#he never actually signed up to be apart of the hotel they just found him living under a loose floorboard in the stairs and felt bad for him

[ghosts-of-the-apocalypse]

Love the idea of Spamton running amuck in the Hazbin Hotel.

He'd fit in so well.

Alastor would find him entertaining and treat him like a little pet. He takes Spamton out on walks to cannibal town to go see Rosie who loves dressing him up in cute outfits.

Husk would be freaked the absolute fuck out by him.

Charlie would be off-putted at first but eventually learn to like the little guy. She tries to help him, but he's like that one stray cat that always shows up but never sticks around long enough to get a hold of so you just end up leaving food out and pspspsps-ing from a distance.

Angel would throw cheetos at him to see what would happen.

Lucifer would get pissed off at him because Spamton would set up a drop shipping account where he sells knock off versions of his rubber ducks. (Lucifer totally tried to take Spamton's "business advice" once and got scammed bad)

Vaggie would get an instant fight or flight response wherever he appeared in the room.

Nifty would probably vibe with him, they'd have roach tea parties together.

Fat Nuggets and Spamton would orchestrate a mafia gang together whilst managing a lucrative 2nd hand car dealership and in their free time play black-jack in the basement.

[rapunzelbro]

A Sacrifice For a Friend Angel Dust x Reader 2

This is super angst sorry not sorry part 3 will be up later in the week or two I decided to switch to story format

Masterlist Taglist

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“WHAT THE FUCK Y/N!” Angel Dust was late. By the time he got to where you were that sick fucks fog pulled you down to who the hell knows where and Angel’s chains appeared before they shattered “Goodbye Angel Cakes, seems like a bitch did actually love you after all..” Valentino just had a smirk, the contract signed with his name, Anthony, suddenly appearing, getting set ablaze as the ashes hit the ground “Enjoy freedom bitch” Valentino disappeared. Angel was just stuck in silence as the tears began to pool up is his eyes “No I no..” he struggled to get his words out, his breathing labored as he slowly begun backing away from the spot you were preciously, staring at the space like he could still see you “this wasn’t- this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen you’re so reckless damn it! You know that right? You just.. you..” his voice was mumbling as it turning into sobs “Why did you leave me Y/n?”

He drank a lot that night, he almost lost all his progress with quitting his drug addiction, he didn’t know what to do. The guilt just consumed him entirely that he just was left questioning why. His room was torn apart out of the frustration he was left in. The rest of the hotel found out about the news later on, they never saw any of the signs of Y/n changing and becoming distant. Part of Husk felt responsible that he didn’t force Y/n to stay at the hotel that night, he knew something was wrong, he knew what stupid shit you’d be willing to do for Angel Dust.

His stubbornness on not getting involved caused all this bullshit to follow through, he didn’t have the heart to tell Angel Dust or any of the hotel. Charlie was the first to go into your room after you were finally gone, the photos on your decorated door remain, ones with you and Angel Dust together, ones you took with the entire hotel. She decided for Angels sake it would be better if she took them down. Entering your room hit her like a rock. It was so empty, like someone was moving out or just moving in, It was nothing like how you had it before. The once pink and glamorous room that resembled a lot of Angels room, was bleak dull and boring. That alone broke Charlie’s heart to see the progress even if it was a little, go away. She remembers when you first arrived how you said you weren’t going to be here long so why the fuck should you decorate? You said you were going to jump here and there, but that’s before you met Angel Dust. You two spent the last two weeks decorating your room to perfection, you were always next to each other and there for each other, she remembers when you first made your decision to stay and try to be redeemed. She had such a proud smile and had a cake in celebration, that was captured in the photograph that once was on your door. But now you were just gone. She could only worry about Angel Dust and how she had to be strong for his sake.

Angel didn’t leave his room for days and that’s when Husk went to investigate, he wanted to give him time but if he didn’t come out soon he wasn’t sure what would happen. He didn’t knock, he just opened the door to see multiple bottles of liquor on the ground, he’d lie if he said he wasn’t relieved there wasn’t any drugs in that mix, he didn’t want to see him go that far down. Angel was just on his bed with Fat Nuggets cuddles up to him, as he just laid there silent. “Angel” Husk started before Angel visibly tensed up “The fuck do you want? Haven’t you heard of knocking” he didn’t bother to look at him, he didn’t want to look at anyone. “You’ve been up here for two days, what the fuck I want, is to make sure you’re okay” Husk replied annoyed crossing his arms looking at his silhouette. Angel didn’t respond to him for a while but Husk remained in place waiting for whenever he is ready “Why… why did Y/n do it Husk? Please tell me.. why would they do this..” Angel weakly said, trying to not break out sobbing again “Angel I wish I had the answer to that, but you knew how crazy Y/n could be, they said it once before at the bar, they would risk their life for those they loved. Y/n did just that..” Husk tried to explain before Angel jerked up glaring at the man “I never asked them to! Do you remember me ever fucking saying that shit!” He yelled, startling Fat Nuggets who jumped off the bed and retreated elsewhere “No but they knew you wanted out. Y/n was the one who took care of you and knew the most. Y/n’s room still has their stuff in it.. I didn’t know if you wanted in there but if you wanted to go through her remainings you can.. there’s food downstairs if you decide to head down there” Husk left after that and Angel just sat up wiping his tears standing up and going into the mirror. God he looked like shit, he would be caught dead if anyone saw him like this under his contract with Valentino, but now he doesn’t have to worry about it. He doesn’t have to worry about coming home bloody and bruised. It still didn’t make any sense to him why you did what you did. He left the room after trying to fix his appearance, he didn’t care as much right now as he went to your room. His heart ached more the closer he got to your room, he didn’t see the photos there anymore, the ones with the hotel all together and the ones with him and you. When he opened the door he instantly started sobbing when he saw your stuff in boxes and the once lively room looking absolutely lifeless. He tried to look through the boxes but it only caused him to break down more. He didn’t know if his heart would ever recover..

Angel Dust tag list: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @satansmanager @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness @fizziepopangel

[alien-slushie]

Hazbin Hotel/Angel Dust AU that I can't stop thinking about! This is not completely thought out, kinda just jumbled thought threads.

Warning: The usual stuff that's talked about/discussed/implied when it comes to Angel Dust's line of work

Takes place years before before Charlie Opens the hotel but the timeline isn't super important other than that.

Another extermination has come and gone and Angel Dust is expecting another grueling year trapped under Valintino's thumb, with a higher probability of it sucking even more since the sleez has solidified himself as an overlord. But then, he gets to the studio and Valintino is nowhere to be found. That's not nessicarrily an odd thing, the stronger Valintino got the less he showed up. But then the news spreads; Valintino got extermated.

Valintino is gone and dead, meaning Angel's contract is null and void. And Angel...Angel doesn't know what to do. He's worked for Valintino for so long, and sure he hated the dick but he never expected that he would actually be free. What did he do now? What could he do now?

He still needed a job, money, to take care of himslef so he wouldn't end up exterminated next year, so he stuck to stripping and porn(maybe a few singing gigs if he could get them), it's kinda all he knew in terms of making money, and no way in Hell(pun intended) was he going to crawl back to his father. Luckily he had Cherri to rely a bit on, so he wasn't completely alone in such a sudden change. He refused to sign another contract, but because he was still so well known the people he worked with were fine with that as long as they got a taste of the business Angel brought in.

Things changed when he saw a John getting handsy and aggressive with another demon, and stepped in. He didn't need to step in, but seeing the demon getting ab*sed and hurt like he used to snapped something in him. From then on, Whever he saw something like that happen, Angel would step in, even if he had to shoot up the f*ckers.

Before long he was known for more than just a Pornstar, he made a name for himself as the Pornstar who took care of others in the buisness, and soon demons were coming to him. They wanted his protection, even willing to sign a contract to him.

At first, Angel was vehemently against it. He didn't want to be like Val and dealing in sould never sounded all that interesting to him. But, eventually, after one too many demons came to him bruised up, and beaten, he agreed. His contracts were pretty simple, he got a percentage of their earnings, not a lot mind you, like 10-20%, and in exchange he'd beat the shit out of anyone that tried to hurt them. Biggest of all, they could pull out of the contract whenever they wanted, and If he hurt them, the contract would immediately be void.

When word got out that Angel was taking contracts, more and more s*x workers came in droves.

His own income, on top of what he got from the contracts, allowed Angel to buy an entire apartment building, which many of his contractors took up residence in. From rent and working hard Angel was able to buy Val's old studio, gut it, burn it down, and rebuild it from the brimstone up! He started making his own movies(P*rn and nonp*rn alike) in the studio and more people would come, wanting fame and fortune.

Slowly, Angel was started building his own territory, filling the power gap that Val left, except stronger since his employees actually liked him.

After years of hard work, and shooting *ssholes, Angel became an Overlord.

Basically:

-Angel Dust pulling himself up and protecting others in the industry from what he went through

-Slow Burn Angel unintentionally becoming an Overlord(Maybe making a pact with Cherri and them working together similarly to the Vees' situation?)

-Angel is a good boss and people love working with/for him

-Angel still works in porn and such, but hes calling the shots now, and even acts in nonporny stuff because he loves acting, singing, and dancing(love a Creative King)

-Eventually Charlie does seek Angel out to be her first patron to the Happy/Hazbin Hotel. Since he already has a reputation for protecting those under him, she thought he'd be the best option, and his position as a Overlord is also a big selling point.

-Angel also having a preexisting connection to Alastor and/or Husk sounds hilarious

[luaspersona]

All Night│knj (m)

pairing ↠ namjoon x reader (f. reader) genre ↠ college!au; brother’s best friend!au; strangers to lovers; smut; one-shot summary ↠ when your brother bails on you, you have to find another way to entertain yourself for the night and Kim Namjoon just so happens to be a great company. rating ↠ +18 warnings ↠ alcohol consumption; flirting; sexual tension; the reader and Namjoon are shameless; explicit smut: consent king!Namjoon, a bit of thigh riding, nipple play, fingering, oral (f. and brief m. receiving), spit kink, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, marking, light choking, begging, protected sex, multiple orgasms, cumshot, cum eating word count ↠ 12k (yeah, well. what can i say 💀) estimated reading time ↠ 30 minutes notes ↠ ok, so. i know i said i would upload this yesterday, but i got caught up with work and wasn't able to edit it one last time like i intended, and i hope it's ok that i'm dropping it now instead 🥺 note² ↠ also, this took so much longer than it should have, and it’s huge 😭 i’m so sorry y’all, but i swear it’s pure filth, the smut is just ridiculously long bc i don’t have any ounce of self control lmao 🫣 note³ ↠ ok, i'll let you get to it, now 🥰 crossposted ↠ read on ao3

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As the good sister you are, you hate Jimin most of the time.

The sparse moments in which you feel love for your brother are the only downside of going long enough without seeing him, because you start to forget why Jimin studying on the other side of the country is actually crucial for your relationship. Recently, for example, you've been missing him, and that's not something you can just let happen.

So, when your boss sent you to Seoul to attend a handful of meetings during the week, you took the opportunity to meet up with your brother for the first time since he got into college and make new oh-so-sweet memories with Jimin so you can go on with not missing him for another semester or so.

The club he chose is far from the hotel your company paid for, but it's been a minute since you last toured Seoul's alluring night, so you decide to walk. You spot the large mono. neon sign Jimin described around thirty minutes later, and you quickly step out of the chilly night into the club's cozy interior.

You fish for your phone inside your purse, messaging a simple im here to your brother before finding your way to the bar. You hop onto one of the empty stools, smoothing the fabric of your pants and adjusting your cute top that is slightly hiked up from your walking.

You order a beer to start the night, and with its bitterness coating your tongue, you turn around to take in the environment. You have to admit Jimin was right about this place. Although really crowded, it feels comfortable; the dim lightning casting a cozy veil over the bodies pressed together on the dance floor, the playlist good and loud enough to soothe any thoughts that might threaten a good night out.

[10:31] baby j 😗: on my way

Upon reading his response, you can't contain the large smile that betrays your anxiety. It finally hits you how long it has been since you last saw your brother. You don't even know what color his hair is now, how he's enjoying his first semester, if he found another apartment, if he got that job he told you about last month.

Aren't you supposed to know these things? God, you're a terrible older sister.

“Hey! What's up, noona?” A deep voice calls beside you, startling you a bit.

You turn, catching sight of a tall man greeting the bartender before he slides onto the stool next to yours.

After you take a quick look at him, you find yourself blinking back a couple times, simply unable to divert your attention: you've never seen such a fine man in your life.

As he leans over the counter, his broad torso is evident even through his shirt, large shoulders making him seem way too big for that stool. And his thighs?! Those thick — thick — thighs. You could die a happy woman between them, almost drooling when he spreads his legs to make himself comfortable.

“I'll just have the usual!” He orders, prompting a nod in response.

You know you're ogling, but fuck if this man isn't just perfect.

He pushes his hair back, long fingers tangling in his black locks in an failed attempt to clear the strands off his eyes, but in a successful endeavor to make you suck in a breath. Your attention falls to his lips — plump rosy lips that shine once he wets them with the tip of his tongue.

You tilt up, finding his dark almond-shaped eyes — piercing back directly at you.

You tense a little under his scrutiny, but you don't turn away, holding his gaze as you sip your beer.

“You know it's rude to stare, right?” He teases, making you smile immediately. 

Thing is: you are a Park, so flirting was like second nature to you. There's no scenario in which you dismiss this perfect lead he just gave you.

Besides, Jimin tends to be late, right? Yeah, he said he was on his way, sure, but who knows if he won't go to his place to freshen up before coming to meet you or something — what could be so bad about entertaining this beautiful man by your side?

“Oh, I'm sorry. You’re gorgeous, so it’s easy to get distracted.” He snickers, not expecting your response but definitely enjoying it. “But it's ok, I’ll let you stare back so we're even. Here, let me make it easier for you.”

You wiggle your body so you're facing him, closing your eyes playfully.

But he keeps his eyes locked in your face, as he's already regarded you before making his way to the bar. He noticed you when you approached the stool. He noticed the way your pants hug your legs just well enough for him to be able to delineate your figure. He noticed how really fucking cute your top is, loving how it bares the skin of your neck for him to picture how nice it would be to taint the soft flesh. 

You are hot, and Namjoon is a practical man, so he was already trying to read you, maybe wait a bit to see if you came with someone, if your body language was inviting or reclusive.

What eventually pushed him to come over was the way your face lit up when you smiled at your phone and he found himself grinning in response.

So now, even with your eyes shut, and your body closer for him to shamelessly gawk at, it's your smile that he's focused on.

“So?” You open your eyes again.

He cocks his head, regarding you.

“I like your earrings.” He taunts, and you scoff in feigned offense.

“That's your review?”

The bartender shows up again, placing a bottle of soju and a single glass in front of the man, who pours a dose for himself before drinking it.

He looks at you, all pretty and pouty, and grins before he's leaning in.

“I think I’d like to paint you, princess.” When did his voice become so husky? “Is that something you'd be interested in?”

This close, he catches the goosebumps that crawl up your arms, but your reply is unaffected.

“Well, how good of a painter are you, baby?” 

You can feel his hot breath fanning your jaw.

“I'd say I'm really good, but it really depends on you.”

“What about me.”

He shifts back to his prior position, a smirk on his face.

“If you behave.”

“And if I don't?” He drags his tongue over his lip.

“Then that’s even better.”

“Then I'm definitely interested, baby.”

He shoots you a shit-eating grin. God, are those fucking dimples?

“Well, what is your review?”

“Uhm, I like your lips. Almost want to know what they taste like.”

“Almost?”

“Of course! Need to know if you're a good boy first.” You say, matter-of-factly, tilting your head to finish your beer.

His eyes follow your body when you reach for another glass over the counter. “I also think a bottle of soju seems like a lot for one person.”

Damn, you are hot.

“Well, I'm a big guy.” He says, but pours it in your cup nonetheless.

“I can surely see that.” You huff, making him laugh.

“I'm Namjoon, by the way.”

You introduce yourself, taking the hand he extends to you.

The feeling of his large palm enveloping yours take your mind to other places. Places where that same hand is running up your legs, reaching for your zipper and slipping inside your—

“You're here alone?”

Before you can respond, your phone vibrates over at the counter, and you reach for it, checking a new message in your brother's chat.

“Gimme a sec.”

[10:47] baby j 😗: im rly rly sorry, sth came up, wont be able to make it tn

[10:47] you: You alright?

[10:48] baby j 😗: yeah

[10:48] you: Then why cant you come?

[10:49] baby j 😗: …

[10:49] baby j 😗: i met up w this really cute guy from my class and i wanna fuck him

[10:50] you: You bailing on me to fuck???

[10:51] baby j 😗: im so so sorry 🥺

[10:51] you: No you aint 😡

[10:52] baby j 😗: my bad lol

[10:53] baby j 😗: gtg tho, see u tmrw

“You ok?” Namjoon asks, as soon as you finish your glass of soju after sending Jimin a bunch of angry face emojis.

You realize you're frowning, and immediately ease the scowl on your face.

“Yeah. My brother just stood me up.”

“Shit. I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.”

Namjoon is quiet for a second.

“So you're leaving?”

You honestly thought Jimin would take longer to piss you off this time, but when you meet Namjoon's uncertain eyes, you can't really feel too bad about yourself right now. You smile mischievously. 

“Giving up already? Oh baby, I thought you could hold up.” You pout.

“I would never even think of leaving you unsatisfied.” The grin returns to his face, where it belongs. “Besides, who would I share my soju with?”

You pretend to search around the club.

“There are plenty of people here.”

“I'm sure of it, but there’s this beautiful girl who’s talking big to me and looks awfully uncomfortable in her clothes and I happen to be a very good boy who just wants to help her out of them.”

“Didn’t think of you as the romantic type.”

“What can I say, I’m as sweet as they come.”

“Then what do you say I help you finish this bottle before you give me a hand, sweet boy?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Just one thing, though.” He turns to you, attentive. “Sweet isn’t really my thing. I like it rough.” You wink.

“Damn, princess.” He chuckles. “I like you.”

Namjoon prided himself on being a good flirt. He liked to take his sweet time with his partners, teasing and instigating in such a way that any fleeting touch would ignite the skin.

But you? You were humbling him.

Barely two cups into the bottle, he decided to take you to dance. He assumed that having his hands on your thighs, gripping your hips, and his lips brushing gently over your neck would help to shut that witty mouth of yours, but as you keep grinding your ass on his cock he finds himself guiding you closer, spellbound by the way your body frames his.

Namjoon's thoughts are clouded by your hips, the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips turning him the fuck on, making him feel like a horny teenager.

A thin layer of sweat covers your bodies, the loud music a mere excuse for you two to keep pressing into each other.

Namjoon can hear your shaky breaths as you turn a bit on his hold, lips nearing his ear as you nib lightly at the flesh — which, paired with the way your fingers grab his hair, is enough to prompt a quiet moan out of his plumpy lips, one that you wouldn’t have listen weren’t you so close to him.

He should be ashamed of how fast he’s giving in, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck. He just wants more. So he lets you do as you please — even if just for now.

Namjoon leisurely rolls his pelvis on your ass, large palms coming up to circle your waist and it’s his turn to listen to the pretty whine you give him. Namjoon closes his eyes, trying to focus.

“Wanna kiss you so bad, babe. Can I kiss you?”

You nod immediately and Namjoon wastes no time in grabbing your hand in his and quickly guiding you out of the dance floor, cutting through the sea of bodies with clear purpose.

You two make your way to a hall near what you assume is the backdoor of the club, poorly illuminated but also a bit more quiet.

Namjoon gently pushes you towards the wall, your back meeting its cold surface. The way he stares at you resembles nothing the sweet eyes you met at the bar — now dark with lust, nothing short of intimidating.

And you would be lying if you said that didn’t spur a heat below your belly.

“Are we allowed to be back here?” A coy smile crosses Namjoon’s face.

“That’s what you're thinking right now?”

“What should I be thinking, sweet boy?”

A huffed laugh passes his lips, and Namjoon steps closer. One of his arms comes to rest near your face.

“In a good ass excuse for the show you pulled back there.” His low register sends a shiver down your spine.

On second thought? Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him that much, but— ah, who are you kidding?

“Thing is, babe, I’m not sorry.”

Namjoon shakes his head, taking a step closer.

With his body so near, you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything. You close your eyes when his breathing ghosts over your skin, feeling goosebumps trail over your arms.

You wait for his next action. You wait for a touch or a reprimand, but it never comes.

Wait.

He didn’t… leave you, did he?

You’re mortified for a second, but as if sensing your distress Namjoon brings his fingertips to graze over your sides. The sudden touch startles you a bit.

When his hands reach your upper arm, you hear him let out a sharp, frustrated breath, prompting you to open your eyes.

“You are fucking beautiful.”

You want to reciprocate his praise, but the words seem lost in your throat. This close you feel drunk on his beauty, dazed by his full, sinful lips and intoxicated by his heat as your bodies orbit each other.

Are you imagining him?

Namjoon’s hand continues to travel up your body, stopping at your jaw.

The pad of his thumb traces your chin, reaching your bottom lip and slowly pulling it off of your anxious bite, soothing the flesh in a tender movement.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks again, tone serious.

You smile.

“At this point, you better.”

And so he does, plumpy lips touching yours with surprising tenderness while his hands rest on your neck. You are taken aback by his softness, not reacting for a second before pulling him closer to bathe in his warmth.

The kiss unwinds all the tension off of you, replacing it with lust. The docility of his actions makes them hypnotic, your mind disoriented with his skin grazing yours — but you’ve never been a patient woman.

You slide your hands through his chest, trailing his defined torso before grabbing his shirt in your fists. You break the kiss and he lifts an eyebrow in question.

“Thought I told you sweet isn’t really my thing, big boy.”

Namjoon chuckles. “So impatient.”

This time Namjoon smashes your lips together, kissing you with hunger.

He presses you further against the wall and you stumble with his eagerness, a satisfied hum leaving your throat.

His hands explore your body, going through your neck, your shoulders, your hips and then your ass, grabbing a handful and giving it a hard squeeze.

He opens your mouth with his, and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. His breath is ragged when he slips his tongue inside, and you two take barely a second to match each other's rhythm.

You suck the soju's sweetness off his tongue, and he drinks the bitter memory of your beer. Forget the alcohol — he's the one inebriating your thoughts.

You feel every inch of his body, pressed flush against his broad torso as his waist smoothly drags over yours, making it almost impossible for you to keep your whiny sounds down your throat.

You make no effort, on the other hand, to resist the urge to bite his pillowy flesh, nibbing with maybe more force than you should, but grinning in satisfaction when you earn a sweet groan in response.

You entangle your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer in a desperate attempt to get more of him, and he seems just as insatiable, slithering his arms behind your back to press your fronts.

Namjoon breaks the kiss, but he gives you no time to complain before you feel his mouth on your neck, sucking and biting between licks over the sweaty skin.

Your hands find purchase on his hair, grabbing his locks with force as arousal gushes out of you.

Namjoon's determined to mark all over your neck. After he sucks a hickey on the spot between your ear and your jaw, you just fucking know he's sporting the smuggest smile at the way his actions shove the prettiest of yelps out of you.

He levels his face with yours, but avoids your lips when you try to resume the kiss. 

“You’re awfully quiet, baby girl” he points out when you frown “have nothing smart to say?”

“How about fuck you?”

“I plan on it, don’t worry.” A cocky grin takes his lips. “And although you look gorgeous trying to be in control, I wanna hear you. I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel, baby.”

He doesn’t really give you an option when he slots his leg between yours, large thigh pressing up your core and pushing an audible whimper out of you. The sound makes Namjoon grab a handful of your ass and use it to grind you along his thigh — his fucking thigh.

You grab the back of his head, pulling him to you as you smother his lips with yours, but this time Namjoon eats all your moans, feasting on the sounds you so obediently grant him.

You’re bathing in each other’s heat and with a particularly delicious roll of your hips, your core brushes on his growing bulge. You suck in a breath, parting with the kiss to learn how to breathe again.

“Look at you” his tone is laced with lust “riding my thigh like a good girl.”

Fuck, you're so damn horny, and you've barely done anything. The fuck is up with you? It scares you how you know you'd promptly fold if Namjoon asked you too, just to have that cock drilling inside you.

So you just hum weakly, apparently forgetting how to fucking speak.

“What was it again? That you called me before?” he asks, returning to slide your clothed core over his strong legs again, loving the way you look getting off on his thigh “Oh, right. What happened with all the filth you were saying before, sweet girl?”

You swallow. This man is fucking challenging you. You have to get your shit together.

“Namjoon—” you moan his name out “I’m… I’m so fucking wet right now.”

“Yeah?” His Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

“Yeah, Namjoon, my panties are fucking soaked.”

“Shit. That’s it, wanna hear you losing it.”

Namjoon wants you so bad. He can feel the warmth of your core rubbing against him, and he can only imagine the growing stain in your panties, the desire of licking you clean the only thing in his mind. He wants to know how you look when you cum, and he just knows it'll be the prettiest fucking thing.

“I can feel how hard you are for me.” Your shaky voice makes him growl.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” That’s his new favorite pet name, the only thing he wants leaving his mouth.

You close your lips on his neck, moaning against his skin when you lick up his throat, a salty taste coating your tongue.

“I haven’t even—” you falter, intensifying your movements to touch his covered cock with each raise of your hips “I haven't even touched you yet, big boy. If I lose control, you sure you can keep it?”

You suck a purple stain on his pulse point, nibbing at it softly and rolling your eyes back over the grunts he pours on your ears.

Your hand slides between your bodies, fingers ghosting over his cock. Namjoon chuckles darkly.

“You're such a tease.”

“And what you gonna do about it, big boy?” You murmur on his skin.

Before Namjoon can answer, though, a high giggle echoes through the corridor.

You both turn, startled by the sound.

A couple stumble its way into the corner, in a messy make out session that delays their realization that they aren't alone. 

“Do you live close?” You ask Namjoon, breathe steadying when the two of you understand the couple doesn’t really mind the audience.

“Yeah.” He says, non-committal.

“Can we maybe go to your place?” You suggest, unsure if he's comfortable with it.

Namjoon turns his attention back to you, and his lips curve up into the most gentle smile you've ever seen.

“If you want to.”

You nod, mirroring his smile.

Namjoon adjusts himself in his pants, trying to be as comfortable as one can be with a painfully hard cock in tight fitting slacks.

You take the cue to soothe your own clothing and Namjoon can't help when his cute smile turns into a full on smirk upon seeing the evidence of his hands on your crumpled outfit.

He takes your hand in his when you both are relatively presentable, and once again leads you through the club, this time aiming for the exit.

Turns out, Namjoon isn't a good boy at all.

The whole ride to his apartment his hand was planted on your thigh, caressing softly without ever breaching your inner thigh or skirting higher — it was as innocent as it possibly could be.

Yet you were squirming and fidgeting the whole trip as his voice, enveloped in the most vulgar desire, whispered the most filthy promises on your ear, shooting arousal all the way down to your now sticking panties.

Promises of making you cum on his tongue, of fucking you senseless with your face on his mattress — of painting you with his cum tonight.

By the time the car finally stopped at his place, you felt your knuckles sore from clutching the fabric of your pants.

Not that he was unaffected. Namjoon could dirty talk you all he wanted, it didn't change the fact that you saw the way his cock twitched and how he was restlessly shifting in his seat whenever you played into his little scenarios.

Although, in hindsight, saying you wanted to be stuffed full of him wasn't the best idea, because the quiet groan he spilled in your ear did nothing to placate your own aching pussy.

The warmth of his palm is familiar at this point as he takes your hand to climb the flights of stairs to his place. Namjoon quietly fishes for his keys and, before opening the door, he looks at you, smiling softly and making you smile too.

When you both are inside his apartment, you wet your lips, anticipating his kiss. But Namjoon misses the action, too preoccupied with taking off his shoes and jacket and politely asking for you to do the same at the entrance.

His long legs stride towards the kitchen, and you almost assume he’s nervous when he fumbles with his cabinets, picking up two glasses.

You frown and, slowly following after him, you hop up on the stool by the counter, across from him. 

“Namjoon.”

“Yeah.” He fills the cups with water, placing them between you two and finally returning your gaze.

“Do you still wanna fuck?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “Yes. I definitely still wanna fuck you.” His eyebrows knit together. “Why? Don’t you?”

“I do. But I kinda expected you to have, you know, thrown me against the wall or something by now.”

“I might still do that. Just wanna talk for a bit, make sure you’re sober and all.” He explains, reaching for his cup, and you mimic his motion, soothing the dryness of your throat. 

“Well” you ponder “I honestly feel a bit tipsy, but I’m conscious.”

“Do you want some time to be sure?”

“Nah, I’m sure.” He nods. “Are you drunk?”

“Not really.” Namjoon presses his lips into a tight line, before saying: “I also wanna know your limits.”

“My limits?”

“Yeah, I wanna know what you don’t like.”

“Oh” you huff out a laugh, dumbfounded “that’s nice. You seriously ask that to everyone you hook up with?”

“I like to.”

“Okay, uhm…” you sip your water. “I’m not really into degradation and, although I said I like it rough, I would appreciate it if you didn’t hit me or anything.” He nods, waiting for you to continue. “I also don’t feel comfortable with ass stuff. Oh, and do you have condoms?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think that’s it. Maybe just don’t try anything freaky before telling me?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“What about you?” He cocks his head to the side, considering you for a second.

“There isn't much I'm not willing to do, honestly, so really? Just don’t want you to lie or fake stuff. I want you to tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“I can do that.”

Namjoon rounds the counter, stopping in front of you before helping you stand.

“Up.” He commands, head tilting in the direction of the counter, and you jump to sit on it.

“There’s only one problem.” You say, guiding him between your legs.

“What?”

“I’m soaking wet right now.”

“That can’t be comfortable.” He traces soft circles on your thighs.

“It isn’t. And it’s your fault, big boy.” You pout.

Namjoon sucks his lower lip between his teeth, dark lust cloaking his eyes.

He gets closer, hands coming to your ass and squeezing it.

“But I’ve barely done anything.”

“I’m painfully aware of that.” You whine, seeking more contact.

“Are you normally that impatient, baby?”

“Do you normally take this damn long to fuck someone?”

He chuckles.

“You sure you can take it if I’m rough with you, princess?”

“You sure you can be rough with me, sweet boy? Cause you’ve been all talk and no—”

He smashes his mouth against yours before you could finish.

Namjoon’s lips seem like velvet on yours — despite the pressure, despite the thirst with which he drinks you up. He moves his lips in a way that almost feels like too much, like you won’t be able to take it, but the taste of lust coats your mouth so deeply that you’re intoxicated.

His hands memorize your body, grabbing your neck to tilt your head to the side before you open your mouth to meet his hot tongue, flicking it with yours.

You explore his mouth, happy to swallow all of his breathy groans as Namjoon tightens his grip on your ass, pulling you to drag on his bulge and grunting at the feeling, your body gasoline to his fire.

He can barely concentrate on the kiss, and you’re not much better, the initial eagerness developing into a sloppy make out session — fuck technic, how can one focus when Namjoon’s cock is so deliciously rubbing against you?

He starts to kiss down your jaw, wet lips tracing your sensitive flesh, taking your neck as his canvas.

You couldn't be more thankful for not having any more meetings to attend until being back to Busan, because you definitely don't own enough makeup to hide the purple marks he leaves behind. 

He cups your boob, squeezing it in a way that has you parting your lips in a whimper.

“Fuck princess, you’re so responsive.”

His palm slithers beneath your shirt, caressing the soft flesh of your stomach before he tugs your top off.

“Take this off for me, baby.” He commands, voice low in your ear as he brushes the thin lace of your bra.

And you obey, unclasping it and letting it fall somewhere near your top.

You're not ashamed or timid in the slightest when you lean back on the counter to let him take in as much as he wants from you, a tiny smirk crossing your lips. Your confidence makes Namjoon crazy, but you can't help it. You feel so hot under his gaze, you could let this man do anything to you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. Like, honestly, what the fuck.” You giggle.

“Come back here then, sweet boy.”

He kisses down your body, from your neck to your collarbone before he finally reaches your tits.

He closes his mouth around you, swirling his tongue around your nipple as his thumb finds your other breast, flicking over your hard nub and eliciting a loud cry out of your pretty lips. Namjoon seriously feels like he could drown in your sweet sounds.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging a handful and making him groan, vibration reverberating all through your chest.

A string of saliva attaches his lips to your tits as he peppers down kisses between the valley of your chest to regard your other boob, latching onto your nipple and taking his hand to smear the wetness he left behind.

The tip of his tongue licks your nipple, and you buck into his hips.

“Fuck, Namjoon, I… I love your mouth.” You pant.

“Love your tits.”

And he certainly makes you feel so.

Your head falls back when his hand cups your pussy over your pants. The elongated moan you grace him with makes him pull your waistband, quickly undoing your buttons.

You suck in a breath when his hand slips inside your panties, and the groan that leaves his throat is borderline painful as he finally feels you — his fingertips slightly spreading your folds as your slick coats him. 

“Damn, baby, you’re dripping.” He says, breaking the pattern of kisses on your tits to look at your face.

“I fucking told you.”

“Is all this for me?”

“Yeah, ba—” your words turn into a whine when his middle finger presses down your clit.

He chuckles, and you clench around nothing.

Namjoon feels like he's dreaming, seeing your head tilted back, your eyes closed shut as you squirm on his finger.

He pushes one digit inside your aching pussy, and you sob. Your wetness paired with the warmth of your walls pushes a moan out of his mouth, electricity going straight to his dick and coaxing him to push another finger inside — his mind spiraling as he imagines how your pussy will feel like around his cock.

“Good girl, soaking my fingers.”

Namjoon’s attention is locked on your face, gauging your reactions carefully.

“Shit, baby, that's it” you shudder when his fingertips find your g-spot, and he starts to hit it restlessly, your walls sucking him in.

You feel your breath scaping your lungs. Although Namjoon’s hand is somewhat restrained by your pants — which he didn’t mind taking off — the stretch of his fingers inside of you is maddening.

He's slowly working you up, heat coursing through your body and all the way to your scalp, the obscene sounds dripping from you only spurring you on.

You start to struggle to support yourself, feeling weaker by the minute, so you grab his upper arms, in an attempt to steady yourself. When you open your eyes, you’re met with deep, dark lust.

“I want to eat you out.” He says, and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Fucking god.”

“Would you like that, baby?”

“Yes, baby, fuck” you moan.

“Tell me you want it.”

Can't he tell by the way your chest is rising and falling at an almost concerning speed?

“I wanna feel that pretty mouth of yours in my pussy, Namjoon.”

He groans before his hand leaves your cunt and helps you down the counter.

You two stumble your way to his bedroom. Namjoon's arms hug you tightly against him as your hands pull his hair in a messy kiss, the only concern in your minds is to remain linked.

Namjoon tosses you carelessly over his mattress, drawing a gasp out of you.

The sight of you on his sheets, bare chest glistening with his saliva, pants poorly undone and shifting as you try to relive the emptiness he left behind makes Namjoon grope himself through his clothes, swallowing strained grunts.

You smirk at his distress, bringing your hands to your boobs and pushing them together to shove that grunt out of his throat. 

“You look so pretty like this, spread out for me.”

“I bet you’ll find me prettier with your cock inside of me.”

“You keep saying these things…” he closes his eyes, sighing heavily at the image you cast in his head. “I think I need to teach you some manners, dirty girl.”

“I’m counting you’ll at least try.” You smirk and Namjoon chuckles.

In a smooth motion, he takes his shirt off, exposing his broad, sculpted chest. Smug takes his face at the way you shamelessly gawk at him, and he kneels at the floor, hands harshly yanking you to the edge of the bed by your pants, before he finally slides them down your legs.

Namjoon straight out moans when he notices the large pool of arousal staining your panties.

“Damn, baby” his voice is barely audible and you squirm, shutting your legs to try and provide some friction. “You want to be fucked this bad?” His hands come up your thighs to part them, gaze transfixed in your core, layered by the thinnest lace of underwear.

“I want to be fucked this bad by— by you, shit.” You stutter as Namjoon lips meet your legs, biting and licking the soft flesh.

He trails kisses along your thighs, closing the distance to your cunt, but instead of touching you where you need him to, his lips simply hover over you. You let out a low curse when he continues his path to your other thigh, licking and sucking roughly.

“Namjoon, please.”

“Please what, princess? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you.”

“I want your lips.“

“They’re right here.”

“I just told you.” You whine.

“Fucking tell me again if you really want it.”

“Please, eat me out, baby.” Your voice is pathetically high, but you couldn't care less.

“Since you asked so nicely” the look of his dimples between your thighs is the most beautiful obscene thing you've ever been graced with.

Namjoon shoves your panties to the side, and the way he curses your name out has you forgetting how to breathe.

“The prettiest fucking pussy, so fucking wet for me” he groans “I bet I could slip right in.” And you’re sure he’s right, feeling your lust dripping down your ass.

Namjoon seems to like the way you squirm under him, because instead of fulfilling his promises, he blows a cold puff of air over your folds and the way you shudder has his dick twitching. 

“Namjoon, for fuck’s sake.” He chuckles. “I'll fight you, I swear to god.”

He brings his finger to glide up your entrance, effectively shutting you up.

Namjoon teases you, pulling your folds apart before spreading your slick around them, leaving you all nice and sloppy for him. His eyes flick up to the way your chest rises and falls above him, then his gaze returns to your drenched cunt.

How are you supposed to survive the night if he keeps looking at you like that? Like you are sin incorporated? 

He finally brings his face to you, licking a long stripe along your pussy and collecting all your juices on his way up to your clit, where he swirls his tongue before sucking, hard.

You can’t help the loud cry that exits your throat, nor how it elongates when Namjoon hums in pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good.”

One of your hands flies to his hair, twisting and pulling carelessly, while the other gathers his sheets in your fists.

You jolt your hips up to meet his face as he continues to lap at your cunt and when he drags the tip of his hot tongue to part your folds and pushes it inside your walls, Namjoon has to pin you down to prevent you from lifting off the bed.

“So fucking good, baby” you moan, fumbling with his hair.

“Yeah?” His deep voice against your heat makes your head fall back.

Namjoon feel his control dissolving pretty fucking fast as he takes in all that you can give him, arousal gushing out of you for him to feast.

His tongue explores your cunt and he softly takes your clit in between his teeth. You feel a sharp pressure growing in your stomach and you grind on his face seeking more of it.

“Shit! Do that again, please” you yelp, and he promptly nibbles down at your clit.

Namjoon starts to focus on your now swollen nub, while he slides his hand down, and before you can process his intentions, you feel the delicious push of two of his fingers inside of your cunt.

The sound you let out has Namjoon’s mind blanking. You arch your back, squeezing your eyes shut as goosebumps crawl up your arms.

Namjoon lifts your legs to rest them on his shoulders, allowing himself to go deeper into you and he speeds up his movements, his fingers scissoring you open for him. Namjoon eats you up like his life depends on it, sucking the soul out of your body.

Sinful squelching and slurping noises fill his room, and he wants those sounds imprinted to his brain, your pussy loudly dripping for him.

In a sudden movement, he curves his fingers, hitting your sweet spot. Your breath tries to keep up with your racing heart while the knot in your belly threatens to snap.

You let go of his sheets, hand coming up your chest, cupping your boob just slightly before pinching your hard nipples, the sensitivity making you squirm, Namjoon's groan between your legs just spurring you on, the sight of you unraveling above him the most erotic thing he's ever seen — and to know he's the one making you shiver like that makes his cock painfully hard.

You rest your hand beside your head, trying to steady yourself somehow and failing miserably.

Your mind is empty, his tongue washing away any lingering thoughts or worries you’ve ever had, as if you know nothing but the feeling of his lips wrapping around your folds and the maddening drag of his fingers inside of you. 

When your legs start to shake and your walls clench around his digits, Namjoon slightly parts his lips from you, but without pausing his fingers — if anything, he starts to pump them faster.

"You gonna cum?"

You nod.

Your lower lip will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

"Words, baby girl."

"Yes! Yes, I’m close" you cry.

"Look at me." He demands, and you do as he says.

You support yourself on your elbows, meeting his firm gaze on you.

The sight of Namjoon between your thighs, chin glistening as your arousal drips from his mouth, and the fact that he still hasn’t stopped fingering you, make your whole body quiver, your stomach contracting hard, and you have to gather all your self control to not cum just from his looks.

Fuck, you wish you could take a picture.

"Want you to look at me when you come." You clench around his fingers. "Can you do that for me, princess?"

"Yeah" you are like… twenty percent sure you can.

Namjoon grins to himself in triumph. You’re already already this fucked out and he’s barely begun with you.

His mouth returns to your core. Honestly? Namjoon's knees are surely bruised from the hard floor, scraping whenever he moves further against you. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as his tongue worships you in earnest, your name falling from his lips like prayer while his fingers stretch you so fucking good, pushing you to the edge of your orgasm.

"Jesus, Namjoon, that’s it" you feel silly, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Cum for me baby. Cum on my face." He commands, register so low you barely hear him.

The feral look he directs you alongside his words make your orgasm hit you in a strong wave, your body lifting from the mattress and shaking vigorously. Namjoon’s hand spreads over your stomach to try and pin you down as he keeps his tongue lapping at you, drinking up all your essence and helping you ride out your high.

He groans at the way your browns shoot up your forehead, mouth silently parting as your head falls back.

You’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum.

You push his head away from you when your legs start to tremble from oversensitivity, searching for air.

Namjoon puts your panties back in place, the soaked clothing sticking to your eaten out pussy and making him hum, satisfied.

"That’s it, baby, you did so well for me."

"Fuck" you whisper, running your fingers through your hair. The shockwaves of your orgasm are still making you shiver when you pant, "what the fuck was that?"

Namjoon chuckles, slowly lifting himself from his bruised knees.

His stare on you falters when he darts his tongue out to collect your cum from around his mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

He climbs up the bed, careful not to crush you as he brings his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and he swallows the quiet whine you make before pulling away.

Namjoon takes his wet fingers and wraps around his mouth, sucking his fingers clean with his eyes closed.

When he looks at you again, something unreadable crosses his gaze before he gulps. "Can I spit in your mouth, pretty girl?"

Your reaction betrays your answer, thighs immediately pressing together as a new wave of arousal shoots through you at his request.

But Namjoon still waits until you say: "Fuck yeah, you can."

His smile is ridiculously innocent for the matter at hand.

"Then open up for me, princess."

And you do, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as he grabs your jaw, hovering above you.

You close your eyes as a small globe of spit hits your tongue, and you swallow proudly, a content hum ripping from your throat. 

"Good girl, shit, that’s so hot."

He leans in to resume the kiss, making himself more comfortable between your legs. His clothed cock drags against your inner thigh.

Why is he still wearing pants?

"Namjoon" you call, between kisses.

"Uhm."

You take your hands to his torso, tracing freely and loving the way his skin shivers under your fingertips. From his broad shoulders to his firm abdomen, you explore his golden, sweaty skin above you, until you slide one of your hands down. Your palm touches his member, stroking it just slightly as you bathe in the broken moan he graces you with.

"Let me suck you off." You offer, feeling how hard — and thick, mind you — he is under your hand.

"Can you handle more?" His tone is teasing, but his look is genuine. 

You’re silent for a moment. What does he mean by that? Would he just… stop if you said no?

God, why is that so hot?

"Yeah, sweet boy. Wanna take care of you too."

The problem is that there’s no way Namjoon’s gonna last if you suck him off. He can barely control himself now, after tasting you and drawing all those sweet sounds out of you. His dick is already twitching under your half assed strokes, the slight discomfort from his pre cum staining his clothes a clear sign he needs to be inside you. He wants to make you cum again, but around his cock this time.

So he chuckles.

"Can you take it if I fuck you now?" You bite your lip, nodding. "Yeah? Tell me you want my cock, baby girl."

"I want you cock, Joonie." You spill, lips nearing his ear. "I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow."

Maybe not your brightest idea, but at this point you don't give a shit. Namjoon is the only thought on your mind and if you came that hard just from his fingers, you can’t wait to see what his dick will feel like.

"Fuck, I love your filthy mouth." He groans. "Sure you don’t need some time?"

"Nah… maybe leave the riding for later, though?" A coy smile crosses your face.

"Sure" he smiles back.

Namjoon kneels back on the bed, wincing a bit when his sore knee touches the crumpled sheets. Ignoring it, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket, taking a foil packet out of it.

He stands up, tossing the wallet aside before reaching for his belt.

"Let me" you ask, lifting yourself and sitting on your heels.

You take your hands to his thigh, caressing it before going to his belt, which you undo, eyes not daring to look away from his.

You bite your lip when your hands open his zipper, and you reach around him to grasp his pants, pulling them down slowly as he looks at you with nothing but lust, eyes tilting down to your bare chest.

"You honestly have the most amazing thighs."

He frowns in amusement. "Thanks?"

Usually you’re a big fan of reciprocity, and you might have considered taking your sweet fucking time with him, just like he did with you, if Namjoon hadn’t just give you one of the best orgasms of your life and if you didn’t feel arousal pooling again on your already soaked panties. So, instead, you just pull down his pants along with his briefs, his cock springing free.

Namjoon hisses at the feeling of the fabric dragging against his shaft, and you have to suck in a breath when you look at his thick member. It must be painful how hard he is at this point, dick angry and throbbing.

"Big boy indeed." You blurt out, making Namjoon laugh as he kicks his pants down his legs.

"Losing your confidence, princess?" Honestly? Namjoon has no business having such a pretty cock and being this hot. You feel like he should be illegal.

You curl your palm around his dick and give it a tentative pump. A long moan falls from his lips from finally receiving some attention.

"Namjoon?"

"Yeah."

"Can I at least taste you?" Are you fucking pleading?

He gulps.

"Please?" You pout.

He bites his lip — how could he ever say no to you looking up at him like that, the cutest pout on your lips, while you beg him to let you give him head? He'd give you anything.

"Shit, yes, you can."

You smile.

That's it. Namjoon's sure he's imagining you. Is he dreaming?

You inch closer, giving his tip an experimental lick and tasting his salty pre cum, riveting at the sweet sounds he lays out for you.

You spit on his shaft before you lick your way down him, smearing your spit all over his length, before giving his crown a light suck, prompting Namjoon to buck his hips into your mouth, and you welcome him.

You moan, feeling his weight on your tongue. He twitches between your lips when you hollow your cheeks.

You start to take him further, his tip grazing the back of your mouth while you pump what you can’t fit inside.

"Fuck, princess, you look so pretty sucking my cock." He groans, head tilting back for a second and squeezing his eyes shut.

When you start to bob your head faster, though, Namjoon gathers all his self control and pushes you away, and you release him with a small pop.

You pout, and his jaw tenses "why would you stop me then?"

"I wanna fuck you." He pumps his dick a few times, hand slipping easier with your saliva now coating him. "All I’ve been thinking about."

Namjoon rips the foil packet open with his teeth, securing the condom around himself.

You make a move to lay back on his mattress, but Namjoon shakes his head.

"Nah, baby, that’s not how I want you."

He slithers his arm around your torso, harshly turning you over. He yanks you by your waist, pulling your ass up to him. His hand runs down your spine, pressing your face on his sheets.

Namjoon positions himself behind you. His palm comes up to caress your ass before giving it a hard squeeze.

Namjoon parts your cheeks, and he brings his fingers to your folds, spreading them apart to stare at your pussy. He grunts upon noticing your cunt is already a mess for him again even if he’s just licked you clean.

"You got wet again from sucking my dick, princess?"

"You felt so good in my mouth."

Your words fuel him, and Namjoon doesn’t think twice before he inches closer and licks your folds, the tip of his tongue collecting your licking lust as he hums in pleasure.

"Sweetest fucking pussy" your eyes roll back.

Namjoon pulls away to admire the view. There are you, all pliant, waiting for his next action with your face pressed down his bed, your ass on display, pussy dripping in anticipation.

He never felt this fucking hard.

"God, you’re gorgeous. So beautiful for me like this."

He grips his cock, aligning himself with your entrance, but instead of just sinking it inside you, Namjoon drags his crown up and down your folds like he has all the fucking time in the world. Your spit mixing with your gushing arousal.

You groan — you wanna fight him.

"Namjoon" his name drips like sin from your lips.

"Uhm." He hums, distracted.

"Just fuck me already."

He smirks. 

"Now that’s no way of asking something, is it?" You groan. "Don't you wanna be a good girl for me?"

"Baby, please, can you fuck me? My pussy is so fucking wet right now." You whine, wiggling your ass, creating some, but not nearly enough, friction. "Please..."

Namjoon fucking loves your dirty mouth. "Good girl."

He slowly presses himself between your folds, shoving a loud moan from your throat.

You shudder from the intrusion, his tip deliciously splitting you up as it slides in your cunt.

"Shit, baby, you’re way too tight." He grunts. "Relax for me, princess."

Namjoon leans over you, his torso framing your back. He lays sweet kisses on your shoulders, and his hand on your hips starts to softly trace your skin, raising until he’s grabbing one of your boobs. He squeezes it, pitching your hard nipples.

His gentle touches make you melt, allowing for Namjoon to drag his cock further inside of you, finding little resistance as his thick cock stretches you up.

Your cunt engulf him so tightly that Namjoon feels his mind spiraling, and when his hips meet your ass, you both let out a shaky breath.

"Shit, I feel so fucking full."

He chuckles.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Yeah, fuck. Gimme a sec."

You roll your hips slightly to try and get used to his size, but he’s filling you up so good that the tiniest of movements makes his shaft drag against your walls, a quiet yelp falling from your lips.

"Ok." You gulp. "You can move."

Namjoon licks his lips and smirks, hands tightening on your hips.

"Hold tight, baby."

He slowly pushes himself out of you, but doesn’t give you time to feel empty as he immediately comes slamming back inside. You gasp, body jerking forward.

Your pussy welcomes him with each thrust, swallowing him with the most wet sounds you’ve ever heard, and you start to push your ass back to try and take him further between your tight walls.

His cock moves in a merciless pace, and you feel like you forgot how to breathe.

How the fuck does he know how to move his hips like that?

You’re exhilarated, mouth open but not a single sound coming out. Overwhelmed by his soft moans above you, by the way he stuffs your pussy full of him, by the way you can feel your legs wet with your arousal gushing from your core.

You try to get your shit together, prompting your ass back to meet his thrusts, and when you finally find his rhythm — but not without the help of his firm hands dragging you against him — the slapping sounds become so vulgar that you sob.

"That’s it, baby, that’s what you wanted, right?" He mumbles, voice barely coherent as his throbbing cock relentlessly drills your pussy. "To be fucked so hard, to be so stuffed you aren’t able to speak, hum?"

You hum, feeling like you’ll scream if you open your mouth.

Namjoon doesn’t like it, though. He hates the way you’re suppressing your pleasing from him.

"I thought I told you I wanna hear you losing it, baby. Where’s your filthy mouth?"

"So… you… so good, Namjoon… fuck" you stutter.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, shit, go harder."

His eyes flutter shut for a second.

"Anything you want, princess."

Namjoon shifts his legs, trying different angles to make you unable to hold your pretty sounds in. He attempts a couple of ways before he sets his left foot on the mattress, and when he resumes his thrusting a loud scream rips from your throat.

"That’s it, Namjoon, god, there. Please, do it again." You plea, voice pathetically high as you clench around him.

Your moaning is fuel to him, and he starts to fuck you as hard as he can, loving how you’re spiraling under him, tortured sounds finally reaching his ears.

"You feel so good, baby." You say and Namjoon growls.

Just as blissful as the sensation of his cock deep inside of your tight walls, is knowing that he’s making you feel on the fucking moon too. So, he seeks the same spot over and over again, his purpose clear.

You roll your hips, grinding on his cock.

God, it's such a shame you're not into degradation. All Namjoon wants it's to call you his slut.

"Shit, princess, you’re so greedy, fucking yourself with my cock."

You push your ass back again, but this time you feel his balls slapping against your clit and you both falter as lightning courses through your bodies, making you constrict your pussy around him.

"Do that again, baby girl." He commands, and you fucking obey.

You clench around his cock again, and Namjoon goes feral.

His strokes are hard, but so fucking precise that the way he’s railing your pussy makes you feel like you’re losing your grip on reality. 

Shit, this is too fucking good, and Namjoon feels dizzy. If he wasn’t drunk before he certainly feels like it now, thoroughly enjoying the way you’re completely unraveling under him.

"You’re squeezing me so good, so fucking tight for me." He groans out.

His fingers dig into your flesh in a way that you’re sure it’ll definitely bruise — but you want it too. You want him to mark you all over with the evidence of how good he’s fucking you, of how good he’s making you feel.

Your mind is clouded. Your knuckles sore from how hard you’re clutching the sheets.

Namjoon’s so fucking satisfied, pride exuding from his body as he looks down at you on his bed, being fucked senseless as he drills his cock in and out of you, loud slapping and squelching sounds making it even more obscene.

"You take me so well, shit, such a good girl." Namjoon groans, hypnotized by the way your body rocks with the force of his thrust.

You could die a happy woman just from the way he praises you. His words making your stomach twists in what you’re sure will be another mesmerizing orgasm. 

"I could fuck you all night, baby, and I just know you’d take it."

"Yeah, Namjoon— I, I would." You yelp. "I will."

He has the audacity to chuckle. 

"I’ll hold you up on that offer later."

You’re already so close again. God, you don’t wanna come like this, you don’t wanna come so soon.

"Namjoon?" You call and he hums in response. "I wanna ride you."

Did he win the lottery or something? He feels like he doesn’t deserve it. God, he missed like, three essay deadlines this semester, he definitely doesn’t deserve it. 

"Fuck, yeah, baby, you can ride me."

He slips out of you, and wastes no time crawling to sit at the headboard.

Namjoon reaches out to hold you, helping you straddle him with your wobbly legs. He laughs when you take a deep breath, goosebumps all over your skin.

"You sure you can ride me, though?"

"Shut up" you hiss, trying to concentrate before you wrap your hand around his length and lift over him to align him with your entrance.

A shaky cry falls from your lips as you gradually sink in his dick. The stretch is completely different and his fat cock splits you open so deliciously that you somehow feel even fullen than before.

"Fuck, I love this position." He reads your thoughts.

You just nod, unable to think as you find purchase on his shoulders. When you’re finally fully seated, you feel like Namjoon's cock is touching your soul.

"Fuck, Namjoon, you’re huge."

His face is all scrunched up, brows knit together in pleasure, and you’re almost angry at how beautiful this man is. The nerve.

"God, this pussy so fucking tight."

You take a deep breath, and swiftly roll your hips over him. Namjoon’s head thumb back and you feel so fucking powerful when his hands grab your ass, trying to guide you over him to reproduce the feeling. So you grind on him again, making his cock reach spots you didn’t even know you had.

After rolling a bit more on his lap, you muster all the strength you can and lean back, planting your palms on his thighs — have you mentioned how fucking beautiful his thighs is? — before slowly raising yourself.

The second time you drag your pussy down his length is even more delicious, and it makes you feel so good that you feel like this is wrong in some way.

Ok, who are you kidding?

You’re both pure sin at this point. There’s no turning back from the obscenities you two said tonight.

So yeah, fuck it.

You try to focus as you slowly start to move your hips up and down, regretting all the times your friends tried to convince you to exercise and you didn’t, because you can’t seem to find a pace.

But Namjoon, so very attentive to your needs, grabs your hips, helping you establish a sluggish pace — but a pace nonetheless.

You gradually start to feel more comfortable, more capable, and Namjoon’s grip on your waist is now more for his own sake than yours when your movements speed up.

Soon enough, you’re riding him in earnest, in a hard rhythm that makes you meet his pelvis each time, his thighs quiver under your weight in the most gorgeous way as you send Namjoon to the places he not long ago made you visit. 

A proud grin settles on your face, watching him grunt with each stroke. 

"You're so good for me, baby, letting me fuck you like a good boy" you echo his words, almost teasing, but your shaky tone betrays you.

"You fuck me so good, princess."

Shit, you feel lightheaded.

Namjoon bites his lip, eyes transfixed on your bouncing tits. He takes your boobs in his palms, caressing and grasping them softly, your sounds music to his ears.

Your gaze falls to his neck, not nearly enough marked by you, so you dive to his throat, tongue licking up to his ear before you start to kiss and suck harshly at his pulse points, making him moan loudly into your ear.

"You’re so sweet and big for me" you say, clenching around him and you feel his dick twitching inside.

"Shit, baby, do it again." He asks, and you promptly close your walls around him again.

Namjoon’s not sure how long he’ll last with you on top of him like this, riding the soul out of his body while your lips worship his neck. But he needs you to come first — or rather, again, but this time around his throbbing cock.

Thankfully you’re not far. Your lower belly is contracting, nearing your high, and you’re so gone that you could tell Namjoon you love him at this point, you don’t even care — and you don’t think he does either.

"You’re so good for me, my pretty girl."

His? Shit, can you have that on paper?

"All yours, baby."

You yelp when Namjoon’s thumb finds your clit and starts rubbing you. The pad of his fingers spreads your wetness over your bundle of nerves, your heart ramming against your ribcage.

"Baby, I’m… I’m close." You're fucking panting, that's what you are.

"Thank god." He breaths. "Can I take over, princess?"

You nod, and Namjoon circles his strong arm around your waist, turning you without slipping his dick off of you.

When he suits himself above you, you immediately wrap your legs around his torso, and Namjoon starts to fuck you like he’s made for it. Fuck, why does he feel like he is, though?

His thrusts are relentless, but he uses his last working braincell to aim his cock against the spots he’s learned that make you cry louder — which you do.

Your hands grip at his hair, tugging hard as your head falls back.

You have to gather all the focus you possibly can to open your mouth, your voice barely a whisper.

"Choke me, baby."

Namjoon gulps.

"What."

"Please, choke me."

"Shit, princess." Is this what dying feels like?

Namjoon closes his hand around your neck, fingers pressing down your pulse points as he feels your erratic heartbeat slightly soothing under his fingertips. Why is this so hot?

Your every sensation is heightened. His cock heavenly railing you, his hot breath fanning against your sweaty skin, the loud sounds that fall both from where your bodies meet and from his mouth.

It takes barely a minute before white spots blur your vision. The tight not in your stomach snaps so fucking hard a scream leaves your parted lips.

Namjoon wants to know how to immortalize the way your face scrunches up when you come — would you let him do it again just so he can take a picture?

The force of your orgasm makes your pussy clench hard around his cock, and you milk him and your body quivers violently. When your back arches from the bed, his bed, he swears you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

His thrusts become shallow, and you’re still rocking with the afterwaves of your orgasm, fighting through the overstimulation when Namjoon feels his own high approaching, so he quickly pulls himself out of your cunt.

He rips the condom off of his cock, tossing it wherever for him to mind later, and starts to pump himself above you. And what a fucking sight to behold.

"Come for me, baby, you’ve been so good, I want you to come all over me."

And like the good boy he is, Namjoon immediately does.

His hot white cum paints your belly just like he promised, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he empties himself over your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent.

You look down, wetting your lips before you bring your finger to your belly. You collect his cum with a flicker of your finger, and take your hands to wrap your mouth around, tasting his salty orgasm with a satiated hum.

Namjoon shudders. In that second, he wants nothing more than to come again just to see you eat his cum out of yourself once more.

"You’re a fucking menace, you know that?"

You smile innocently, and he falls beside you on his sheets.

Namjoon’s breath is uneven, and he brings his hands to push his hair out of his face.

You turn to him, a large grin on your lips. Namjoon’s eyes find yours.

"What?" His lips curve upwards.

"Fuck, sweet boy, I think I’m in love."

You two start giggling, you shake your shoulders in pure mirth while his laugh reverberates all through his body — you both find those sounds just as attractive as the obscenes ones you were eliciting just now.

It takes some time before your shared amusement softly becomes small snickers. 

"Still with the sweet thing?"

"You’re the best I’ve ever had, baby, you’re definitely my sweet boy." He takes his lips in his teeth, shaking his head. 

"I’m the best, huh?"

"Hell, yeah, I’m fucking giggling, Namjoon. Really, what the fuck."

"You’re the best pussy I’ve ever had. I honestly couldn’t be happier your brother bailed on you."

"Shut up." You playfully shove his shoulder, chuckling.

"Seriously, though, introduce me to him, I need to thank him."

"Don't ruin it." You joke.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, collecting your breaths.

"Wait, be right back."

Namjoon lazily gets on his feet, grabbing the used condom from the floor and heading to his bathroom, closing the door.

He returns a couple minutes after, a towel in his hand as he crawls back to bed and starts to gently clean your stomach, reaching your pussy and easing the mess he’s made of you.

"Thanks."

"Don’t mention it." You try to get out of bed, but your shaky legs make you stumble as you get up.

Namjoon quickly helps you steady yourself, a proud smile curving his lips.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure."

"Uhm… also, do you mind if I stay the night?" You ask, glancing at the clock on his bedside table, noting it’s way past one in the morning.

"Princess, I expect you too." Namjoon smirks. "We’re not nearly done."

Namjoon somehow can look even better in the morning.

You wake up feeling his serene heartbeat beneath your ear, his arms enveloping you and your legs entangled.

You’ve been just peacefully staring at him for around ten minutes now.

At first it was because you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, sore to the bones. But then, it was because he’s just so damn beautiful you couldn’t help it.

He takes a deep breath, stretching his limbs as he wakes up, yawning loudly. You inch closer and give him a quick peck on his cheek, before resting your chin on his chest.

"Good morning, pretty girl" he smiles, opening his eyes and tugging you closer.

"Morning, sweet boy."

"How long you’ve been awake?"

"Not sure. Ten minutes?"

"Wow, and you’ve just been staring at me? That's so creepy." You roll your eyes, and he chuckles.

Neither of you speaks for another couple of minutes, bathing in the calmness of the morning.

"You ok?" He asks.

"Yeah. Really sore, though."

"Well, you asked for it."

"I did, didn’t I?" You grin. "And you gave it to me like the good boy you are." You tease, kissing his lips.

He reciprocates the touch, but neither of you takes it further.

So. Fucking. Tired.

"I see I wasn’t able to teach you how to behave."

"I’m a lost cause, but I appreciate the effort." He huffs out a laugh, closing his eyes.

"What time is it?"

You turn on his hold to face his clock. "Almost ten."

"Hum."

Namjoon doesn’t make any move to get up, and you start to look over his room. For some reason, you didn’t pay it the slightest attention the night before.

"You in college?" You ask, when you notice tons of books piled on the floor near his dresser.

"Yeah, in my last year."

"Uhm, so pretty boy is also intelligent." He snickers.

"My good looks can be deceiving."

"I was deceived indeed. You have such a dirty mouth, I was baffled." He shoves you away from his grip, groaning.

"You're one to say, the filthiest girl I’ve ever met."

"The filthiest? You flatter me." You laugh, as he playfully pushes you to the other side of the bed. "Oh c’mon, you liked it."

He smiles. "Yeah, I did."

He’s so tender you almost feel shy.

"What do you study?"

"Literature."

"It suits you." You say, scanning his face.

"Thanks, I really like it. But what about you? Aren’t you in college?"

"I graduated last year."

"What you do?"

"Architecture."

"That’s nice."

"Yeah. I’m on a work trip, actually."

"You’re not from here?"

"No, I live in Busan."

"Oh. My roommate is from Busan."

"You have a roommate?" You ask, mortified, but Namjoon chuckles.

"Don’t worry, he was out. He didn’t hear the way you were screaming last night." You shake your head, a smile on your face. Namjoon breathes deeply before lifting to a sitting position on the bed. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just use the bathroom real quick."

"Ok. Do you like toast? That’s basically the only thing I can make."

"Finally!"

"What?" He frowns.

"Finally you have a flaw, oh my god, I was losing hope" you say dramatically, raising your arms.

"Can't have you falling in love now, can I?" He jokes and you laugh.

Namjoon gets out of bed and you follow, heading for the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

He smiles to himself, shaking his head.

He makes his way to his kitchen, finding his roommate already there, eating his breakfast.

"Morning." He announces himself, and Jimin turns to him.

"Hey, man" he smiles mischievously, cocking his head in the direction of your clothes lying on the floor "how was the party last night?"

Namjoon's brief concern for forgetting to gather the clothes you took off in the kitchen quickly dissolves into a smirk.

"The party? Oh, I kept it in my room."

"All night?"

"All fucking night." They both chuckle. "She’s in the bathroom, so please be civil when she comes here."

Namjoon goes to his cabinets, grabbing some bread to prepare you something to eat.

"Sure, man."

"What about you? You arriving now?"

"I came home around six, I think, so I just crashed. Woke up half an hour ago."

"And how was it with that guy?"

"It was mid. But hey, it was worth the shot. Even if he has no fucking game he's still hot as fuck."

"Sorry to hear that." Jimin shrugs. 

"And what about this girl, huh?"

"Man, this girl…" Namjoon trails off, shaking his head "so fucking hot, I felt like I was dreaming."

"Really? You seeing her again then?"

"Don’t think so, she’s not from here."

"That’s too bad."

"Yeah, it’s whatever. By the way, do you wanna hang out later? There’s this music festival going on and I have no one to go with."

"Don't know, I’m probably going out with my sister today, she flew from Busan to see me."

"Oh nice. Maybe you could introduce us."

"Yeah, if she’s down maybe we can all go together to this festival." Namjoon nods.

He leans on the counter, facing Jimin, and smiles once he sees you coming from the hall.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Jimin turns back when Namjoon acknowledges you.

"Oh, hey sis!" Jimin greets automatically — before freezing completely.

Both yours and Namjoon’s eyes widen in terror.

"Chim?!"

"Wait— she’s your sister!?"

"Jimin’s your roommate from Busan?"

You stand still in the hallway, watching mortified as your brother's face contorts in a grimace, realization hitting him before he shoots his friend a deadly glare.

"God, Namjoon, you fucked my sister?!"

"I didn’t know it was your sister!"

"Man, you’re fucking gross!"

"The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!" You ask, indignant.

"My sister’s not hot!"

"Jimin?!"

"Can’t agree with you on that one, man, sorry." Namjoon argues.

"Those are my sister’s clothes, man?" He continues, ignoring what his friend said for his mental health’s sake, before he turns to you. "And you’re wearing his clothes? What the fuck?!"

"Jimin, stop being a child."

"You came to Seoul to fuck my roommate?!"

"You’re the one who stood me up last night. To fuck, may I remind you."

"Thanks for that, by the way." Namjoon interjects, winking at you, and a small smile crosses your lips before Jimin groans, exasperated.

"Seriously, man?! And what the hell happened to your neck, did he fucking punch you?"

"God, no! I just cho—"

"Shut up! God, I can’t fucking look at your two right now, unbelievable." He says, getting up in a hussle before striding to his room, cursing under his breath.

You and Namjoon are left alone in the kitchen, silence filling the room.

You gauge his expressions, realizing he’s doing the same.

"Thank fuck he wasn’t here last night." Namjoon says after a while, and you can’t contain the laugh that escapes past your lips.

"You really had to thank him, though?" Namjoon bites his lips. 

"I'd feel bad if I didn't. Mom taught me to be grateful." He bites his lip. "Do you still want that toast?"

You smile. "Sure, sweet boy."

note ↠ sooooo, what do you think? i really hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did! it took some time for me to finally be satisfied with it, and i have like, ten versions lost somewhere in my google docs lmao links ↠ navigation | masterlist | join my permanent taglist

[frances-baby-houseman]

Dear Prudence,

Three years ago, my best friend and I had a falling out. When she asked for my opinion on her new fiancé and their relationship, I expressed some concern as gently as I could. I said it was concerning to me that they had only known each other for three months, that I was her best friend and had never met him (he had no interest in meeting her friends), and that the only times she had spoken to me about him before announcing the engagement were to talk through fights they had where he took rather nasty stances against totally normal things (her having any other men’s phone numbers saved in her phone, etc). She told me that I had never supported any of her relationships, this one was much better than previous ones, and I obviously didn’t actually care for her. I told her that wasn’t true and it was actually that I loved her so much that I was willing to tell her things I could see that she didn’t want to hear.

About a week after that fight, she called me in the middle of the night from the bathroom of a party, and told me that she’s concerned about how often she’s been using different drugs since starting the relationship (I wasn’t aware of this; previously she had occasionally smoked pot and that was it). I found out where she was, picked her up and brought her back to my house. In the morning, she was already gone when I woke up. I tried to call or text her every day for two weeks after that, leaving her messages that I loved her and was there for her and ready to help her when she wanted it. She never answered or acknowledged anything. She also disappeared off all social media. I went to her apartment at the end of the two weeks and there was a “for rent” sign in the window with all her belongings cleared out. She had said she and her fiancé had found a new place and were going to be moving in together, but I didn’t know where it was.

To complicate things, this was about one month before my wedding, where she was a bridesmaid. She dropped out of all wedding-related conversations as well and didn’t come to the bridal shower. The night before the wedding, she called and asked if it would be okay for her to come still. I told her of course! I didn’t push her to talk about anything she didn’t want to and just made sure to deliver the message that I love and support her while she was there. Immediately after the ceremony, my husband and I were outside taking some photos and heard shouting from the front entrance of the hotel.

It was her fiancé, who was telling her that they needed to leave. She waved goodbye and got in the car. I smiled and lied to anyone that asked about her during the reception and said she had gotten a terrible migraine and unfortunately was home in bed, then cried in the shower at the end of the night, knowing that she was truly gone from my life after calling each other sisters for years. I sent her one more text saying I would always be there if she ever needed anything and to please reach out when she was ready to. I never heard anything.

Last week, my mother sent me a picture of the police blotter in the newspaper for her town (about two hours away from where I live), and asked if that was my friend in the mugshot picture. It was listed along with her first name and the previous fiancé’s last name. She had gotten arrested for drunk driving with her 2-year-old son in the car. My heart broke all over again. Without hearing from her/about her, I’d been able to convince myself she had left the bad relationship, gone back to complete that master’s degree program she wanted to, and was happy and healthy. This tells a different story. I know I did what I could for her, and she didn’t want to hear what I was saying or accept my help, but I feel so guilty. How do I get past this?

—Friend Break-Up

Dear Break-Up,

Do you have time this week to just sit down and cry about your friend? Seriously, put it on the calendar. Dedicate an hour to thinking about how much you miss her, how much you hate that she’s suffering, and how you wish things could be different for you two. Really mourn the friendship you could have had if she’d made different choices. Think about how much it broke your heart for her to leave your wedding. Worry about her and her 2-year-old.

You and I both know that guilt doesn’t make sense here. You were patient and accommodating and did all you could for her. And maybe feeling guilty is keeping you from experiencing the more appropriate feeling for this situation: Grief. If you give yourself a chance to experience that—not just in this one-hour appointment with yourself, but over weeks and months—might take your focus away from wondering what you could have done that would have saved her. The answer to that is, of course, nothing.

for @formerly-ujb

[justmochi]

Gloomy

pairing :: rosie x chan

word count :: 1.2k

synopsis :: chan is acting different towards rosie

time :: december 11, 2022

warnings :: angst

taglist :: @cafemilk-tea​ @cixrosie​ @moonlight-additions​ @cosmicwintr​ @astraw-astro​ @ateezjuliet​ @fromfreesia @succulentmom​ @kimhyejin3108​ @enhacolor​

Everything changed within a few hours. It seemed to her that he didn’t have any trouble putting on an act. One thing about Rosie was that she wasn’t a good liar. She’s never felt this distant from him.

Chan rubbed the back of his neck, sighing heavily while slouching on the chair across from Rosie. She was brushing her wet hair out while the tv played quietly through their hotel room.

As soon as they hit the ground in LA, they were hit with the news that they were finally out to the public. They were both shocked at first, but Rosie had finally accepted the situation for what it was and was relieved. But now she was most worried for him.

She ran her fingers through her hair before getting up and kneeling in front of him. She collected his hands, covering them with her own and rubbing her thumbs back and forth over his fingers.

“What’s on your mind?” She looked up at him, his eyes staring down at the floor and not meeting her gaze.

“I’m just worried.”

“What are you worried about?” She pursed her lips, offering her full attention to him.

“It’s all eyes on us now. Everyone is going to start picking us apart and criticizing us.”

“Chan, listen to me.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes, softening her features while looking up at him. “Your biggest critic is yourself. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

She patted his knee, standing up straight and wrapping her arms around him. She rubbed her hand up and down his back before he placed his head softly against her stomach.

���Don’t you feel a little relieved?” Her hand found its way onto his cheek, her thumb rubbing circles on his skin.

“Do you?”

“A lot, actually. I was starting to get worried people were taking this long to figure it out.”

He chuckled lightly, melting into her warmth.

“Come on. You’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.” She grabbed his wrists, pulling him to the bed and smiling softly.

The start of the day was busy for them, so it was hard for her to notice the signs. She didn’t realize how he was avoiding her until activities slowed down nearing their stage. He stood on the opposite side from her, being separated by their members.

She wasn’t her usual, perky self when on stage tonight. She was clearly being ignored and he didn’t try to hide it. He never made eye contact with her like they usually did when performing. She felt stiff during the performance unit’s set. And now during the encore, every time she tried to stand by his side, he’d turn and walk away from her.

She wasn’t one who could put up a front for long. Now she just felt empty and could do nothing about it. She knew he was doing it on purpose at this point. And she was starting to take it to heart.

It was consuming her. It was all she could think about and it was sabotaging her performance.

Everything was hectic until they got on the plane. When they could finally take a second to catch their breaths, Rosie tried reaching for his hand. He was staring out the window, flinching at her touch and locking their eyes on each other. She was truly shocked, taken back that tears started to well up in her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He let his walls fall, reaching for her face when she pushed his hands away.

“Don’t touch me.” She pulled away from him as best as she could. She wiped her eyes, getting out of her seat and finding the bathroom. Luckily, it was vacant so she quickly locked herself in before pressing her hand to her mouth. She let the tears fall, her head dropping as she quietly sobbed in the confined space.

She really felt stupid for crying over something like this, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She knew it was going to be difficult, but nothing like this.

She collected herself, wiping her face clean of any tears or makeup that may have smudged. She studied herself in the mirror, annoyed and fed up with how she looked.

When she finally left the bathroom and found her seat again, his full attention was on her now. What had changed?

“Jagi, are you okay?-“ He leaned over in his seat, trying to get a good look at her.

“Don’t call me that.” Rosie snapped at him, finally revealing her red eyes and nose to him. “I get that you’re trying to keep a low profile but now you’re just being mean at this point.”

“What?”

She slapped herself on the knee, the tears falling all over again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You can at least act like you know me. You haven’t batted an eyelash towards me today, and now you won’t even let me touch you.”

She tried to keep her voice at a minimum, feeling the stares of her fellow members as she cried.

“Rosie, I’m sorry-“

“Are you? I mean what the fuck? I knew it was going to be rough but don’t you think you’re taking it a little too far?” She hid her face in her hands, feeling his hand on her shoulder. He leaned in closer to her, moving her hair behind her neck and kissing her cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m really so sorry. I thought it would help if we toned everything down.”

“Why are you so afraid of what people might think of us? Do people’s opinions really matter that much to you?”

He frowned, grabbing her hands that were balled into fists. He sighed, turning her chin towards him. “I only care about what people might say about you.”

She blinked, trying to clear her vision that was blurry because of her crying. “What?”

“I didn’t want people to say bad things about you. If you saw the things people were saying about you already,” He wiped her tears with the pads of his thumb, kissing her forehead and rubbing her back. “I’m sorry if I took it too far.”

She sniffled through her nose, using her sleeve to clean the tears on her chin. “You did take it too far. So you can cut the act because you’re really hurting my feelings.”

He pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting you but it only hurt you in the end.”

She let out a sigh of relief, finding comfort within his scent. “You know I don’t care about what people think of me. Of us. I love you and I’m not gonna apologize for loving you. I am not gonna be intimidated by meaningless comments because I am in love with you. You shouldn’t either. So don’t think you’re doing me a favor because I guarantee there was more harm done tonight.”

Chan brushed his fingers through her hair, whispering apologies over and over. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better. This didn’t happen the way we had hoped, but we just have to deal with it. It will die down eventually.”

“I just don’t understand why the company is taking so long to say anything.”

“You know they’ve never been in a hurry about things when it comes to me.”

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, frowning as he comforted her. She was right. Whenever something came her way, it would take many days before the company stood behind her. They were probably hoping it would go away on its own. It was just a waiting game and good publicity at this point.

[gojou-violin]

[3] vulnerability

| chapter 3: finding out the truth

| pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!oc

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. cursing. mentions of sex, violence, death, etc.

| summary: seena talks to gojou and nanami about her date.

| wc: 4.2k

| a/n: as usual, i love talking about this story, so if you have any questions about seena, the plot, etc. etc., feel free to send asks!

In the morning, I found myself not in Toji’s arms as I anticipated I would be, considering he held me like a cobra squeezing its prey all night. Instead, I was on one side of the hotel bed, alone, the covers draped over my body so perfectly it was obvious that he had done it to protect me from the air conditioner that was pointed directly at me. I sat up to look around for him. Not in the bed, no lights on in the bathroom, and no sign that he was coming back because his clothes and belongings were gone. I sighed and tucked my knees up to my chest. A fool I was indeed. I warned myself that a man like Toji wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to really take things seriously. Our date was just an excuse to get in my pants… And it worked.

An alarm on my phone went off to indicate that I needed to go home if I was to get ready and get to the school on time. Good news was, my apartment was on the way to the school, so it wasn’t exactly out of the way or a nuisance to simply shower, grab my uniform, fix my hair, and make sure there was no hint of what I had done. The students liked to look for clues. What did Seena Kiyomi do on her weekends? Was she dating anyone? No. Was she seeing anyone? Well… Did she have any pets? No, but I was looking to adopt soon. They were little drama-driven heathens, and though I loved them, I knew some of them too personally to risk giving them anything to chew on.

Suddenly, even though I had shut my alarm off, my phone started ringing again. I went to quickly turn the snooze button off, yet to my surprise, it wasn’t my alarm at all, it was a series of texts from Toji that had just come through. “Sorry I couldn’t stay.” “Had to go to work early.” “I hope you’re alright. Breakfast is on me, give me the receipt next time we see each other.” “We will see each other again, in case you were worried.” “Have a nice day.” “Let me know if you need anything when you wake up.” I smiled against my knees. Perhaps I had flipped on him too quickly. I thought he left because he was an asshole, even though he had proven time and again that he was anything but what his appearance made him to be. He was certainly a gentleman, not an asshole. So, I texted back a simple, “Good morning x.” Seconds later, in response, I received, “Good morning.” I rolled out of bed, grabbed my dress off the floor, slid it back on, clipped it to my collar, then replied, “I’m okay. Don’t worry about breakfast. Can’t wait to see you again.” And like an idiot, I actually pressed send on a dismissive-sounding message like that. Thankfully, Toji didn’t seem to take it that way, because he sent one last text before I left the hotel: “I’ll be waiting for your receipt for breakfast, princess.”

With a victorious grin plastered to my face, seemingly unable to be erased so long as I thought about Toji and the night we spent together. On my way to the coffee shop, I waited for more texts from him. I thought about maybe testing the waters a bit more to see if I could get away with continuously texting him, yet I managed to talk myself out of it each time just before I could press send on another stupid message that would ensure I’d never see him again. At the coffee shop, when the barista asked if I wanted a receipt, I nearly declined until Toji’s words loomed over my head. The only time I managed to text him back was when I sent a picture of the receipt, cropping out the part where I got coffee and food for Nanami, too. Toji didn’t respond.

While second-guessing myself, I made my way to the office with the food and coffee in hand. Usually, if Nanami didn’t have time to go himself, I would go for him. These days, since the Elders were up his ass so much, he never had time, so it was just expected that I got him food every day, and he always paid me back, even when I insisted that I didn’t need him to because I was the one currently in a paid position while he was just a volunteer that lounged around the school on a daily basis. That was where I happened to find him… Unsurprisingly. Lounging around the office with a newspaper in hand, Gojou sat across from him, a new student on the couch will him, while they all sat in silence. Neither of the adults acknowledged me as I walked in.

“Morning,” I bowed at the hip slightly, “Nanami-sensei.” I handed him his sandwich and coffee.

“I’ve told you before, Seena, I’m not a teacher, so don’t call me sensei.”

“Whatever you say, sensei.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Morning to you, too…” Instead of bowing this time, I walked over and smacked Gojou lightly upside the back of the head. “‘Toru.”

His Infinity had noticeably dropped the second I entered the room, which wasn’t unusual since he usually anticipated sly shoulder touches or playful side pokes because he invited my touch as a means to gauge if his emotions were out of whack and needed to be self-corrected. His emotions were always fine, though. By keeping his emotions steady, his cursed energy was balanced and strong for him to use at a moment’s notice; I couldn’t understand how he ever thought that he, the best sorcerer of our time, would have to worry about his cursed energy output.

“Who’s this?” I asked, pointing to the pink-haired boy on the couch.

“Yuuji Itadori!” the boy exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He bowed deeply at the hips. “It’s an honor to meet you, Seena-sensei.”

“Kiyomi-sensei,” Gojou corrected quickly, like they had been practicing this the entire time and yet Yuuji still failed to get it right.

“Sorry!” He bowed again. “Kiyomi-sensei!”

I smiled at him before poking Gojou’s cheek. “Care to explain?”

“Another time. Look, I got you a gift last night, Pinkie! I want you to open before doing anything else.” Gojou handed me a blush pink gift bag that had two small blush pink dessert boxes inside. “I did some sightseeing and decided to get you some kikufuku from Kikusuian, since I know you love it and the packaging so much.”

I fell onto the couch where Gojou was reclining, squealing with excitement while kicking my heels against the floor. Kikufuku! From Kikusuian! He knew me so well! It was true that I had a bias for these treats specifically simply because they came in pink packaging, and if bought at the right time of year, they sold strawberry flavored kikufuku that were pink. To my delight, I opened one of the boxes to discover those exact desserts waiting for me. I cheered happily.

“Arigato gosaimas.” I handed him one as a token of my appreciation, while I bit into the other. I melted into the couch. “So… good…”

“You’re in a particularly cheery mood this morning, See,” Nanami pointed out, still staring at his newspaper. He flipped a page.

I melted further down. “How can I not be after yesterday, and after kikufuku!”

“Yesterday?” Gojou questioned with his mouth full.

“Mhm.”

“Do tell.”

I blushed. “I’d rather not…”

My glance in Yuuji Itadori’s direction was obvious enough to warrant Gojou asking his student to leave the teachers alone for a bit so that he could go explore the school a bit before lessons. Itadori knowingly stood, bowed politely, addressed me properly, then left with a pep in his step.

I savored the last bite of my kikufuku. The whipped cream was gone, but the thick and sticky pastry was to die for, and Gojou and I both knew it, which was why it was so thoughtful of him to pick it up for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had kikufuku. Was it after my graduation? That was the last time he bought it for me, at least. How the years had flown by since I first met him at the front steps of Tokyo Tech as a scared little sixteen year old, and now we were the best of friends who loved to bully each other and Nanami, who hated our pestering.

Gojou batted his lashes at me through his blindfold. “Tell us, Pinkie!”

Nanami sighed. “I wish I never mentioned it.”

I agreed.

“Was it a guy? Oh! Was it a girl?” He grabbed my hands to say half-seriously, “See, if it’s a girl, you can tell us, we’ll love you no matter what.”

I smacked his forehead. “You’re so childish!”

“Only rarely.”

“Only always,” Nanami and I jinxed.

Gojou pouted his lip. “Please… Please, please, please…”

“Fine.” I gave in. “It’s a guy. I was actually planning on asking you guys about him, anyhow, since he seems to know you two.” I opened the next box of kikufuku, even though it was glutinous to do so. “His name’s Toji—”

I could hardly get the words out or bring the treat to my mouth before Nanami smacked his newspaper under his palm on the table to his left, and Gojou wiped his smile clean off his face to sit up tall and grab my arm so that he could force me to stand and spin around for inspection. I held onto the dessert with my teeth. Gojou spun me around and around until I got dizzy and told him to stop it. What was their deal? I hadn’t even told them the good part—

“Did he hurt you?” Nanami interrogated.

“No—”

“Did he touch you?” Gojou asked just as seriously.

“Yes.”

They both hissed quietly.

“You have to stay away from him, Seena. If it’s really him, you aren’t safe,” he explained as I sat back down.

I scoffed. “Why?”

From the corner of the room, “He nearly killed Gojou.”

I looked towards Nanami to see if he was joking for the first time in his life, yet, to my surprise, he wasn’t. Nearly killed Gojou? How was that possible? How had I not heard such a tale from them or someone else before? Killing Gojou was impossible— He was living proof of that! Hell, getting near him was a tough job in the first place. How could anyone, let alone Toji, do enough damage to nearly kill the most powerful sorcerer of our time? It sounded like a load of bullshit from two friends who were being overprotective.

“Toji was the worst of the worst,” Gojou said before they started to explain the rest.

Eleven years ago, before I attended the school— So, I wouldn’t have known about any of this firsthand, of course— Suguru Geto and Gojou were assigned a case to protect a little girl. Obviously, they couldn’t explain all of the details to me, not that they were important to the story, anyhow. But Toji was hired by some anti-sorcerers to kill the little girl. He was known for being an unbeatable mercenary. Sorcerers everywhere knew him by reputation, yet no one lived long enough to give any information about his appearance, name, age, family, allies, anything. He was a ghost.

He ended up using a public bounty on the girl to wear Gojou and Geto out. They had been fighting for two days straight before they got back to the school and they thought that they were safe, so they let their already weakened guards down, giving Toji a chance to attack Gojou with a non-cursed weapon so that he couldn’t anticipate the attack. He stabbed Gojou through the back and neck. If Gojou hadn’t been practicing his reverse cursed technique at the time, he would have died, Nanami made that very clear. If Gojou wasn’t Gojou, he would have been dead. That was just how dangerous Toji was— And if I didn’t believe them, the worst part of the story was that he successfully killed the little girl that they were assigned to protect, and he didn’t even bat an eye.

To them, Toji was the worst of the wost. That was why I had to stay away from him. They weren’t sure where he came from or why he was back, but the moral of the story, Gojou said, was that Toji wasn’t good news, and I’d end up dead if I didn’t tuck tail and run.

I shook my head. “I don’t think you guys understand that this probably isn’t the same Toji— Or if he is, maybe he’s changed! He’s been nothing but kind to me!”

“Seena, no, you don’t understand… I killed him. There shouldn’t even be a way for you to see him in the first place.” Gojou held my shoulders steady. “If it’s him, something’s wrong.”

I rolled my eyes and shimmied out of his grasp so that I could walk to the door with my desserts. “I don’t think it’s the same guy. I appreciate your guys’ worry, though.”

“He had a shikigami on his shoulder.”

I paused.

“A worm-looking thing… And he carried the Inverted Spear of Heaven with him.”

Only the first part meant anything to me, yet I still couldn’t move. The Toji I knew had a worm-like shikigami on his shoulder, but perhaps it was just a coincidence, or perhaps it was all still a joke the boys were pulling to try to prove a point about not going on dates with random men. If only they knew how far it really went with Toji.

“When I killed him, his shikigami shriveled up, and I took the sword and hid it. If he has either or both of those, Seena, you have to tell us. If he has the sword again, he’s dangerous— Too dangerous for any of us to even leave the school anymore.”

I gulped before forcing a smile onto my face, then turned to face them, “It’s a different Toji. The one I met doesn’t know anything about sorcery or curses. He’s just a plain, regular, boring human.” I brightened my smile. “Like I said, it’s nothing to worry about!”

“You’re sure? What did he look like?” Nanami interrogated.

Fuck, fuck, shit… “Blonde, like you. Blue eyes, like Gojou. I think he might be American. He mentioned something about his family living in Hawai’i.”

That was a good enough lie, right? It sounded reasonable enough; and it was the opposite of everything Toji was, so there was no way they could think anything like their Toji was simply changing appearances to go under the radar. Neither of them relaxed, however.

I tucked some of my hair behind my ear. “Anyhow—” I laughed nervously. “Where’s Megumi-kun? Is he back from his mission?”

Gojou slowly nodded.

“I’ll have to yell at you later about sending him out without telling me; but for now…”

They both watched me suspiciously as I continued to force my smile through the anxiety pumping through my chest before I could make a run for it to hide in my office where I could collect myself, my thoughts, and my notes for meeting with Megumi after his mission. If he wasn’t with Gojou, my first assumption was that he was brooding in his room, so that was where I went looking for him.

When I first started working at the school, the thought of walking into the student dorms terrified me— As a student, my time in the dorms was less than ideal, so when I was offered free housing within the dormitories, I declined; but sometimes I was required to visit students in the dormitories, for a handful of different reasons, however it usually had to do with students being injured and unable to walk down to my office. In Megumi’s case, he usually just didn’t want to make the walk. Sometimes I would convince him to go on walks with me to get fresh air, other times he would throw me out of his room the second I appeared. Gojou and Yaga had finally put their foot down about the matter about a month ago when I cried to ‘Toru about not knowing how to get through to Megumi when he wouldn’t even listen to me in the first place— Now he never kicked me out.

Walking through the dormitories in the middle of the day when students were in classes or on missions was an eerie feeling for sure. If it weren’t for the fact that I had lived in the very same buildings that I now worked in, I would have thought the place was abandoned altogether. That was just the rules of the school. Anything personal had to be kept behind closed doors, and if that rule was broken in even the slightest, whoever the culprit was had to spend their weekend cleaning up Principal Yaga’s messes to learn their lesson. I would have died in high school if I was one of those kids. Nowadays, the only culprit was Ineka.

As I approached Megumi’s door, I took a moment to prepare myself. He was just a kid. How could I be so scared of a little kid? Come on now, Seena, just do your job— It wasn’t like he was any more terrifying than Nanami or Gojou… Actually, scratch that, those two were idiots, anyone could be scarier than them… Fuck it.

Semi-queitly, I knocked on his door, hoping that if he was resting or studying that I wouldn’t disturb him, yet I still needed to be heard. I heard a groggy reply that prompted me to gently open the door and peek my head in to find that he was resting on his bed like he had been sleeping until I intruded.

“Gomen. Should I come back later?”

Megumi pushed himself upright before leaning back against his headboard. “Ieiri-senpai says I just need to rest a lot, but I can’t. Might as well ask, while you’re here, if you can, you know…”

“Yes, I know.” I grabbed the chair at his desk. “Inumaki-kun told you?”

“Ineka, actually.”

“Ah, I see.” I pulled the chair up to the side of his bed, then sat down. “We should talk first.”

He shrugged.

“Would you like to tell me where Gojou sent you this time?”

“Sendai.”

I waited for him to elaborate because I had already known that much due to Gojou’s gift to me; however, Megumi was always a reserved person who never liked to ramble. Whenever asked a question, his answers were concise, never losing a second on wasted details. I should have known this conversation wasn’t going to be easy.

“And what happened up there?”

“The new kid, the one with the pink hair, his name’s Yuuji. He’s not like us, he wasn’t born with a cursed technique. He’s only here because I was an idiot.”

Well, that certainly wasn't the answer I wanted or expected. So much for being concise.

I raised a brow. “What are you talking about?”

Megumi tucked his knees up to his chest to hide his shame. “Gojou sent me to collect one of Sukuna’s fingers, and while I was trying to take it, Yuuji ate it. He’s a vessel of Sukuna now.”

I was ashamed to admit it, but I didn’t really know who Sukuna was. I knew him by name, but I didn’t know any details about who he was or why he was so notorious within the world of sorcery. Megumi stared at me blankly. Like, as if to say, “Really? Are you joking?” And I stared back at him to let him know that I was completely serious.

Megumi sighed. “Fine.”

He did me the favor of explaining the story to me. A thousand years ago, Ryomen Sukuna ruled over the world of sorcery. He was known as the King of Curses. He was cruel, power hungry, and completely full of himself. He ended up marrying a powerful sorceress named Ariza who lived her life as a fugitive on the run from the Elders, but she found safety with her husband who had the wealth and power to protect her. However, Sukuna was butchered and executed in front of Ariza when they were finally caught, and she was sold off to a sorcerer who helped the Elders during the war. Ariza managed to live a full year with that sorcerer as his slave before she finally killed herself, and everyone was so sure that it was because she couldn’t bear to live without Sukuna anymore, and because her life alone was one filled with all types of torture that no woman, criminal or not, should ever have to face. Little did she know, though, Sukuna’s fingers held lots of his power in them even after they were detached from his body before his death, so when they were scattered out around the country, they became beacons of power. Curses that ate them gained the power of Sukuna. Sorcerers that found these fingers and tried to consume the power would go mad and die. That was until Yuuji Itadori, the pink haired kid I met in the teacher’s lounge, who had apparently eaten one of these fingers in order to defeat a curse… And he was still alive, and according to Megumi, he was actually able to be a successful vessel for the King of Curses.

“And Ariza?” I pressed on.

“Still dead.”

I sighed to myself. I knew so little of this sorcerer Sukuna and his wife, and while I should have judged them for the life they lived and I should have been scared of the power Sukuna held, part of me felt bad for their tragic love story. Thinking about it silently, if that had happened to me, I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself… Being alone and tortured? I wouldn’t have made it as long as Ariza did.

Megumi sighed again and slumped back into his bed, whispering all depressed and broody, “I think I’m done with your interrogation for now.” He rolled onto his side to face away from me.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not an interrogation, Megumi-kun.”

He didn’t reply, so I figured that it was my turn to do as I promised in exchange for him giving me the opportunity to talk to him for a bit. While I knew that I would try again soon, I reached out for Megumi, carefully putting a hand on his bicep, shivering at how cold his skin was, and I took in a deep breath while focusing on using my cursed technique. Sleep… He was already so tired, I could tell that he would have passed out within an instant on his own if it hadn’t been for the guilt he had buried in his chest about his friend Yuuji, whom I could tell he cared so deeply for. I was shocked, considering he said they had only just met. Then again, I supposed I couldn’t have judged him too harshly for clinging onto someone knew when I had practically done the same with a stranger I went to bed with—

I had to stop my thoughts from wandering before my technique was inhibited.

Sleep soundly…

Within an instant, Megumi’s body relaxed under my touch, and he let out a snore. He was fast asleep, letting his body get the rest he desperately needed after the mission Gojou sent him on. I was going to have to speak with Gojou. I knew that he trusted Megumi because they’d known each other since Megumi and his sister were kids, but sending him after a legendary finger worth so much? What was Gojou thinking? And now an innocent boy had gotten dragged into our mess of a world.

“Sleep well, Megumi-kun,” I whispered as I left his room.

Toge was returning to his room as I entered the hallway. We smiled at each other briefly, and I thought about how I’d done the same for him after the attack in December when he was terribly injured and couldn’t sleep due to the pain and the worry he had for Ineka. The circumstances had been so different back then. Inumaki had barely been clinging to life, I was so worried that he would die in my care; but now he was fine, and my technique was wasted on things like Megumi wanting to pout in his bedroom without being bothered by anyone.

“Inumaki-kun?” I spun on my heels to face him shortly after we had passed each other. He stopped to face me. “Have you met the new kid?”

He shook his head and signed to me that he, Maki, and Panda were being sent on a mission within the next hour, so he wouldn’t have time to introduce himself.

I furrowed my brows. “Gojou?” I signed.

He nodded. “Gojou,” he signed.

I sighed. “Alright, thank you.”

Satoru Gojou… He and I were going to have to have a little chat about sending his students off so often without telling the staff first.

taglist: @aylitgirl , @ifeelsofilthy , @preciousamethyst , @justanotherpasserby , @lyteatus , @unknownspecies , @tojishugetiddies , @diorsbrando , @thisbicc

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 34,491 (whoops)

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

APRIL 2027- part 1 (warnings: mention/discussions of death, grief, panic attack, angst, (foul) language)

Burnsville, Minnesota is a beautiful city. So much architecture, so many buildings, there’s literally everything you could have ever imagined. It’s only 15 miles from Minneapolis, so there’s even a greater opportunity to explore the sights. Only I wasn’t here for that.

I stand in front of the hotel mirror in my black halter top and black dress, with my black shoes, and my black purse, and my black, charred heart. Today is Ryan’s wake, and tomorrow is the funeral. His family wanted to wait until the season ended to arrange services so there would be more availability. The flight here did not feel real in any circumstance. God, I wish I could’ve boarded that plane with better reason.

I’ve been to my fair share of wakes and funerals. Actually, that’s a lie. Probably only 2 each. It’s because I’ve never experienced that much death in my life, that much mourning. Not until today. I mean, what are you supposed to converse about with people besides the dead body in front of you? Oh, I forgot. Ryan will be in an open casket. That just makes me even more terrified. I know that reaction is not going to go over well. Luckily, the wake is going to be broken up into groups of people so that the room is not completely bombarded, with family and close friends given the first look.

I never mentioned how terrible my sleep schedule has been these past few weeks. I’m going to bed around midnight, some nights close to 3:00AM, because all I can think about is him. His laugh. His voice. His hands and how they’d gently interlock with mine or hold my face. His continuous yet ridiculous rants. Fucking everything about him. I still can’t shake it. It doesn’t help that I’m living with another man.

Living with Jimmy has not been incredibly challenging. We don’t tend to speak much throughout the day. He knows I want to stay grounded in my solitude, but he always says he’s here if I need him. The sentiment is appreciated, but he needs to stop thinking I’m gonna fall apart in one motion. That already happened. It’s just disintegrating a lot slower than I thought it would. I pass the time by sitting out on the private balcony in my room. Listening to the city sounds somewhat helps, and I can get some fresh air. Maybe look for him in the sky. I haven’t found an earthly sign that he’s trying to communicate with me yet, but I’ll be damned to find one.

The car ride to the wake can be described using my favorite word: quiet. The two of us are sitting in the front of a rental Mercedes Benz, and I gotta say that this car is incredibly sleek. The seats are comfortable, there’s a lot of space, and it’s fast. It’s really cool, to be honest with you. Jimmy’s driving, again, because when does he not in this case? I don’t think he seems to mind it. He’s wearing a light blue button down and black dress pants with matching shoes. He’s gently holding onto the wheel as if he makes too abrupt of a movement, he’s gonna ruin the car somehow. Another thing that I can finally enjoy about the silence is that he’s stopped giving me those secret glances. I think he’s taken the long-awaited hint. For a man with a Harvard degree, you’d think he’d pick up on it faster.

We pull into the funeral home parking lot and back in to a reserved spot. The car gets put in park and Jimmy leans back in his seat, unbuckling his seatbelt before letting out a quick sigh. I see him look up at the moonroof and then back down at the wheel. I shift in my seat to look at him. His face is flushed and his right hand is shaking in its place on the overhead compartment.

“What is it?” I say quietly. I don’t want to freak him out. I already know he is.

He lets out another sigh, only this time it’s ragged. “It’s just a lot,” he breathes.

Now it’s my turn to give him my best puppy dog eyes. “I know,” I reply. “We can stay here for a few minutes. It doesn’t officially start till 1 anyway.”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, that’d be good,” he says, reaching into the cupholder to retrieve his water. I watch him open the cap and swallow 4 times before putting it back on. He’s nervous. But he’s acted so calm prior.

I stare out the main window. It’s been drizzling on and off so far today. I guess Mother Nature really wants to bring the appropriate weather on this type of occasion. At least it’s not pouring, or thundering, or anything like that. I would hate for the sky to have a meltdown today. I’d rather have it come in waves. Slow progression can still anticipate the worst.

I notice strangers making their way into the entrance of the funeral home. That’s when it starts to feel real. They don’t look familiar to me in any way. For all I know, they’re friends and extended family of Ryan’s that I never got the chance to meet, though he talked about them to no end. It was nice being able to hear about people in his life. I guess they meant a lot to him too.

I hear the engine turn off before Jimmy lightly taps my elbow, causing me to flinch. “Sorry,” he says in some form of a hushed whisper.

“It’s okay,” I mutter.

“You ready to go?” he responds.

“Not really,” I reply, “but I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Jimmy opens up the drivers side door, so I take it as a sign to open up mine. I shut it behind me and he locks the Benz before we walk across the parking lot. The chill in the air did not help my nerves. In fact, it only made my heart feel colder. Currently, there’s no light that would bring it back to life.

He opens the door and lets me go in front of him before shutting it. We make our way to the reception area where we sign in. We’re gestured to a smaller room, I guess to wait in, before we actually go see Ryan. With the exception of Ryan’s family, they’ve only limited 8 guests at a time with 20-25 minute intervals. Given how many doors were closed, we’d be waiting a little while.

Of course the room we walked into was where the team stood, Lavi, the rest of the coaching staff, the equipment manager, everybody. I gotta say, they did a good job at organizing who goes in each room. I would rather be in a room full of familiarity than mystery.

My heart wrenches seeing the team. I haven’t seen them since my birthday celebration. I never ended up going to the mandatory team meetings, never responded in the group chat, never reached out individually. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But now I’m faced with those incorrect choices when they all stop and look at me.

“Hi,” I say meekly. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see all of you. Sorry I haven’t contacted any of you until now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lavi replies. “We’re just glad everyone’s here together.”

I nod. “Yeah, uh, me too. Do we know how long until we go in?”

“There’s three rooms of Ryan’s friends and family ahead of us, so I’d say about an hour,” Chris says. “We tried getting in one of those rooms, but I guess they’re putting family first.”

I scoff. “We’re his family,” I mutter. “Bullshit.”

I make my way to an unoccupied chair over near the bar area and sit down to rest my already aching feet. I gotta say the rooms were set up really nicely. There were couches and chairs and a mini TV with a little fridge. It was spacious, but with everyone crammed in this room, I felt claustrophobic. I take a deep breath to control my bubbling frustration.

Quickly, everyone forms little groups to converse with. Yet, here I am on the outside looking in. I don’t think they’re avoiding me intently, more just giving me space. Again, I respect it, but it’s not like I’m gonna throw a hissy fit in this very moment. Or maybe it’s because they’ll know I won’t want to talk. So I pass the time fidgeting with my bracelet. Yeah, I chose to wear it. I guess I can see the ‘R’ as a reminder that he’ll always be linked to me in some sort of way, even if it’s no longer physical.

I watch Jimmy caught up in a conversation with Vinny and Laffy. He seems a lot more relaxed now. His face has returned to a normal color and his hands stopped shaking. Instead, they’re just swaying at his sides. I notice his watch reflect onto the ceiling light. He cracks that tight-lipped smile. It’s crooked, and it’s awkward, but it’s what makes him, well, him. It eases me to know he doesn’t feel restricted the way he did a little bit ago. He doesn’t have anything to release his anxiety, but for all I know, it’s pent-up inside getting ready to burst at any given moment. Jimmy’s always been calm, cool, and collected. There are times where I’ve seen him visibly frustrated and have a little bit of an attitude, but it would last for a short time before he returned to being even-tempered. He’s not the type of guy to yell and raise his voice when he’s upset. You can talk about anything with him and he’ll always listen before responding. He barely interrupts when someone talks and is always looking for a way to help if the person wants it. Sometimes, I really want to pick at his brain, wonder what he thinks, wonder what his true perceptions are of someone. He’s got the words, he’s got the awareness, and he’s got the right way on how to deliver the message. However, I can’t help but think if he has one person that he’s able to talk to about anything and everything. Given the current reality, I’m afraid he’s suppressing himself so that he can be there for others. All I know is that I would not want to be there when, and if, he blows up. I’d be scared.

I keep my distance from him for now. He seems content. I don’t want to disturb it. I feel that I’ve disturbed his life already anyway.

I stand up from the chair and make my way to a more comfortable looking seat, AKA the couch. It’s white with gold specs. It’s really fancy for a funeral home, I must say. I’m afraid to even scuff it up with my shoes, so I refrain from crossing my legs. I just sit there like a frozen statue, waiting for one of my worst nightmares to come true.

Thirty minutes have passed, and conversation is still flowing with the occasional light laughs and quick transition in topics. I’m staring at the door now, waiting for him to walk in, tell everyone it was all a trick and he faked everybody out. I’ll kill him myself before he’d even get the chance to admit it.

[catierambles]

So I write stupid, bullshit scenarios in my head that'll never happen, right? My running one is I'm an actress and have worked on a movie with Henry Cavill and we're doing the press thing together. They range from silly to anxiety-fueled. Honestly depends on my mood.

Anywho.

This is one I came up with while I was making (regular) brownies. You'll understand why I made that distinction if you keep reading. I put it under a Keep Reading because why not

Interviewer: So, it was said a lot that you two formed quite the friendship while filiming.

Me: Yeah, he's a cool dude. I mean, he's a massive nerd, but in a cool kinda way

Henry Cavill: Gee thanks. Dork.

Me: Loser

Henry Cavill: Ass

Interviewer: Do you guys have any stories about something that may have happened during filming?

Me: I have one, during those six months we spent in Denver.

Henry Cavill: Oh god.

Me: You want to tell it, or should I?

Henry Cavill: *sigh* No, I'll do it. It'll sound less sus coming from the injured party. To preface, instead of staying in hotels or what have you during those six months, Cate and I decided to just rent an apartment. A small two-bedroom in the suburbs of Denver.

Interviewer: You two lived together?

Me: Yeah, why not. We signed a six-month lease and we were good.

Henry Cavill: Now, everything was good, everything was fine. About a month in, I get back to the apartment from filming, they didn't need her that day, and there's a tray of brownies on the kitchen island. Rule was, if it was a baked good on the island, it was fair game. I was on a very strict diet for the role, but it was brownies and I had a long day.

Interviewer: How many did you have?

Henry Cavill: Almost all of them, but that's not the point. There was another tray, however, kind of off to the side on the counter by the oven and not the island. I didn't think anything of it so I had a couple. Then I noticed they tasted funny.

Interviewer: Okay...

Me: Keep in mind, I had no idea he was back. I had my headset on and was listening to music. It wasn't until he came into my room after the fact and kinda wiggled my chair a bit to get my attention that I found out. I turned around and he asked "The brownies on the counter and not the island, what was in them?"

Henry Cavill: Her eyes went wide and she asked me "How many did you have?" I told her three. So I asked again "What was in them?"

Me: To which I replied "We're in Colorado. What do you think was in them?"

Interviewer: Oh no

Me: He told me he had to be back on set in an hour, I told him not anymore you don't and he better lay down.

Interviewer: You drugged him.

Me: N-N-No! He drugged himself. They weren't on the island and therefore not fair game. This all happened before I had the chance to tell him the other ones were special and should be eaten in moderation and under supervision.

Henry Cavill: It was rough.

Me: He got very giggly. It was actually kind of adorable.

[krissiefox]

AirHeads (1994 Movie) Review

"Who'd win in a wrestling match, Lemmy or god?"

My wife has quite the movie collection, and over the years she's introduced me to all sorts of great stuff I'd never gotten to see before. Our most recent movie viewing was Airheads, a 1994 comedy about three goofball dudes in a band trying to get their music heard on the radio. I've never tried reviewing a live action film before, but I love nerding about the media I enjoy so why not try something new?

The story is simple, but a lot of fun. We're initially introduced to protagonists Chazz, Rex, and Pip. Pip (played by Adam Sandler) is Chazz's younger brother, and he's probably the most adorable character in the movie, being much more shy and awkward than the other two guys. Adam Sandlers' appeal to me can vary wildly - he was a lot of fun as Dracula in the Hotel Transylvania movies (the ones I saw, at-least) - but then there were things like "Mall cop" that he was involved with, which I couldn't watch for more than 5 minutes because the humor was so dumb and mean-spirited.

Anyway, Chaz and company are trying to get the local radio station to play their music so they can get to be more well known. It unfortunately doesn't go well, they get snubbed pretty badly, plus Chazz's girlfriend Kayla is one of the weird assholes who throws tantrums and destroys his belongings when they have arguments, I have no idea why he puts up with her violence, but he likes this wack-job for some reason. This time she not only smashes a bunch of his stuff but also kicks him out of their apartment, so he gets desperate enough that he plans to force the radio station to play their music.

They get themselves a few squirt guns that are painted to look like real ones, and fill them up with hot sauce. They then head over to the station and after a bunch of hi-jinks finally manage to sneak into the back door. Once inside, they threaten the radio DJ with their toy guns and he tries to play their tape, but it gets messed up. As this is happening the cops are called and situation starts to escalate as a hostage situation.

At this point all sorts of stuff goes on! A guy gets sent into the building by the cops with a real gun, and almost ends up actually killing people. One of the gals working at the station ends up getting all for Pip and tries to bump uglies with him - Pip is into it but also adorably shy. Chazz's girlfriend shows up with the backup tape and *sighs* decides to also destroy the radio stations stuff, too, just to lash out at Chazz. (this gal feels like the more feminine version of those gamer dudebros who throw their xbox controllers around all the time).

Eventually their guns are found out to be just toys, and this causes the SWAT team and police to close in. Still, they manage to get their wish of having a record contract signed and even get a little stage flown in for them to play on. Since the takeover had been airing on the radio the whole time, a crowd of people have shown up to support the band, including Lemmy Kilmister! They end up destroying the little stage that was flown in for them, since the stuff on it was all just props and they couldn't play their music.

They later get a happy ending even when ending up in jail, though, as they get to perform their music in prison and sell a very successful album too!

Overall, the movie is very fun, with lots of great humor. I was kind of put off by Chazz's girlfriend being such an asshole, but everyone else was very likable. Kinda like Jack Black's School of rock, the movie is also jam packed with all sorts of fun band references and even a few cameos (the aforementioned Lemmy as well as the band White Zombie playing in a bar scene). It's a got a feel good ending where "the little guys" get to be successful in making a career out of what they love, which is always nice. The soundtrack, as one might expect, is full of rock and metal, and kicks ass too.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Well, it wasn’t every day you found out you were working in an extension of hell — Charlie was by now well aware that Hades wasn’t hell, but she retained the right to continue to privately call it whatever she liked — but in the end it did not matter all that much. Once she had recovered from the initial shock all she had had to do was accept that apart from none of the guests being human, none of her co-workers were either. Well, no longer mortal at least.

It didn’t change her day-to-day too much. Whether Cassandra was just an exceptionally organized receptionist or a clairvoyant had no effect on either her job or their friendship. And the fact that Marsyas actually did have hooves, instead of very clunky boots, could hardly have any impact either. The only thing Charlie had resolved on was her suggestion to Echo that they both learn sign language, which she very enthusiastically accepted, but they were both so busy that would probably take a while.

So, no, when she requested a talk with her manager it wasn’t to resign, as he had feared.

“Of course not, chief,” she smiled. (He had explained that neither the name Damastes, nor Procrustes really suited him any longer and he had not yet found another one.) “What do you take me for? As long as the working conditions are good I am more than willing to work in an outpost of hell.”

He was clearly too relieved to argue with her about semantics.

“But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she continued. “Working conditions.” She fixed him with a determined expression. “We need more front of house staff. Specifically, I need someone to train to do at least part of my job, especially when I can’t be here.”

“Ah, well,” the manager said. “I am sure that will not be a problem. Provided, perhaps—” His broad shoulders stiffened a little. “You could possibly conduct the recruitment process personally…”

Charlie thought back to her own job interview and kept her face carefully neutral. “Of course, sir, if you think that is best. And I do have some thoughts on that point,” she immediately added.

The manager actually smiled. “By all means.”

“Normally I would never say this, but, don’t get someone from hospitality.” She gave him a pressing look. “I’d say customer service experience desired, but the required education should be a classics degree.”

If she was going to ever get all the nonsense in this hotel under control she really needed some help. And if her help knew about the Ancient Greek nonsense, she could teach them about the hotel nonsense.

“A...classics degree,” the manager repeated, writing it down. “I have never heard of this.”

“No need to look it up,” Charlie said. “But trust me, it’s going to make a world of difference.”

He nodded. “As long as it means your continued employment.”

She smiled. “Oh I don’t intend on leaving.” This was her hotel.

The End

[Hotel Olympus on Tumblr | Hotel Olympus on AO3]  

[whenthepwn]

what if i told you i’m a mastermind? + somikeisuke

Somi would've never expected it the way it happened, as much as she had dreamt about that: finding herself intertwined with Keisuke in bed, tangled to the point she couldn’t tell their bodies apart, nor she wanted to. Her hair sprawled all over his chest, his hands delicately tracing her back, their clothes spread around the room — she needed it to last forever. Nothing else in the world mattered but them.

She had dreamt about that moment so many times, letting her mind run wild and taking the fantasy one step higher on each turn. She had been starving for his attention ever since they met, feasting on the scrapes he occasionally threw at her, to the point that fantasizing and idealizing was the only way of avoiding going insane. He’d deliberately ignore her and she’d come up with the scenery of him fixing her necklace, he’d scold her in front of everyone and she’d vision him praising her work while taking off her skirt. If what she had to to show Keisuke she was worth of his time was enduring his little tests, she’d do it, no shadow of doubt to be seen.

Being a devoted student didn’t mean Somi wasn’t impatient. Eager to please and be praised while Keisuke found a special pleasure in criticizing her, so mixed signs from who she wanted to be her master led her to uncertainty, with a bit of frustration. Plagued by his existence wherever she went, whatever she did, a creeping madness took roots in her mind: cunning and self-righteous Somi would drop anything to be at his mercy, if only he’d be fair enough to properly recognize her efforts. Teach me how to play and I’ll never disappoint you again. Let me in and you’ll never need anyone else.

Bitterness and rejection could drive even the strongest minds to acts of stupidity, Somi learned it firsthand and drowned in her own despair. Missing classes, fooling around with boys who clearly couldn’t entertain her, ignoring Keisuke’s messages, turning in late essays; all that pent-up energy clearly wasn’t doing her any good. Still, he didn’t seem to mind, couldn’t care to even criticize her anymore.

Then one day something twisted inside her and she went back to normal: started regularly attending classes again, tried to justify her recent crisis to her professors and promised to do better again. The only one she didn’t bother explaining herself to was, you guessed it right, Keisuke. Two could play that game, or not play at all. Now their reunions were silently and quickly done, Keisuke correcting her essays while Somi did some work for other classes or scrolled through her phone. There was no game anymore, she had thought, just the toil of getting over a fruitless, embarrassing obsession she had with the first adjunct teacher to give her some attention on the new course.

She didn’t even let herself get excited when she found out the professor was looking for students to attend the next important conference, filling her mind with other worries. Her breakdown period couldn’t be ignored, and even if it could, a certain adjunct professor with an annoying tendency to keep one on their toes would probably push the decision against her. She didn’t mind so much anymore, as long as she passed the class and could simply ignore his existence after that.

But the professor himself had called her to his office and acknowledged that, while she had been lacking, she was full of potential and could be so much more, while Keisuke silently stood by their side. She tried to not let that get into her head, but the conference came around and of course she had to go, he began talking to her again, he introduced her to everyone and seemed to make a point of making her feel included, their hotel rooms were close to one another, a string of moments led them to be there, quiet in bed. When he raised his head from her legs to look her in the eyes she actually cried, more than overwhelmed for finally being touched by him, looked at by him, fulfilling the wish she was living for for what felt to be her whole life. When had she become such a silly individual?

Now she openly quizzed him, asking questions while playing with his hair and acting like she hadn’t made a fool of herself for his attention for almost an entire semester. Why did you do that?, did you have to be so cynical with me? and he patiently answered, so sweet she was afraid of waking up and finding out it had been a dream all along. As she chuckled at his response, she couldn’t help but agree: yes, he was a mastermind. They’d be so great together.

“But I need you to understand something,” she begins, carefully planning his words as to not scare him. They had come so far, Somi wasn’t about to let him ruin it for her. “Don’t do that again, please.” She wants to tell him how he has her wrapped around his finger since the moment they met. She wants to tell him how good she’ll be if he lets her. But that doesn’t meant she’d be so willing to submit herself if there was ever to be a next time. His grasp on her waist tells her that he understands what she is saying, no need to ruin their moment for now. She adjusts herself better on top of his body and slowly exhales, sensing how it reverberates on both of their bodies, as it would be from now on. It was done, she wouldn’t care looking at no other one.

[violettever]

OMG!!

okay let me tell you guys about my hajime headcanons! (i say ‘you guys’ as if anyone actually sees these posts LMAO)

but anyway, hajime.

after the simulation hajime wasn’t just magically himself. sure, somewhere in there hajime existed, but he couldn’t pull himself to the surface for months. we’re led to believe that hajime and izuru now share a body, right? but after having his emotions removed and his body enhanced he couldn’t force himself to feel for the longest time.

how do i put this.. hm… some people like to think that hajime now suffers from DID or that izuru is just gone but i think they physically share a body. hajime is more in control but izuru still exists in the mind. (izuru is originally more in control but as time progressed hajime gained more authority) so not exactly like DID more like two people in one. two for one sale, that’s a hell of an offer! (sorry bad joke) i feel like his body would be more like a vessel then a person, y’know? anyway when they wake up from the simulation his hair is still long, he’s wearing the suit, all that jazz. the others are pretty terrified at first, hajime isn’t like he was in the neo program at all. he’s silent, barely talks. his eyes are a dark red, his glare is deadly. even the future foundation is hesitant. but he shows no hostility, despite his horde glare he keeps calm. while izuru shows no signs of danger or violence, hajime does. mostly out of fear. i mean how would you feel if you were trapped inside a body, unable to surface, to feel or express anything. it’s difficult for anyone to decipher who is in control for the first few months, they both show no expression. izuru doesn’t feel like it and hajime physically can’t. the only indication they have that hajime is still there is if the body either harms itself or others.

occasionally, hajime would have these freak outs. he’d harm himself in many ways in order to feel something. izuru would put no work into stopping him even though future foundation begged. he said he found no use for it, that the others actions were meaningless. once hajime had walked out to the Hotel Restaurant where they usually meet in the mornings. the others say he looked deadly pale, his eyes opened wide, blankly staring forward. it was frightening. saying nothing, he sat down at the table, motionless. not wanting to interact too much with the man, they served him breakfast while the others chatted mindlessly, hoping to free up the tension in the air. that was until hajime picked up a knife and slammed it straight through into his hand, still staring at nothing, no indication of pain on his face. the others went silent in shock for a few moments before the room erupted in screaming. mikan was still in her pod, they had been relying on izurus nurse abilities but with him out of commission they were lost with what to do.

another time, he had collapsed on the walkway due to starvation. other times due to blood loss. in conclusion, hajime was incredibly unstable.

it took months for him to express properly. he had to completely relearn emotions and feelings. he lacked empathy and proper etiquette. they were worried he would never recover..

eventually that one eye turned green again and it felt like he could finally breathe. he had been watching everything from the back, as if he watching a movie of his own life play on the big screen. but now he was there. he was actually there, it wasn’t just izuru. after that, the outbursts started to slowly stop. he started working with the future foundation directly instead of giving instruction from the sidelines. people started to wake up. first mahiru, then hiyoko, then gundham, and so on..

the ones who were able were sent out to the fight monokumas in towa city. hajime, having a completely reconstructed body was obviously sent out first. actually let’s talk about that!

the izuru kamukura project wasn’t just a simple procedure. this was months of torture. his brain was picked apart and put back together. so we’re his legs, his arms, his feet, his hands.. all were reconstructed to be better then a regular humans abilities. he was stronger, faster, trained in hand to hand combat, his reflexes were enhanced. they tried everything. (a part of me wants to say he had like psychic abilities but i feel like that would be silly. they’re talented, not magical. although that would be super cool) they didn’t care about hajime hinata, they wanted to create something inhuman. a creature able to showcase true hope. their experiments were risky, inhumane. they hadn’t killed his pain tolerance until later in the procedures, he was forced to withstand it all. he desperately hung onto his hope of obtaining a talent, it was the only thing keeping him sane. how they didn’t end up kill him is a miracle. ah, but i suppose in a way they did. hajime was erased. they had gotten rid of any trace of what hajime hinata is, of who he was. it’s not like anyone knew him, and if they did they wouldn’t care. he was a reserve course student after all. many had died or gone missing, all was covered up. he didn’t have a talent, no friends, no job, and his parents were “taken care of” by the school. it was almost like hajime hinata hadn’t existed at all.

ahaha okay, i could rant more but this is getting too long. soo ima stop it here! i love hajimes character sm, i feel like everyone ignores his trauma and story. ESPECIALLY in fanfics omg. like i get it, nagito is fucked up BUT LIKE SO IS HAJIME??? if anything, they’re both fucking insane at this point. like there’s so much to work withhh! omg okay pause i might get hate for this but does anyone know zakikos work?? you probably know him from that limbless hajime meme thing that went around for a while. i hate to say it but his stories are SO FUCKING GOOD. PLUS THE ART STYLE?!! UGHH!!! ITS AMAZING. i don’t even read it for the porn, the ideas and angst this man creates are right up my alley. i’m such a fucking whore for angst istg. I STARTED RANTING AGAIN SHIT. OKAY IM DONE IM SORRY

[just-lexy]

Flatmates. Part 2.

to look for part 1 click in the tag Bey Flatmates and you should find it.

Last year (end of 2021 actually) I started this WIP and then never continued lol (story of my life). I finally decided to finish the second chapter because I have some time off and because it was about time. Not sure when and if you will get more though. But well.

What did you miss: Julia is an unexpected guest at Kai's house in Milan. Characters: Julia Fernandez, Kai Hiwatari Ships: Nope. Rating: I don’t understand rating. Characters are over 25yo so they speak and act accordingly. Notes: Bey Universe, post championships life. Julia slips a few Spanish words here and there

Kai Hiwatari knows how to laugh.

Kai’s “not being at home” much was an understatement. 

Julia hadn’t planned to find that out firsthand, but it looked like that trip was an infinite series of misadventures. When the morning after her arrival Julia went to work she thought she would have used the keys Kai had left on the counter for her just to recollect her stuff. 

Instead, her boss had been extremely rude, lecturing her in front of everybody about how unprofessional she had been calling her several times the night before. 

Claro, boss, it's worth risking freezing in the winter of Milan because the company wouldn’t cover the hotel expenses. 

Pride had surged into her, flaming and letting her act without thinking, boasting how she had found a solution already by herself. Ni de coña she would have asked for her help after that. 

So, she had tapped on Kai’s chat - easy to spot since he was the one without a profile picture, a sign of his inadequacy on social media, or the fact he still hadn’t saved her number - and told him she was gonna take on his offer. At that point, she wasn’t even surprised to receive a single “OK” in response.  

And that turned out to be their only interaction apart from the morning she found him in the kitchen, collecting some things before heading out, already dressed in an impeccably tailored anthracite suit, as if ready to be portrayed on the front cover of Forbes. After a simple “good morning” he took off and in the next four days, there had not been any other meeting.

To be fair, Julia herself had a different schedule every day according to the shows she was supposed to attend.

On the other hand, in the apartment, she had come to meet various members of the help. The petite and super-fast cleaning lady, the Spanish speaker gardener with whom she enjoyed a nice chat on the terrace overlooking the mix of red and grey roofs of Milan, and the plumber, who fixed her bathroom sink. 

Kai looked like a guest of his own house.

Friday was the day. The day Julia had been waiting for. The whole trip was supposed to be worth it just for that Friday. In the morning, her company had their most important show of Milan’s fashion week, since the designer had chosen their handmade accessories for their collection. And it had been everything Julia had imagined, even more, so that when she went back to the apartment in the early afternoon, she felt happy like Cinderella coming back from the ball.

But contrary to Cinderella she didn’t have any curfew to abide by, Julia had still another event to look forward to, the event for which she had been carrying around the precious clothes bag: Versace’s party. 

If she had been already determined to get the Milan gig, when the news of the Versace invitations started roaming around the office a few weeks prior, Julia had been even more focused. 

And finally, the day had come. Waking up from her nap and freshened up by a shower, Julia’s mind was well-rested and all over the moon when she heard the front door closing and steps getting into the living room. 

It took her a few seconds to recognize Kai’s voice, deeper than usual, the sounds he emitted were foreign, round, and dragged at the end of every sentence. Julia guessed he must have been speaking on the phone, maybe some work call to justify his sudden chatty mood. Then Kai started giggling. Kai’s giggling and laughing were even more foreign than the Japanese and Julia’s curiosity was immediately piqued. She had to see with her own eyes what was happening. 

Julia followed the voice and when she reached the kitchen, Kai was just closing the fridge. He turned, a smile still pursing his lips up while he acknowledged her presence and broke the magic spell. He turned serious once again, and Julia felt disappointed hearing him resume the conversation in a neutral tone, clearly pronouncing her name in the middle of the Japanese sentence. 

Julia felt ready to voice a question when Kai stepped closer, handing her his phone with a sigh. The screen lit up for a second showing the ongoing call with a name in Kanji followed by a kaomoji. 

Julia took the phone confused and followed with her gaze Kai who was retreating upstairs. 

“Hello?” She asked confused in the device, to be then flooded by Hiromi’s excited screams to which she answered with another excited scream, and so on. It was so nice to hear her friendly and warm voice after days of stress and loneliness. Because, yes, she was living the dream, but she was missing on the interpersonal side. 

“So, how is it going at Kai’s?”

“Chiqui, this place. Why didn’t you tell me Kai is such a rich motherfucker?”

Julia hung up the call when Hiromi declared it was time for her to get some sleep. With a smile lighting up her face, she recollected herself and pondered what to do with the phone in her hand. The screen had turned black. 

Was it worth it to break the self-imposed rule to not check the mysterious upstairs? She decided it wasn’t after she climbed a couple of steps and could hear the sound of a shower.

Nope, time to be the perfect guest and get ready for the evening. 

Julia was almost ready an hour later, the Versace dress fitting her like a glove. She couldn’t believe her luck the day she found it in the second-hand market in Madrid. Spring collection 2018, soon to become a classic. And she still couldn’t believe she was shortly going to be in the same room as the designer of that same dress. 

Looking at her reflection in the full mirror in the living room, she was still deciding how to style her hair when the noise of a door opening announced Kai’s figure descending the stairs. 

“Up or down?” Julia asked him out of habit, as she would have done with her brother or a boyfriend. Her hand kept up her hair for a few more seconds before letting them flow back on her shoulders to show the two different options. 

What was not a habit was getting a real response instead of the usual, safe, and boring: “You look beautiful either way”. 

Kai actually stopped on his track, in his hands a pair of boots and a jacket, and gave her a head-to-toe look.

“Down”, he concluded without any hint of irony. 

Julia’s head turned automatically towards the mirror giving the total look another scan and accepting that she looked better with her hair down.

Kai was heading again toward the kitchen and Julia followed: he had given her a piece of fashion advice, they were bound to form a bond now, verdad?

“Going out as well?” Julia inquired sitting at the kitchen island while he dived again into the fridge. 

Kai emerged with a puzzled look and a box full of sushi, but quickly regained his usual composure and answered with his usual monosyllable, “yes”. 

Julia’s brain rummaged for at least five topics of conversation - her specialty - and by the time she could land on one, Kai spoke. 

“Do you want some?”

Her answer was delayed because she was still too focused on her line of thinking. Then she eyed the sushi placed on the light marble. It was early for her to have dinner, at best it was time for a light snack. 

The dark gaze of the man seemed to deeply examine even her thoughts before he opened a drawer and picked up a fork and chopsticks. The scene was a bit daunting with the silence and the stares, but Julia couldn’t suppress a hint of relief learning he knew where to find cutlery in his own kitchen. She had been afraid the sole user was the cleaning lady but it looked like Kai had enough familiarity with the place to make Julia feel for the first time like she really was in the Hiwatari’s household. 

“You should eat,” Kai woke her up from her mental digressing, handing her the fork and a cloth napkin. He continued setting the space with two plates, and glasses and poured soy sauce into a small cup. “You’ll learn it’s better to not count on the catering at Fashion Week’s events.”

Being rendered speechless wasn’t a common feeling for Julia, so she just nodded and accepted the invitation. It didn’t last long though, her brain recovering quickly enough to start her questioning. Why did he consider her incapable of using chopsticks? How was he finding sushi in Italy? How did he end up living in Italy in the first place?

The conversation ran smoothly and pleasantly. They could chat easily, teasing each other amicably. Joder, that was good news. Somebody might have said that Hiromi was right. 

The sushi was almost finished when Julia placed down her chopstick - that she achieved with her salty comments - and finished the sparkling water in her glass. 

“You still haven’t told me where you are going tonight.”

“I thought you were more observant,” Kai challenged her with a raised eyebrow. Julia took it personally, took offense to it even - with an exaggerated hand gesture - but then tried to restore whatever she was missing. Kai smirked seeing her predicament and hinted to the chair next to him where he had placed the jacket he was carrying before.

Julia was already letting a sequence of Spanish insults out of her mouth but then she started to really see what he was trying to tell her.  

“You’re coming to the Versace party!” The jacket was black but it had a series of embroideries, golden details, and studs that just screamed the designer’s name. How could she have missed it? Her reputation was over, she was not cut out for her dream job. Shame on her, shame on her cow. 

“You figured it out eventually,” Kai spoke interrupting her interior drama and starting to put away the leftovers. He looked entertained, el traicionero.

“Why are you invited to this party?” She scoffed. 

“Because I am a rich motherfucker,” Kai quoted her comment, meant originally just for Hiromi’s ears. Julia was clearly descending slowly through different circles of hell, but couldn’t understand if he was seriously annoyed or just teasing. She didn’t know him that well and she was still his guest. 

“It was a compliment, I don’t have anything against your mother,” she blurted out panicking. 

Genial, as usual, her mouth was faster than her brain and now it looked like she couldn’t even understand basic English. 

Kai laughed it off rinsing the plates before placing them in the dishwasher. Vale, he wasn’t mad. 

“You better not, she is the sweetest.”

“I wonder how you came about then.”

He wasn't mad, yet.

But now it was two in a row, straight down to the bottom. Could have she learned from her first mistake? Yes. Did she though? Absolutely not. Could she walk out of this situation unscathed one more time? By Kai’s expression when he looked back at her, the answer was no. 

For a second she had hoped she could get a - surely fancy - ride with him to the party.

Well, she had just blown it. 

[erroticaz]

OMG!!

okay let me tell you guys about my hajime headcanons! (i say ‘you guys’ as if anyone actually sees these posts LMAO)

but anyway, hajime.

after the simulation hajime wasn't just magically himself. sure, somewhere in there hajime existed, but he couldn't pull himself to the surface for months. we're led to believe that hajime and izuru now share a body, right? but after having his emotions removed and his body enhanced he couldn't force himself to feel for the longest time.

how do i put this. hm... some people like to think that hajime now suffers from DID or that izuru is just gone but i think they physically share a body. hajime is more in control but izuru still exists in the mind. (izuru is originally more in control but as time progressed hajime gained more authority) so not exactly like DID more like two people in one. two for one sale, that's a hell of an offer! (sorry bad joke) i feel like his body would be more like a vessel then a person, y know? anyway when they wake up from the simulation his hair is still long, he's wearing the suit, all that jazz. the others are pretty terrified at first, hajime isn't like he was in the neo program at all. he's silent, barely talks. his eyes are a dark red, his glare is deadly. even the future foundation is hesitant. but he shows no hostility, despite his horde glare he keeps calm. while izuru shows no signs of danger or violence, hajime does. mostly out of fear. i mean how would you feel if you were trapped inside a body, unable to surface, to feel or express anything. it's difficult for anyone to decipher who is in control for the first few months, they both show no expression. izuru doesn't feel like it and hajime physically can't. the only indication they have that hajime is still there is if the body either harms itself or others.

occasionally, hajime would have these freak outs. he'd harm himself in many ways in order to feel something. izuru would put no work into stopping him even though future foundation begged. he said he found no use for it, that the others actions were meaningless. once hajime had walked out to the Hotel Restaurant where they usually meet in the mornings. the others say he looked deadly pale, his eyes opened wide, blankly staring forward. it was frightening. saying nothing, he sat down at the table, motionless. not wanting to interact too much with the man, they served him breakfast while the others chatted mindlessly, hoping to free up the tension in the air. that was until hajime picked up a knife and slammed it straight through into his hand, still staring at nothing, no indication of pain on his face. the others went silent in shock for a few moments before the room erupted in screaming. mikan was still in her pod, they had been relying on izurus nurse abilities but with him out of commission they were lost with what to do.

another time, he had collapsed on the walkway due to starvation. other times due to blood loss. in conclusion, hajime was incredibly unstable.

it took months for him to express properly. he had to completely relearn emotions and feelings. he lacked empathy and proper etiquette. they were worried he would never recover..

eventually that one eye turned green again and it felt like he could finally breathe. he had been watching everything from the back, as if he watching a movie of his own life play on the big screen. but now he was there. he was actually there, it wasn't just izuru. after that, the outbursts started to slowly stop. he started working with the future foundation directly instead of giving instruction from the sidelines. people started to wake up. first mahiru, then hiyoko, then gundham, and so on.

the ones who were able were sent out to the fight monokumas in towa city. hajime, having a completely reconstructed body was obviously sent out first. actually let's talk about that!

the izuru kamukura project wasn't just a simple procedure. this was months of torture. his brain was picked apart and put back together. so we're his legs, his arms, his feet, his hands.. all were reconstructed to be better then a regular humans abilities. he was stronger, faster, trained in hand to hand combat, his reflexes were enhanced. they tried everything. (a part of me wants to say he had like psychic abilities but i feel like that would be silly. they're talented, not magical. although that would be super cool) they didn't care about hajime hinata, they wanted to create something inhuman. a creature able to showcase true hope. their experiments were risky, inhumane. they hadn't killed his pain tolerance until later in the procedures, he was forced to withstand it all. he desperately hung onto his hope of obtaining a talent, it was the only thing keeping him sane. how they didn't end up killing him is a miracle. ah, but i suppose in a way they did. hajime was erased. they had gotten rid of any trace of what hajime hinata is, of who he was. it's not like anyone knew him, and if they did they wouldn't care. he was a reserve course student after all. many had died or gone missing, all was covered up. he didn't have a talent, no friends, no job, and his parents were "taken care of" by the school. it was almost like hajime hinata hadn't existed at all.

ahaha okay, i could rant more but this is getting too long. soo ima stop it here! i love hajimes character sm, i feel like everyone ignores his trauma and story. ESPECIALLY in fanfics omg. like i get it, nagito is fucked up BUT LIKE SO IS HAJIME??? if anything, they're both fucking insane at this point. like there's so much to work withhh! omg okay pause i might get hate for this but does anyone know zakikos work?? you probably know him from that limbless hajime meme thing that went around for a while. i hate to say it but his stories are SO FUCKING GOOD. PLUS THE ART STYLE?I! UGHH ITS AMAZING. i don't even read it for the porn, the ideas and angst this man creates are right up my alley. i'm such a fucking whore for angst istg. I STARTED RANTING AGAIN SHIT. OKAY IM DONE IM SORRY

[seerterror]

Canon A-90 facts you were never told about but I was

Trans man + He/Him.

Subspecies derived from Ambush's species - Probably explains why they were good childhood friends.

Security - He is a knight. At least he comes across as that. He wants to appear as noble and respectable as he can but he's actually very feral. Even moreso than the other two! His stop sign is his shield, his sword was custom made in secret before he ran away for the hotel.

His armor makes him the heaviest entity out of everybody (both rooms + doors) but he's actually underweight and is one of the lightest when he's not wearing it.

[BODY HORROR + BLOOD + KNIFE IN BOTH LINKS] He can do this! I go a lot more in depth here!

He... Is really bad at using his sword. He never learned how and his blades are more natural feeling to him but something something internalized pressure before going to the hotel weighing in + doing that forever before the sword but he'd still rather use the sword.

Inability to properly use the sword is why he deals less damage than the other two. It's usually when he's using the blades and claws when he gets someone in one shot.

His blood stains EVERYTHING and not even A-60 or Guiding Light can clean it. They hate it so much when he activates his bodily blades.

SOUNDS SOUNDS SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH THE SOUNDS. Biggest gripe with the movement is the sounds. Even if you hold still, make just the slightest noise or the wrong one you will be sliced. He has good hearing and hates it.

Cannot STAND the sound of ringing phones especially. People would text him but they're so taken aback by how he texts vs how he talks that they'd rather not. He replies with shit like "Howdy :3c" and they're like what is wrong with you.

Isn't as aggressive as A-60 but is way easier to piss off than A-120, he does often snap at people.

He's fairly neutral for the most part, the anger comes from the obnoxiousness of intruders and the fear they'll hurt Curious Light.

Sometimes. (Increasingly more often). When he's hungry, he will get more aggressive (but in a manic way, not anger). Full razors, cloudy mind, and a higher sensitivity to sounds follows through as he'll tear apart intruders limb by limb and feast on them right then and there.

He doesn't keep the bones though, he gives them to A-60.

Gets really jittery a lot and tends to struggle clearing his head.

He was the last Rooms entity to show up in the hotel before their banishment (you'll never guess where). A-60 and A-120 had made it there together a few weeks beforehand. He arrived there as a getaway from his expectations and to find cool stuff.

Found Curious Light wandering the Rooms after she got super duper lost and takes care of her until he can one day reunite her with her mom (Which they do eventually, and he's good friends with Guiding Light).

Carries a duffel bag everywhere that has a bunch of random junk collected off of intruders. He's somewhat attached to a lot of stuff in there.

Very introverted, struggles to express anger with words and starts speaking complete gibberish when aggravated, especially dealing with intruders or if A-60 is upsetting Curious Light. (H gagweek sihco hc lgc shcr ht nils64 nlxo)

Guiding Light, A-120, and Ambush are the only entities who can translate his gibberish.

Eyes show as just a dark void, but his irises become visible when experiencing any extreme emotion, pupils also being visible if it's that strong of a feeling. Depending on emotion, they change shape and size (e.g. goat-like when stressed/scared).

Blood/internal systems change colors from red-yellow-green depending on how he feels as well. His default color is actually yellow but he's never in a good enough mood to shine that or green. Therefore everyone assumes he's just normally red. Even though a few people have seen him yellow and one person has seen him green.

He's the reason there's so much gold and batteries in the Rooms, when he collects them from humans, he scatters them about so people get distracted and give him the chance to strike.

Collects skin conditions like pokemon cards he has eczema acne and that thing where you get spots on your torso after your body fights off a virus I FORGOT HOW TO SPELL IT but his entire body is pretty red/yellow/green depending on how he feels as previously mentioned.

Positive relationship with A-120 for the most part, finds A-60 annoying but puts up with her (Help I hate most A-90 ships)