lobby before looking back to Alastor. Were they just going to ignore the rest of the residents? You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Are we not going to say hello to your friends?”

“Why bother? They have their routines, we have ours.”

You didn’t say anything to that, instead, just let him glide the two of you up the stairs towards a pair of glass doors. You could see the light-red hues of morning peeking from the drawn shades.

Carefully, Alastor twisted the handle and pulled open the doors, that cool breeze hitting your face as soon as you stepped through the doorway.

“Well, here we are.” He spoke, slowly unlacing his arm from yours.

In front of you, was a small tea table and a single chair staring out at the city. A few flowers decorated along the short, metal railing in porcelain pots. Their colorful blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, as you stepped up to the table.

“Do forgive me, my dear. I seem to have forgotten a seat, I'm not used to company up here.”

With a quick snap of his fingers, a second, identical chair materialized across the table. A small radio emerged from a small pool of green fog as it dispersed on a post at one edge of the railing. It played a soft, jazzy melody as you crossed the small balcony, before positioning yourself in front of the seat to sit.

“Please, allow me.” Alastor appeared beside you, one hand on the chair’s back as he pulled it out from the table.

“Why, aren’t you just a gentleman?” You teased, before lowering yourself onto the small cushion velcroed to the chair’s seat. You felt Alastor push you closer to the table, before he lowered himself slightly to meet your gaze.

“Now, what would you like to drink? Tea, coffee, orange juice? Anything you desire, my dear.” He spoke, smiling as his nails clicked rhythmically against the table.

You told him, and with another snap of his fingers, two pieces of glassware settled upon the table. A pitcher materialized in his hand, before Alastor lowered it to your cup and began pouring the contents.

It swirled around your glass, and you watched it settle as he poured it to the brim. Your eyes trailed his hands as the pitcher melded into a coffee pot, and you watched the dark, steaming liquid land into his glass.

He didn’t add any cream or sugar, and you watched in surprise as he settled into his seat without any modifications to his drink.

“You drink your coffee black?” You asked curiously, an eyebrow quirked as you tilted your head at him.

“Mm, yes. I find that it helps sharpen the senses, and heightens one’s awareness. In a place like this, one must always have control of their surroundings. Don’t you think so?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink as you listened. He was right, in a way, about needing to be prepared for anything in Hell. But, why continue to punish yourself by taking away the few good things you could have in such a depressing realm? Maybe, Alastor didn’t think there was any good in Hell.

Watching Alastor lift the coffee to his lips, you noticed the way his entire face softened as the bitter flavor hit his tongue. His smile was so very faint now, almost a firm line, but it seemed.. peaceful. His eyes were slightly lidded, in an expression of contentedness as the breeze tickled at the fur on his ears. The music was peaceful white noise as you sat there, hand underneath your chin, gazing at Alastor as he looked out at the city, a small smile on his lips. Oh, how you so enjoyed his lipped smiles.

It was like that for a few more quiet moments, as the sky continued to lighten until Alastor turned his eyes to you. You squirmed underneath his gaze, realizing you were caught mid-ogle by him. He regarded you curiously for a few moments.

“Find anything of interest in your observation?” Alastor asked slyly, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Your ears are very fluffy” You blurted, before slapping a hand to your mouth. Alastor’s eyes widened slightly at your brazen response.

“Pardon?” He asked after a moment, the static in his tone thicker, hoarser, as the words left his lips. As if he couldn’t comprehend that was what you had landed on. Did no one ever compliment his ears? Correction, did no one ever genuinely compliment him other than to save their skin or to praise his power?

“Your ears, when the wind blows on them they puff out a little from the cold,” you practically whispered through your fingers, “I imagine if someone were to squeeze them, they'd feel so soft too, like squishing a plush teddy bear.”

You buried your face farther into your hands as those words left your lips, heat creeping onto your cheeks. Why were you thinking about touching his head? What happened to not taking too bold of steps? You did not need to overindulge him on what you thought of his ears. Jesus, you were embarrassing.

Peeking through your fingers, you saw Alastor averting his gaze, taking a sudden interest in some flowers near his chair. His ears were flattened slightly, as he adjusted the collar of his suit feverishly. His smile wavered slightly, flickering to a nervous expression. Was Alastor flustered by your comment?

“What an–ahem–unique perspective. My, you are such a charm, my dear, you truly have a way with words. Thank you for the compliment.”

There was silence again, as the tune from the radio seemed to grow slightly louder, drowning out your beating heart. You grabbed your drink, throwing your head back and downing the rest of it in one gulp. If only it was alcohol instead, so you could at least have an excuse for your comments. It was Alastor who spoke up again next, and you were relieved to be changing the topic.

“Tell me, now that you’ve gotten a little more familiar with it, what do you think of the hotel?”

“I think it’s… cute,” you answered softly, your finger circling the lip of your glass as you thought of more to say, “Charlie has a very large dream, and she seems to be the best one suited for the job with the influence she has. But, her residents…? Well, I wonder whether they have it in them to change, especially that–ah, what was his name–guy, Angel Dust? I could see Sir. Pentious being redeemed though. I’m sure he’d do good in Heaven.”

A small chuckle reverberated from Alastor’s throat as he closed his eyes, an amusing smile on his lips. You closed your mouth quickly, leaning back slightly. What was so funny about what you said?

“What?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow again as you crossed your arms.

Alastor cleared his throat, before meeting your eyes again. “Nothing, I just find the concept of a second chance awfully.. silly, you could say.”

“You don’t believe in sinners being able to go to Heaven?”

“Goodness, not at all.”

“But.. you’re helping run the hotel trying to do just that?”

“Well, yes, but it is just simple charity work. I had heard about this place on that noisy little picture box months ago, and how much the demons on the street laughed at it.” Alastor took another large sip of his coffee, adjusting his monocle slightly as he set the cup back down. “That is the problem, my dear. Every sinner in this city has had their chance at going to Heaven, back on earth. They lost it, and now, they’ll only laugh at the concept of such a thing.”

“What was life like for you?”

“Life?” Alastor raised his eyebrows at you, his claws halting mid-tap against the table's surface. His ears swiveled slightly to face you, his gaze curious.

You grimaced, you hadn’t meant to ask that out loud. Should you brush it off? Just because he told you about his mother and his radio show, doesn’t mean he was going to fill you in on his entire past. But, you were so curious! What kind of man did your false husband wake up to be every morning? What did he experience that gave him such pessimistic, ultra-realistic views?

“On Earth,” you clarified, straightening in your seat as you fidgeted with the glass in front of you, “What was it like?”

“Ah, you want to know more about the greatest era in mankind’s history? I’d love to indulge you on such a topic! You know, the first radio station was started in the 1920’s, and of course that only was the beginning of such a wonderful medium. I believe it was called KDKA, I remember exactly where I was standing when the first broadcast hit the radio, I believe it was about th–”

“No, I mean, what did you do on Earth, Alastor?” You interrupted, prodding him for a real answer. You weren’t looking for a history lesson, you wanted to know more about him.

“Me?” He sputtered, caught off guard by your question once more.

“What was your favorite thing to do when you were a child?”

Alastor looked like he wasn’t going to respond, for a moment. His eyes were squinting at you, reading your expression. Did he think you had some kind of ulterior motive? That you were going to take any information and sell it to the highest bidder against him? Your expression was genuine, however, and he only sighed. His brows furrowed in thought, as he recalled distant memories.

“Sometimes, my mother would send me to town for baking ingredients, and every time I'd choose the longest route, which was Frenchmen Street. New Orleans is famous for many things, art, food, but most importantly, music.”

“Music?”

“Indeed! Music is the heartbeat of New Orleans,” Alastor continued, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he delved into memories of his childhood. "I remember those days vividly, wandering that long, vibrant street, soaking in the melodies that filled the air. Jazz, blues, the soulful rhythms that seemed to draw in huge crowds like moths to a flame."

He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "And then there were the nights when the city truly came alive. My mother would take me to smoky jazz clubs, where the air hummed with energy and every note seemed to carry a story. I was captivated by the raw emotion of the musicians, their ability to weave tales with nothing but their instruments and their voices."

A flicker of nostalgia danced in his eyes as he recalled the details, those hidden, buried emotions rising out of him slowly. “I realized then how powerful such mediums truly were, they had the magical ability to perpetuate emotions, feed the crowds, and fuel the thoughts. Music is just another form of art, of course. I’m sure you saw our dear artist’s paintings, and I’m sure they stirred something in you, hm?”

You nodded slowly, leaning forward in your seat, enraptured in his words as they spilled from his tongue. Gosh, his voice was just so nice to listen to. That radio overlay that dripped from his tone was like white noise that tickled your brain with pleasure. You thought his laughs were cute, the way they crackled softly with static.

“I’m sure you would have been happy standing there for hours just to marvel at its beauty. Music can do the same, and when you’re a famous radio host like me,” Alastor gestured to himself, a prideful smirk on his lips, “You need that form of hypnosis to get all the listeners to tune in to the next broadcast, and to keep their interest. Without that power, I wouldn’t be as well known as I am now.”

You were sure he would still be well known for more than his radio broadcasts, with the reputation Alastor had with his… violent tendencies.

“There,” Alastor sighed, like a heavy weight was lifted off of his chest, “are you pleased with my response, my dear?”

“I think I am sated for now.” You responded with a smile, batting your eyelashes as you leaned back into your chair.

“Good, now, I believe it is my turn to ask you a question.” Alastor straightened, his claw clicking softly against the table in sync with the music buzzing in the background. You raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly in anticipation as he leaned slightly across the table.

“Have you decided on whether you are going to reside at the hotel and try redemption?”

You tensed, smiling wider as your mind raced. Sweat beaded on your eyebrow as Alastor looked at you expectantly. What was your decision? Sure, you’d get free room and board, it was no doubt safer than your home, and maybe, just maybe, redemption could actually work. But, was it enough to flip your whole life upset down, over what, a demon man who helped you out a couple of times?

“Alastor, I–”

Your voice was drowned out by a powerful explosion that rocked the patio, the radio fell from the railing and disappeared from sight, as the music faded with it. Your ears rang from the small blast, which had barely missed the wall of the hotel. Alastor’s head snapped to the source of violence, eyes narrowing as the figures of burly demons grew more visible as they approached. There were about four of them, who each held pistols, and a few rolled a grenade between their fingers.

“Angel Dust!! Come out here, you filthy skank!” One snarled from the group, fist raised towards the hotel.

“Ah shit!” You could hear the faint voice of the spider demon coming from the lobby, it sounded frantic as a head poked out from the large entrance doors.

“What did you do?!” You heard Vaggie growl, as another explosion rocked the side of the hotel.

“I sold em’ fake drugs! They thought they were buying coke, but I only gave em’ baking powder!”

“Angel, you idiot!” Vaggie snarled in response.

You shrunk back in your chair, your heart beating erratically and you watched a few more men gather on the hill. What was going to happen? Why did this always happen to you?

Alastor sighed exasperatedly, rising from his seat as he straightened his bowtie. He turned towards you, walking to your place across the table. Your hands were still resting on its surface when Alastor reached down and gently grasped them, before lifting them to your face. He laid your palms against your eyelids, adjusting your fingers to where only darkness greeted your vision.

“Just keep still just like this for now, my dear. I will be back in only a moment!” He replied chipperly, before you felt footsteps fade away from earshot. The silence didn't last very long, before your thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of screaming and strangled gasps. You felt the ground rumbling slightly under your feet, and you only shrunk deeper into your chair.

The screaming wasn't anyone familiar though, instead, it sounded like it was those drug dealers

“Yeah! Kick their ass, Alastor!” Angel Dust cheered from your left, and you perked.

Your fingers splayed slightly, as you picked between the gaps. Your vision was greeted with large, dark green tentacles that snaked in the air. They weaved around small figures who were scrambling across the clearing in a desperate attempt to survive. Some wrapped around the flailing demons, before pitching them far in the distance. Their screams faded as they disappeared from view.

You couldn’t see Alastor, but you assumed he was out of harm's way since the tentacles were doing a good job corralling the thugs. There were a few stragglers that managed to dodge his attacks, though. That became very obvious when a clawed hand reached over the railing, and you screamed as a dark gray, shark-faced man rose into sight.

He growled at you, as he landed with a thump on the old, cracked tile. A large knife was pulled from a sheath around his waist, and he twisted it between his fingers as he stalked up to you. You pressed yourself as deep into your chair as possible, your body frozen in terror.

“₩ⱧɆⱤɆ ĐØ ɎØɄ ₮Ⱨł₦₭ ɎØɄⱤɆ ₲Øł₦₲?” You heard a snarl of static from the ground, before a tentacle wrapped roughly around the shark demon’s body. His face morphed into a look of terror, right before he was flung away from the patio and beat into the ground by the large mass.

The gang of thugs were almost finished, as you finally exhaled a shaky breath. Your heart felt like it was about to burst, and your eyes darted around the area for any danger.

You shot up from the chair, scrambling to the doorway for safety. You stumbled off balance as the ground rumbled underneath your feet once more, your knees hitting the tile.

Growling in pain, you twisted your head to get a look at what had happened. Your eyes darted across them before you saw the small, cylindrical object fly towards you and land against the railing of the patio.

It erupted into a small ball of flame, before it burst into a large cloud of dark gray smoke, shaking the floor beneath you more violently as shrapnel flew. You tried to scramble away, as the large table was thrown to its side, and began to skid across the tiles towards you.

Your body couldn’t react fast enough to dodge the incoming object, instead, all you could do was throw your arms up and curl closer to yourself, screaming. Praying for mercy from the oncoming blow.

Except… nothing happened. The chaos still ensued around you, and the screams of terror and maniacal laughter still rang in your ears. You felt no pain, yet could still feel the breeze whipping against your arms as you held them up defensively. What just happened? You’re not like, double-dead, are you?

Slowly, you lowered your arms, planting them beneath you to help lift yourself from the ground. As you rose to your feet, your eyelids fluttered open.

The table was split in half, lying burnt on both sides of the patio. A slight trail of smoke wafted from their remains, and your eyes traveled across the tiled floor to what had caused the destruction.

Your eyes landed on an unfamiliar figure, their white overcoat swaying slightly in the wind as they regarded you. That platinum-blonde hair glinted in the morning light beneath the rim of his hat, and your eyes rested on those awfully familiar red cheek spots that stuck out from his pale face.

Your mouth dropped open, eyes widening, as the name of this strange man dawned on you. The image of the fallen angel, the most powerful man in the realm, stood before you.

Lucifer, the King of Hell, was leaning against the partially-destroyed railing. His arms crossed as he regarded your slightly battered form curiously.

“Did I miss anything?” The apple-cheeked man teased, sending you a charming grin. His demeanor was calm, and playful, despite the chaotic scene around him.

Would it be taken as disrespectful if you fainted right about now?

man i rlly dug myself into a hole with these titles huh x) i’ll think of something guys don’t worry. but can i just say how much i love throwing the reader into all this chaos, fun fun!

lmk what you think :)

taglist 🏷️

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @rayanicaraynbow @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @fairyv-ice @missam @beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @laundrybear @karolinda007-blog @nightreverie

(it only lets me mention 50 of you?! im so sorry to the rest of y’all 😭😭 i’ll reblog it with more tags sksksjjsjsj)

[cursingtoji]

11 and 21 with gojo please please PLEEK

One Bed + Hate Sex

⊱ ex!gojo x fem reader, smut, one face slap (on him), degradation but also praising ig?, possessive gojo, 2k words (this almost consumed me) ┊The Clichés ™

note: i got a litte crazy in the process of "why would i hate gojo" and ending up taking an extra prompt from the list for this so... ta dah ✨ ex boyfriend gojo enjoy

“It's been a while” Satoru greets.

One year it’s a long time, seeing him makes your stomach hurt but you realize you don’t carry as much resentment as you used to.

After your break you asked to be sent on missions far from tokyo, you knew eventually you would see Gojo Satoru again, and there he was, in casual clothes standing by the exit of the train station you agreed to meet at.

You felt him before you turned around the corner, and he felt you too. His six eyes could see the flames of your cursed energy increasing and decreasing as you tried to control your emotions. When you showed up he smiled, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses.

“Indeed.”

The director of Kyoto explained Gojo was meeting you there cause he got a lead on a special grade cursed object and you would be his companion on the search that would start tomorrow morning. That shouldn’t be hard, right? 

“How've you been?” he asks politely.

“We don’t need to do that” you reply quickly as both of you made your way to the cabs.

“Why? Am I supposed to not care for your well-being anymore?” his question would seem innocent to anyone, but you have trained ears for Gojo Satoru, and you can tell when he’s being patronizing.

“Yes, just like I don’t care about yours” you enter the cab and give the driver the name of your hotel, Gojo walks around the cab and sits beside you. The close proximity of him in this confined space already makes you uneasy.

“Don’t be like that, I know that’s not true” he puts his arm behind you, his cologne invading your senses and you consider rolling down the windows, but nostalgia stops you, “No matter what you say, i can still read you like a book” he whispers moving some strands of hair out of your shoulder.

Gojo knows you’re too well-mannered to do or say anything to him in this cab, you don’t wanna embarrass yourself in front of the driver even though he’s a stranger. Gojo always hated how much you cared about other people’s opinions — one of the things that you constantly fought about near the end of your relationship — yet he knew how to use that on his advantage.

The cab drops you off in front of your hotel and you leave Gojo to pay for it while making your way to the reception, giving your last name.

“I’m sorry, miss, I couldn’t find a reservation under your name” the girl at the reception says.

“Wha— didn’t you make a reservation?” you ask Gojo.

“I thought you were gonna make it” he shrugs and you have to restrain yourself from attacking him.

“Fine. Two rooms for tonight only” you turn to the receptionist again.

“Sorry ma’am, we’re all booked for tonight” she explains.

“Can you check again?” Gojo extends a membership card and she types something on her computer.

“Oh we have one master suit available for premium members” you roll your eyes.

“We'll take it” he says.

“Wait, just one?” you intervene.

“I'm afraid so, it’s the only room available for tonight.”

“So what’s gonna be, baby? Sleep with me or on the street?” he pushes his sunglasses down his nose bridge, wanting to see in detail your facial expressions as he teases.

“Don’t you dare call me that” you growl at him, “I shouldn’t have agreed to this mission” you mumble the last part looking around and considering your options.

“But it was not your decision to make, was it? You’re too much of a people pleaser to even question an order from those bags of bones you respect so much” he mocks bringing in a frequent fight topic.

“We'll have the room” you turn to the receptionist after realizing you didn’t have much to do anyways, right now you just look forward to locking yourself in the bathroom for at least one hour while you wash all the Gojo Satoru out of your system.

Gojo offered to carry your small one-night bag, but as expected you don’t let him take it, once you arrive at the room you can’t help but admiring how fancy it is. Just the kind of place Gojo used to get for the two of you.

“Good thing it’s a king size” you murmur looking at the huge bed, should be enough to sleep without touching him.

Gojo walks past you, pulling his sweatshirt over his head, the shirt underneath raising slightly but enough for you to take a peek at his back muscles and gulp.

“I'm going to shower” you announce, taking some clothes out of your bag and leaving your phone at the nightstand.

“Without me?” he blinks suggestively.

“Ugh” you slam the bathroom door in disgust.

Gojo laughs and lays at the bed getting comfortable, he reminisce the times when you were dating and he showed up at your hotel even if he was not part of your mission, he would get you a secret upgrade for a room with hot tub and sat there with you leaning on his chest while you talked about a future where you would be a teacher alongside him and not need to travel so much. Later he would assure the two of you would make it work through kisses and sweet whispers while fucking you slowly and passionately and take you out on a nice restaurant afterwards.

Gojo is pulled out of the memory lane by your phone’s message tone, he doesn't think twice before reaching to see what's your notification.

> did you arrive well? Xx

Suddenly he sees red. The contact name is unknown to him and he prides himself on knowing almost every sorcerer in Japan. So who the fuck is that?

Once the bathroom door opens, Gojo confronts you immediately.

“You moved on quite fast” you look up, noticing the phone in his hand and quickly trying to snatch it back before he disappears from the bed and reappears behind you.

“Don’t fucking test me, Satoru” you try again.

“Who’s he? Huh?”

“None of your business” you get closer and on your tiptoes to retrieve the phone, Satoru holds your wrist with more strength than necessary.

“Is he a curse-user? Kyoto faculty? Answer me” he pushes you until your back hits the wall, throwing your phone over his shoulder — not giving two shits if it breaks — and moves to be in between your legs, holding both your wrists above your head in one hand.

“None, get off of me”.

“Non— you’re dating a civilian?” he laughs, the psycho laughter gives you chills.

“You have no right to speculate about my own private life!” you tried to kick him, but he closed your legs between his own.

“That's why you broke up with me? To be with a boring fucking no-one?” that’s the angriest you ever seen Satoru, even when you fought he always kept his voice down, as if to tease you even more.

“I did break up and you didn’t even question it, did you? Didn’t even put up a fight!” you yell like you’ve been meaning for so long, after a big fight you yelled that you two should break up and his ‘yeah, maybe we should’ shocked you.

Satoru’s grip loses around your wrists, his big blue eyes look down at your anger filled ones seeing a hint of hurt in the features of the girl he fell madly in love with.

Fuck, he missed you so much.

You're panting at this point, both of you stay silent until your gaze falls to his lips, that's all the encouragement he needs to close the gap and kiss you, you gasp when the towel slides down to your feet, now physically and emotionally exposed to him. Gojo groans when he touches the bare skin of your waist and your arms fall on top of his shoulders. It’s incredible how quick you surrender to him, lips parting for him to taste his beloved one.

You can’t help the way your body reacts to him, not even when you attempt to rub yourself on his thigh and he stops you.

“‘S your boyfriend not taking care of you?” his tone drips mockery, a hand crawls up grabbing your breast harshly.

Before you can send him to hell his tongue is shoved back inside your mouth and you rub your thighs together already feeling yourself getting wetter.

“Fucking slut” he groans on your lips pinching your nipple and moving to cup your cunt, “Does he touch you like this? Like the whore you are? Or he treats you like a little delicate thing you pretend to be?”

Your palm acts fast to slap his cheek.

“Fuck” he moans, the burn on his face going stray to his dick as he ruts against your stomach.

Satoru slides the hand between your legs to spread your slick and press the heel of his palm on your clit, you whine, pressing your back against the wall.

“You’re not getting away from me, so don’t even try” your former boyfriend pushes his fingers without much resistance from your moist walls.

“T-Toru” you shut your eyes letting the nickname escape. This is all he dreamed of, having his name come out of your lips again, but he still couldn’t get over the fact you let someone else touch you, especially someone that did not understand you like he did. Someone that had no idea the type of job you had and how dangerous it was. Someone that would stand up during the mission assignments to volunteer for the most dangerous ones so you wouldn’t go.

“That’s right, baby, say my name” he curls his long fingers inside you, moving one arm out of his shoulder to guide your hand into his pants, where you quickly wrap around his length. You move his pants and underwear out of the way, the hot skin of his dick touches your stomach and you look down. And god, he has such a pretty cock it’s unfair.

“Wanna suck me, gorgeous?” he murmurs, watching the lust in your eyes, “Missed my cock in your mouth?” he hits the sweet spot inside you harder when you don't answer, “Say it” he grabs your jaw forcing you to stare at the dark ocean in his eyes.

“Y-Yes, I missed your cock” you confess, letting out all the times you pretended it was him pleasuring you instead of your fingers.

You squeeze his base when he fastens his fingers and your orgasm approaches, but it doesn't take long before he removes them and you whine.

“You’re all bark and no bite, all it takes is having your pussy played with and you get quiet” he bites your lobe, his harsh words make you wanna hide your face in embarrassment.

“Satoru, please” you beg and pull his pants all the way down trying to move to get on your knees.

“No, you’ll take what I give you” he grabs your arm and pushes you onto the bed, discarding his shirt before moving to position your knees on the mattress, “You’re lucky if I even let you cum tonight…” he strokes his cock with your remaining moisture on his hand before moving to bury himself in your walls, “... after everything you put me through” he confesses the last part in a hush.

“M-Me? Fuck you, Satoru” he fucks you roughly, not giving you time to argue back.

“Yeah, you” he punctuates with a particularly hard trust, “Can’t believe you were sleeping with someone all this time” his voice breaks but his pace doesn't.

You feel him in your cervix, but his tone pulls you out of your pleasure to explain yourself.

“I’m no— not” you whisper and he stops to lean over you.

“What was that?”

“I’m not… sleeping with him, he’s not— he’s no one” you confess slightly turning your head to look at him, his eyes squint as you feel his hot breathing against your neck and chest on your back.

“Good” he straightens up and pulls out. You turn around sitting on the bed and pulling him by the neck to kiss you again, Satoru complies, crawling with his lips attached to yours, until you're laying on the pillows wrapping your legs around his waist so he’s back inside you, “Missed this cunt so bad” he cups you again, feeling the way your lips stretch to his length while sucking on your nipples.

You arch your back “Hate you so… much— agh!”

“No you don’t, you never have” he bites your nipple and your nails sink on his back.

“This is pretty empty for an all booked hotel” you comment when you sit at the restaurant for breakfast the next morning while a cup filled to the brim with coffee, having slept only 4 hours since Satoru kept you up all night, denying your orgasm until you begged and apologized.

“Is it?” Gojo tilts his sunglasses looking around, finding only four other tables occupied while you stare at him suspiciously. He wonders how long it’ll take for you to find out that on the way there he booked every single room except one so you wouldn’t have a choice.

see also: Gojo + Fake Dating # Toji + Forbidden Love