#it was just me giving myself a little treat

[merakiui]

there is a knock at your door.

yandere!jade leech x (gender neutral) reader x yandere!floyd leech cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, kidnapping note - will you open it? // a birthday gift for the lovely and amazing @fish-brain-go-brrrr!!!!!!! may your special day be filled with eels, tako, and boundless happiness. (´▽`ʃƪ)♡ thank you for being a wonderful friend!! have the best birthday and enjoy this little gift hehe!!!! 🎉

Knock, knock. 

The door opens to reveal your friend since forever: Azul Ashengrotto.

And, more importantly, his Alaskan Malamute, who bounds over in quick clicks to greet you. You laugh as she all but pushes past Azul’s legs in an effort to reach your outstretched arms.

“Well, excuse you!” Azul laughs. She slobbers all over your face in her form of affectionate greeting before pulling away to sniff curiously at your suitcase. “Someone’s excited to see you.”

“I haven’t even gotten through the door,” you remark in between giggles.

“Okay, Pepper, that’s enough.” Azul clicks his tongue and she parts from you (not before delivering one final lick to your cheek. He smiles and pats her affectionately. “Good girl.”

Despite Pepper’s impressive size, she’s nothing but a softie. A gentle giant, some would describe her. You remember when she was just a puppy, small enough to be cradled in Azul’s arms like a human baby. How she’s grown!

“If you’d come this way, you can put your stuff down.” Azul shuffles aside to allow you to step fully into the foyer of his smartly-furnished home. “I’m sure you’re already familiar with everything, but it won’t hurt to reiterate.”

���Please do. It’s been a while since I’ve been at your place. Doesn’t seem like anything’s changed, though.”

He hums and shuts the door behind you. It locks smoothly. You trail after Azul, wheeling your suitcase down the hall and into the sitting room. Pepper bounds after the both of you and makes herself comfortable on a fluffy dog bed.

“Pepper’s feeding schedule hasn’t changed. Although I did switch to a different brand of dry food. This one is much better. Vet’s orders and all that. And every month I have a chef come in to prepare her a special, nutritionally balanced meal with only the freshest ingredients.”

“Wow! Isn’t she spoiled?” you tease in an exaggerated baby voice.

“I take care of my things,” he replies simply, shrugging your playful remark off, “and Pepper deserves only the finest.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.”

As if having realized she’s the subject of conversation, Pepper barks.

Azul leads you through the house into the kitchen. It looks different from the last time you saw it and you realize he must have had it redone. Every appliance is brand-new, winking back at you when you peek into each gleaming surface.

Sleek, you think, admiring the wall oven. 

“Pepper gets one cup of dry food twice every day. Once in the morning and once at night. On Fridays, I give her a can of wet food as a treat. She can have that whenever you think is best. I usually do it around late morning, early afternoon.”

“Dry food twice each day. Wet food Friday. Got it.”

He opens a small door to a cupboard packed neatly with cans and containers. “This is where I keep her food. This bigger door is for human food. The wonderful pantry.” He knocks on it playfully.

Knock, knock.

You attempt a poor joke. “So it’s not just all dog food?”

“I have to feed myself,” he says, dramatically aghast. “I’m not a dog.”

“You sure about that?”

Azul barks out a chuckle. His mouth quirks up in an amused half-grin. “I’m sorry to disappoint. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve stocked this one full of everything indicated in the preferences you sent me.”

“So that’s why you asked me for that list! I just thought you wanted food recs.”

“That, too. You have unique tastes.”

“Microwave and canned meals are always there for me in my darkest hours.”

He hums. “Well, I’ve made sure to get each of your human favorites, so you needn’t feen for those too much.”

There’s a razored edge to his remark that makes you shrivel inside. As if your appetite is cheap in some way, more like a dog’s than a person’s.

But this is his house and it’s his money. You wouldn’t put it past him to factor in the pay cut for unnecessary sass. So you simply bare your teeth in a smile and take the punch, whether it was intended for you or not. Sometimes you forget he’s supposed to be your friend. 

“You’re welcome to use the kitchen. The whole house is your oyster, really,” he continues, guiding you towards the back door. It’s then when you notice the little black camera positioned in the corner of the room, its red eye peering soundlessly back at you. You wonder if that’s a new addition—the dog cameras. You can’t remember if they were there the last summer you were here. “Pepper has a tendency to stay out longer than she needs to after she’s done her business. She’ll come to the door once she’s had her fill, so there’s no need to fret. Although I’m sure she’ll listen to you. She’s quite obvious in her favoritism…”

You laugh but not because it’s funny. Because it’ll hopefully land you within his good graces, which is patently absurd if he’s meant to be your friend. You’re not even sure you can call these favors friendship when they’re transactional. If anything, you’re friendlier with Pepper than you are with Azul.

Am I really closer with a dog than a human? you think as he opens the door for you to view the fenced-in yard. You watch Azul gesture, his lips moving with his words. Actually, maybe Azul’s the dog.

Doubtful, but that doesn’t make the imagery any less comedic.

“I’ll be back next Monday. If you need anything or have any questions, you have my number. Oh, but just in case I’ve written the schedule for you and pasted it on the fridge should you forget.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

At that, he smiles sincerely. “Thank you. I really do appreciate this, considering everything was such short notice.”

“Nah, don’t worry. We’re friends. Plus, Pepper loves me.”

He chuckles. “I suppose that’s more than enough of a bonus. Speaking of which, how much would you like to be paid?”

“However much you’d like to give me,” you blurt and immediately regret it.

“I researched the average pay for dog-sitters, but there were just so many conflicting opinions and variables. So what do you think would be best? Please don’t sell yourself short on account of my asking. I’m always willing to give you more for your services.”

Taking a pause, you contemplate his words. If you factor in the grocery trip he made on your behalf and his letting you stay for the week alongside the tasks you’ll be completing for Pepper…

You open your mouth to suggest four-hundred madol, but he beats you to it—and with a completely different amount.

“Does three-hundred suffice?”

“Sure. No, yes. Yeah, that works.” You smile, but you aren’t very pleased.

“Wonderful! If you ever find yourself thinking you might need more, please do tell me. I want to make sure you’re paid accordingly. Good work deserves equally good acknowledgement, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod. If you know anything about Azul, it’s that he’s always willing to work with you when it comes to finances. He’s a businessman, so of course he’d know how to flawlessly navigate these types of situations. And having built himself a career and life on hard work, he has the confidence to throw numbers around and see which one sticks.

Briefly, as you follow him to the front door, you try to imagine yourself in his shoes—a businessperson who dresses smart every day, who never has to worry about money, who doesn’t have to be silently amazed by shiny appliances and refurbished kitchens.

And then you wonder if Azul is in the market for a spouse, but that idea is swiftly stamped out when you realize how silly it sounds.

He props his suitcase against the wall and bends down to welcome Pepper, who can easily match his height, into his arms. She licks at his face, sniffing the cologne spritzed on his suit, and he doesn’t seem to fuss over the hair.

“I’ll see you in a week. Be good to (Name) while I’m gone.”

Upon hearing your name, she whips her head up to look at you.

“She’s always good no matter what,” you vouch, reaching to scratch behind her ears. Her tail wags wildly. “The best girl.”

“I’m glad.” Azul pulls away. He plucks a lint roller from the side pouch in his backpack and casually brushes down his front. “I trust you’ll be fine in my absence? Do feel free to sleep wherever—whether on the sofa or in the guest bedroom upstairs. The sheets were just washed and the room is clean. Mine is as well, but I suppose it may be awkward to offer it.” He coughs into his fist. “Regardless, whichever space you find most comfortable, consider it yours for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you for everything, Azul.” You hold the door for him as he drags his suitcase over the threshold, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Have a safe flight.”

Pepper joins you at the door to watch. You wave to him while he lifts his belongings into the trunk of his car, and then within mere minutes he’s pulling away and driving out of sight.

“And that’s that,” you announce, ducking back inside with Pepper. You shut the door and lock it. Surveying the sitting room, your hands situated on your hips, you wonder what you should do now. She peers up at you, just as expectant. 

The first thing you decide to do is peruse the pantry and the fridge. All of your favorites are arranged within. It’s actually too much, you realize, now unable to settle on a single option for dinner.

So instead you swipe the money Azul’s left for you on the counter—in case of emergencies, the note reads—and decide that this predicament is dire enough for pizza.

Knock, knock.

You pop up from the sofa and trot over to open the front door. Pepper gets there before you, barking loudly at the person on the other side. Gently, you shush her and peek out through the small crack to greet the driver. They smile and hand over your food. Rushing through the process, you give them the amount owed.

The door shuts and locks with a click.

“You’re babysitting for the same rich guy? You’d think he’d give you a raise or something since you do it so often,” Ace mutters into the phone.

“Yeah, well, it’s only a week.”

“Still a week’s worth of work. Why do you even feel bad? Ask for more. He said he’d give it to you, didn’t he?”

“I dunno… I mean, we already agreed on an amount and I don’t wanna seem like a greedy asshole—”

“(Name), he’s rich. They’re all greedy assholes. If he has the money to spoil his dog with monthly fancy feasts,” he says, putting on a posh accent, “then he has the money to pay you what you deserve. If you want, I could always say something. J-Just because you’re too chicken and all, I mean! Sometimes you need superstar Ace to step in. No need to thank me. I know I’m great.”

Propping your feet on the armrest at the end of the loveseat, you roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“Case in point! So you should totally ask him for more. Wring him out like a money rag.”

“We’ll see… He did buy a bunch of food for me and he’s letting me stay. He even left money for emergencies.”

“You used it, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m not stupid.”

Ace laughs. “So you’re alone then?”

“The dog’s here, too. You wanna say hi?” You tap your phone. “Okay, you’re on speaker. Pepper, you wanna meet my friend?”

“What’s up, Pepper!”

She lifts her head from where she’s resting on her cushion, her ears raised curiously. Her only response is a soft huff.

“She says hi.”

“You sure you’re not putting words in her mouth?”

“Surprised you couldn’t understand her, you dog.”

“Hey!”

Grinning, you pick at a loose string on your sweater. Azul’s house is always so cold. “But, yes, it’s just the dog and me. Why?”

Ace is quiet for an uncharacteristic beat. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Dunno. Just figured you might want some company. I could come over.”

You understand the implication coyly woven into his words. “I’d say yeah—”

“Really?!”

“But he’s got cameras. For the dog, I think.”

“So just cover them up?”

“Wow, great suggestion. How long did it take you to think of that one, brainiac?”

“I’m just saying… He’s away on a business thing, right? How much time is he gonna have to watch the cameras?”

“If he’s neurotic enough, he’ll find time.”

“He shouldn’t be if he trusts you to look after the house.”

“He also trusts how easy it’ll be to connect the dots if something goes missing from his house.”

“It’s not criminal to have a guest over! Geez. You make it sound so illegal…”

“Tough luck. If you really wanna hang out, we can just get lunch next time I’m—”

Knock, knock.

You sit up slightly on the sofa, brows furrowed. Is someone at the door? At this hour? You’re certain Azul isn’t expecting anyone, and the mail isn’t due to come until tomorrow morning. You glance at Pepper. Her eyes are closed, but her ears are raised, listening.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Hold that thought. I think someone’s at the door.”

You manage to catch the very end of Ace’s don’t-get-murdered warning just before you set your phone down. Azul’s door has a panel of frosted glass, so even if you wanted to discern the person’s features on the other end you’d have to open it for confirmation. All you can go off of are shadows.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open and poke your head outside. The crisp air hits you like a slap.

No one’s there.

You check around in case someone dropped something off, but there’s nothing in sight. Nothing on the stoop. No mail to collect.

Did someone have the wrong house? you think, trying to picture the scenario in your mind. Or maybe some dumb kids are pranking me. 

Now irritated, you shut the door in a huff.

It’s summer. Don’t they have anything better to do?

Maybe it’s precisely because it’s summer that they don’t.

You choose to brush this annoyance aside in favor of picking up your phone to return to the conversation.

“Sorry about that. I’m back.”

“Everything good?”

“Yeah. No, yeah. All good here. Just some kids thinking they’re funny.”

“Yeaaah, no surprises there.”

“You’d think they’d stay away. Azul’s probably got enough money to sue them for disturbing the peace or some other stuffy nonsense and win.”

“They’re kids. They’re not gonna know any better.”

“Says the public menace.”

“I’m not that bad! Cut me some slack. I’ll have you know, I’ve matured significantly since my school days and I am very much a changed man.”

“Yeah, oookay.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure, Mr. Mature. Anyway, it’s late. I should let Pepper out and get to bed.”

“You sure you don’t want me to sing you to sleep?” he teases.

“I actually value my sense of hearing, so no. Thanks, though.”

Before he can retort, you bid him sweet dreams and hang up. Gazing at the camera positioned in the corner, you rise to your feet.

The cameras are definitely new.

“Pepper, sweetheart, you wanna go outside?”

She seems to have understood that last part, for she scrambles out of her bed and pads over to the back door with a swaying tail. You open the door for her, and she rushes past you in a blur of fur.

Good. She’ll get one last run and bathroom break in before bed and hopefully we’ll be fine until morning.

Like a wine stain on a white shirt, your eyes are drawn to the camera once more. You can understand having cameras outside the property, but inside the house feels���unusual. But then you’ve never had a dog of your own and you’ve always lived in apartments on the highest floor, so maybe this is what most dog owners do when they need to monitor an overactive animal.

Maybe they’re those cameras that you can speak through! If that’s the case, then I can totally see him talking to Pepper or scolding her if she’s up to no good. Okay, that makes a little more sense now.

Another reason hits you, and you feel foolish for not realizing it first: For safety and security’s sake, too. Of course.

Your phone buzzes then and you pull it from your pocket to read the message. Ace has sent you something stupid on Magicam, no doubt. You’re about to open it and confirm when—

Knock, knock.

An admonishment on the tip of your tongue, you storm through the hall towards the front door. You throw it open this time, and like before you find empty space.

“Not funny,” you seethe, stepping out into the cold night to peer through the neat hedges and flower bushes. Surely those kids are hiding somewhere… “It’s late. Go home already!”

You don’t receive a reply. For a moment, you wait in anticipation. Wherever they’re hiding, they’ll have to get up and retreat eventually. It’s oddly quiet. You strain to listen for any giggles or whispers.

Nothing but suffocating silence.

And then Pepper barks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You shut the door slowly, watching the outside slim down until eventually all you see is your warped reflection in the frosted glass.

Weird…

Again, Pepper barks.

“I’m coming! Wait just a moment, Pepper!”

You lock the door and scurry to let her in. 

Come tomorrow, those kids won’t be able to hide in the daylight, you tell yourself as you brush your teeth. And when I catch them, I’ll make sure to give them a talk on why it’s not nice to bother other people, especially at night when it’s dark out. It’s just unsafe for kids to be out late anyway!

When you settle into bed, you realize the house is perfectly still and silent. Pepper is snoozing comfortably on Azul’s bed. You never realized it, but Azul’s house seems bigger at night. More rooms. More space. Lots of shadows. A creak every now and then as everything settles. It’s in between sleep that you begin to wonder if you locked the door.

It’s fine. I’ve got Pepper to keep me safe.

Comforted with this knowledge, you fall asleep.

Knock, knock.

There is a knock at your door.

You jerk awake and, rather clumsily, feel around in the bed for your phone. It flashes the time back at you. The rest of the world comes trickling in through dull, still-sleepy senses. You finally register Pepper’s bark, which is beginning to sound more like an alarm with how relentless it is.

“Shit. It’s already afternoon?” And then you sit up. “Shit! It’s already afternoon!”

You rush down the stairs, apologizing profusely to Pepper with each step. She’s waiting for you at the very bottom, pacing in circles and barking at you.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I completely slept in. You must have to go really bad.”

She races you to the door and you yank it open in your haste, heaving a relieved breath when she bursts outside. You lean against the doorframe for support and bask in the sunshine that spills in.

The weather’s beautiful today. I can’t believe they were saying it might rain.

While Pepper runs laps outside, you busy yourself with filling Pepper’s bowls with the recommended amount of dry food and then fresh water. Her shadow appears against the door a few minutes later and so you let her in.

“Just in time,” you praise, watching as she trots eagerly over to her bowl.

With that out of the way, you begin preparing a very late breakfast for yourself. You can’t remember when the dishes from before were cleaned. Did you do them last night before bed?

“Doesn’t really matter,” you murmur, slicing fruit for a salad. “One less thing I have to do. Thank you, (Name) from the past.”

You skim through the notes Azul’s pasted to the bulletin board. Instructions for Pepper’s feeding schedule, reminders, times and dates. But then there are also things he’s left for himself. A calendar with important events marked. Various notes for miscellaneous things: Bring suit in for cleaning. Meet with dietician at the end of the month. Celebrate colleague’s birthday. These tiny slivers of his life remind you that Azul is a busy person like you. When you look at the stars he’s doodled around dates of particular importance, you feel yourself smiling. He’s not such an intimidating figure when you look at him through his calendar.

A text from Ace coaxes you out of your thoughts: u still on for tonight?

Tonight? But then you remember. Oh, fuck! Deuce’s birthday! I forgot we planned the surprise for today.

hell yeah!!! is your enthusiastic reply.

Later, while you’re getting ready for the evening, you think you hear someone knocking. But the running water drowns out all sounds from downstairs. If Pepper isn’t barking, it’s likely nothing.

You leave the house somewhat frazzled, hoping to shake off the strange suspicion that something isn’t right.

The biggest surprise, aside from jumping out to shock Deuce when he walked into the restaurant on account of thinking it a date—yes, you and Ace catfished him for this very cruel, irreverent birthday joke—is perhaps the text you receive from Azul.

Is it raining? Did Pepper track mud in the house?

You read it three more times and then you peek outside the window. It’s been raining ever since you arrived. So much for perfect weather… But Pepper couldn’t have gotten into any mud because the ground was dry earlier today.

No?? you write back, confusion bubbling in your chest. I haven’t sent her out since this morning when it was sunny. It’s raining now, but she hasn’t been out at all.

Horrified, you begin to wonder if you somehow spilled something during breakfast. Or did Pepper have an accident in the house? Did she get into something? A million questions headline your thoughts, overwhelming in their intensity. Thankfully, it’s Ace and Deuce who bring you back to the present.

“Ace told me you’re doing that house-sitting gig for that guy again.”

“Oh, yeah! I am. Dog-sitting, too.” You stuff your phone away.

Best not to think about it.

“Didja catch those kids?”

Deuce looks between you and Ace, a brow raised. “What kids?”

“You totally missed it! I guess some kids were knocking on (Name)’s door all night long.”

“They’re still doing it. I think…”

“No way!”

“Sooner or later, it becomes less annoying and more like harassment.” Deuce cringes. “And you haven’t caught them yet?”

“No. Or… Well, I thought I heard some knocking this morning. But I was still asleep and the dog was barking.”

“This guy has cameras, doesn’t he?” Ace looks to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I have access to them.”

“Maybe that’ll drive whoever’s bothering you away. If they see the cameras, they’ll realize they’re being recorded and hopefully leave you alone.”

“Hopefully.”

“I offered to come over.”

“It’s not that serious.”

Ace and Deuce share a look of doubt.

“Really! It’s not, guys. All they’re doing is knocking on the door. Irritating as hell? Yes. But it’s all harmless. They’re outside. I’m inside. Plus, I’ve got Azul’s dog. She’s huge.”

“Just…keep yourself safe. Call one of us if you need to. We’ll come over,” Deuce says, poking around at the food on his plate.

“I will. Thank you. But let’s not worry about any of that. It’s your birthday! It’s supposed to be all about you.”

Somehow the unsettling atmosphere ebbs away, replaced with the joyous delusions of short-lived celebration.

You return to Azul’s house to find muddy pawprints on the floor. It takes you thirty minutes to scrub the floors clean, and for the entire time you’re racking your brain trying to understand how this happened. Was there mud in the backyard that you just weren’t aware of? Or did Pepper truly go outside when it was raining? Did you leave the door unlocked?

Surely Azul must have seen what happened on the cameras.

Something isn’t adding up. You spend your entire shower constructing the scene and its many possibilities, but none of them make a lick of sense.

It’s just you and Pepper, right?

As you toss and turn in bed, struggling to relax under a duvet that feels too itchy and hot, you think you hear someone knocking on the door.

Or maybe it’s the window. Maybe it’s right below you, tapping at the ceiling, pacing around in the kitchen, reaching to pet Pepper.

Maybe you’re just dreaming.

Azul calls you on the seventh day to check in. You consider telling him about the knocking, the dishes, that rainy day when Pepper tracked in mud, but you can’t seem to form the words without sounding utterly insane. So you smile and lie.

“No issues here. Pepper’s been wonderful.”

Azul hums, pleased. “Aah, I miss her something fierce. Oh, can you tell her I said that?”

You repeat his words to Pepper. “I dunno… I think she’s starting to like me more than you.”

“Well, isn’t that a problem? How else will she get her fix of you once you’re gone?”

“I’ll be back next time you need me.” And then you hesitate. “You…will need me again, right?”

“Of course. I always need you, (Name).”

There’s an awkward pause on his end. He clears his throat, but you don’t add anything to break the tension.

“Um, right. Yeah… Enjoy the rest of your business trip. I hope all is well with…that.”

“It is, yes. Thank you.”

“Then I won’t keep you.”

You end the call before he can say anything else. Pepper, who had been resting beside you on the sofa, tilts her head at you.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” you whisper, “but your owner is really bad at words sometimes.”

She leans in and licks your cheek.

Someone knocks on the door and lies in wait. You watch with bated breath, repeating the same phrase over and over: “Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door.”

Knock, knock.

She reaches for the knob.

“No… Come on. Don’t do it. It’s so clearly a trap!” You almost don’t want to watch. You know she’s as good as dead as soon as she opens the door, for the killer will descend and drag her back inside her own house.

Knock, knock.

She’s already opened the door. As expected, the killer pounces like the Grim Reaper and she shrieks like a banshee.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

Remote in hand, you lower the volume and focus on the silence that creeps in shortly after. You wait for a creak or another knock—a disturbance of some sort.

Slowly, you turn to glance at the door and then at the windows nearby with the curtains drawn. As quietly as you can manage, you set the remote down and slither off of the sofa. Pepper doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds, but you can tell she’s listening, her body tense.

No one’s out there. It’s nothing. 

You peel the curtains back ever so slightly and peek out at the darkness. There’s no one on the stoop. No one at the window. No one.

So then where was the knocking coming from? Was it really just the movie?

Or… No, certainly not. You refuse to entertain that thought.

But, if not the movie and not from outside, where else could the sound be coming from? Where else if not from within these very walls?

You shut the curtains and return to the sofa. Horror is swapped for a cheesy rom-com. You need the laughter and the cringe and every fluffy thing in between to calm the electricity in your nerves.

And it works. You fall asleep by the third rom-com, listening to cheesy one-liners and bad jokes with terribly written punchlines.

Knock, knock.

And then a noisy clatter.

You’re shaken from your slumber in a daze. You’re not sure what time it is or where you even are, and it takes a moment for clarity to filter in through the grogginess. You’re wrapped up in blankets on the bed in the guest room in Azul’s house and there’s someone standing at the foot of the bed, watching you in the gloom, and—

Wait.

How did you get to bed? Most importantly, what’s that blinking back at you? It can’t be Pepper. Pepper doesn’t have two-toned eyes. Pepper can’t stand on two legs. You squint through the shadows to pick out the shape of them, and your blood freezes when you realize it’s a person.  

A person. A person.

Someone’s inside the house and they’re looking right at you.

Do they know I’m awake? you think, your thoughts racing wildly. You lie there, rigid as a board and stiff as a corpse, and hope that they can’t tell. Calm down. Relax. Pepper will scare them off.

But then you notice she hasn’t barked a single time since you opened your eyes. Is she sleeping?

Terror pierces your heart. Did this person hurt her? Is she—

Don’t think about that.

Your eyes slide over towards the doorway, and you just about scream when you see another figure. The breath sticks in your throat. You know it’s another person because the way they lean so casually against the doorframe suggests a certain nonchalance with this situation. A nonchalance that can only belong to a person.

“Knock, knock. Aww. Did we wake you up?” It’s a man’s whispery drawl that combs through the room, raking through your scalp with sharp fingers, prodding at your ears like a hornet. “You looked so peaceful, too. Sorry about that.”

You’re not sure what you should do. Should you even try to run or escape when you’re already so cornered? Is there enough time to call for help? Will Pepper hear you if you shout? Should you play dead or feign sleep? What should you do?

What can you do?

You glance at the other figure. Unlike the other one, who sways and fidgets like he’s caught in a perpetual, invisible breeze, this person is perfectly, eerily still. Almost like a doll.

But then the man in the doorway laughs. “Layin’ it on thick there, ain’tcha? They’re already shakin’ like a leaf. No need to overdo it.”

A razored smile cuts through the gloom. Your eyesight adjusts enough to catch sight of a J-shaped strand of hair and the glint of an earring.

“No need to look so scared,” he continues, but you can’t pry your eyes from the other’s smile. It’s a smile of grotesque pleasure—one that feasts on fear so palpable it might as well be a three-course meal for him. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Then will you do something much worse? you want to ask, but all you can do is blink.

“Just gonna take you somewhere nice and cozy. Nothin’ scary about that. Ain’t that right, Jade?”

“Indeed, Floyd.” A voice as smooth and soft as melted caramel. Maybe it would’ve been soothing in a different situation. 

Before you can scream or lunge out of bed, arms are reaching out to restrain you. A hand slaps over your mouth. Fingers curl into your arms. A sickly sweet rag is stuffed against your nose.

Your feet kick against the wall, a steady knock-knock-knocking like a heartbeat, until your muscles still and the fight is drained from you. Unconsciousness blankets your body and mind within minutes.

There is nothing more unnerving than returning to an empty house, especially when it was once filled with human presence. No one knows anything, but they could’ve if there was evidence. Incriminating footage is no good.

Azul certainly thinks so while he dons his finest suit and practices a few expressions in the mirror. Pepper watches him from where she lays curled on his bed.

“A hero must look exceptional when he rescues his dearest one. Most of all, he must be innocent and trustworthy. Wouldn’t you say so, Pepper?”

At that, she can only offer a halfhearted whimper. He smiles.

“Let’s go visit my (Name).”

[ylangelegy]

is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell. 

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you. 

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.” 

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily. 

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you. 

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument. 

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter. 

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.” 

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in. 

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—” 

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong. 

You break away from him. 

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?” 

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue. 

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that. 

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after. 

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff. 

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved. 

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night. 

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer�� press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears. 

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely. 

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin. 

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face. 

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt. 

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low. 

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall. 

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets. 

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—" 

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to. 

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him. 

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear. 

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication. 

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there. 

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command. 

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back. 

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes. 

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately. 

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—” 

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts. 

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his. 

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words. 

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing. 

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little. 

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous. 

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.” 

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure. 

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you. 

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them. 

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane. 

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp. 

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you. 

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this. 

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems. 

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow. 

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night. 

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung." 

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol. 

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. 

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

 "You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone. 

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one. 

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[gingerteawrites]

"I wanna be yours" - Gojo Satoru

A/N: Fellas, I have returned! Been wanting to post more often, so I'll try actually making a schedule for myself. Anyways, enjoy :)

Content: JJK sorcerer!reader, kind of canon, Gojo x reader, mostly fluff, teeny weeny angst

Gojo Satoru had always gotten everything he wanted in life. Many called him spoiled, but being a prodigy came with its perks. No one ever dared to stand in the way. And those who did never stood for long anyway.

So from the moment you were transferred to Jujutsu High and his crystal eyes laid on you, he knew he wanted you. He marveled at the way you treated your students and fellow staff members. The sweetness of your smile haunted his dreams. He had made up his mind, and nothing could get in the way.

Except you. You got in the way.

"Hey, sweetheart? Wanna grab desserts after classes are done today?" He asks, leaning against your desk as you finish grading your students' tests.

"Sorry Gojo," you look up from your paperwork, adjusting your frames on your nose. "I've got to finish up some lesson plans."

He sulked openly, lips pursed as he lifted his blindfold. Frustration gnawed at his insides. He'd been trying to go out with you one-on-one for months now. But you always found a way to turn him down.

"Can't spare me a little time?" He drew closer. You could feel the cursed energy radiate off of him. Even when he wasn't trying, the Strongest's aura was something that could not be ignored.

"Next time, okay?" Your eyes returned to your papers, and he sighed in defeat.

There was never a "next time".

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Kyoto sister-school exchange event had just concluded. Cursed energy flowed through you while you worked on healing the injured students. "Thank you ___-san." Itadori beamed at you, the worn out skin around his knuckles slowly repairing.

"You're welcome Yuuji-kun." You returned the smile, standing up to move towards Shoko who had just finished patching up Maki.

The students, fully healed started to part ways. You made sure everyone was set and after a small debrief with Yaga on the special grades' attacks, you walked outside the main building.

"Is Gojo still meeting with the higher-ups? I can't believe they managed to attack us here." You mused, sitting on one of the benches outside the classrooms with Shoko.

She took a long draw from her cigarette and lazily turned towards you.

"I promise you he would appear right this second if he could." Her smoky voice danced in the afternoon breeze. "Couldn't resist you being here." She spoke as if it was fact.

You shook your head to yourself, looking down at your lap with a chuckle. "Pfft, he's just flirty Ieiri. I don't think too much of it." The idea of having Satoru's attention was not unpleasant. His presence always made your heart beat a little faster, after all. But you would never give yourself false hopes. He could have anyone he wanted, and the prospect was more than enough to make you want to keep your distance.

Shoko just shook her head, the cloud of smoke hanging around her parting when she stood. "If thinking that is what helps you sleep at night," she waved with a turn "I'll see you."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Too many things had happened. Getting attacked by multiple special grades, half of the school destroyed, the kids hurt. The balance of the Jujutsu society felt like a wreck and you knew that October 31st spelt even more trouble.

You sat in one of your empty classrooms, head on the desk with your eyes fixed outside the window. You had to prepare for Shibuya. A deep sense of anxiety gnawed at your insides, causing you to close your eyes in hope of some respite.

However, the sound of doors sliding open prompted them open, turning your head to identify the intruder. There stood Gojo with his blindfold off, a rare occurrence.

"Hello, sweetheart." He approached your desk, pulling a chair to sit beside you.

"Hi, Gojo." You replied, tired voice barely carrying through the room. His azure eyes traced your features.

His hand slowly coming up to brush against your cheek. And you didn't pull away. The soothing touch was oh so welcome. It drew you out of the anxious hole your mind was digging.

"Before we go out there." He paused, voice uncharacteristically soft. Smooth. Not putting on a show, but deeply honest. "Before the fighting starts... I need to be sure."

"Sure of what?" You couldn't help but lean into his touch. He chuckled, almost humorlessly.

"I've been trying. In not so subtle ways." He spoke quietly. "I just want to hear you say it. That you truly don't want me."

Your eyes widened, body stilling. The wind blew in through the window, the chill of the outside filling the room.

"Satoru... I..." Your mouth gaped, in a desperate search for words.

"I wanna be yours." He assured, thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Even if it's the last thing I do." He took in a deep breath, drawing closer so that there were only a few inches left between you. "Will you let me?"

Your thoughts melded together into a hazy mush, breath taken away by his words. By his closeness. You weren't sure you could formulate the correct words. To express how much you wanted it too. How much you wanted to be his. How much you reveled in his closeness, despite the parts of your mind that screamed that it was hopeless. That he was too good for you. That this could end too soon for either of you.

So you pushed all thoughts away and acted on instinct. You closed the gap, plush lips meeting his in a tender embrace. Your hand rested along his jaw, pulling him closer and he responded to your invitation, gently slipping a hand around your neck. Your lips moved in a soft tango, rhythm dictated by your frantic hearts. Kissing until your lips were tinted red with passion.

You finally parted and rested your foreheads against each other, and Gojo let out a chuckle, a quiet thing, teeming with joy.

"That was the first time you've called me Satoru."

You smiled. "I want to be yours too, Satoru," he pressed a tender kiss on your cheek, his lips pulled into a wide smile.

The future had never seemed more uncertain, and the balance of the jujutsu world barely hung on by a thread. But in that moment all Gojo could feel was unbridled joy.

"Thank you, my love."

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[0ceanic-cosm0s]

To the Hellfire - chapter 3

[Josh Washington x F! Reader]

5.6k words

masterlist - two - three - four

Chapter wrote by @sharkology & @xghostcr0wx

⚠️chapter warnings⚠️

[smut, non-con drugging, angst] MDNI

(smut warnings under the cut)

🔞smut warnings🔞

[switch! josh (mostly dom josh), reader says good boy like once, afab reader, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), josh is kinda gross (in a hot way), choking, oral fixation, squirting, cumming inside, teasing and taunting, manhandling]

You were right on his trail as he left, his footsteps heavy and loud with frustration and anger. Your timid steps followed behind. You both walked in silence (him mostly just stomping) until he reached the door to his room in the lodge. He stops for a second, looking at you with a glare. You’ve never seen him get so riled up.

“Enjoy the little show?” He mumbled, turning back to the door and opening it-quickly heading in and sitting on his bed with a loud sigh.

You felt a pang of hurt as he treated you a little harshly, but you understood his tone and why he was acting this way; the whole ouija board was a dumb decision in the first place. It was probably embarrassing to him that you had to see him like that. You enter slowly, shutting the door. You keep the main room light off and walk over to the lamp on his bedside table to turn on the dim light, before sitting next to him and giving him enough space for his comfort.

“Josh..I understand why you’re upset. But, you don’t need to act like this towards me. I’m here to help you. Not to get this cold behavior.” He looks over at you, his face contorted with anger and confusion. But it gradually fades as he lets your words sink in. He looks more like he’s just regretful and sad now at how he was being towards you.

He groans, looking away as he rubs his head anxiously. “I know I know, I’m..I’m sorry [Y/n], I just…I feel like I was getting messed with, ya know? Like..I know how much we love playing tricks on each other, but this feels a little overkill..”

“Yeah, you're right. It doesn't really matter anyway. I'm over it.” Josh deflects but you can clearly tell that it's quite the opposite.

You listen to his words, nodding along. “I don’t think they were messing with you, Josh. Especially knowing how sensitive the topic of your sisters is for you. And, to be frank, messing with ouija boards is not something to treat like a childrens board game. Those things are real, and have scary consequences. Nonetheless being on Native American grounds. This is why I was so against it, because I knew something like this would happen.” Josh just looks down to the ground, his expression looking like he has a lot on his mind. Like he was getting ready to say or do something. After what feels like an eternity, Josh speaks up.

“Josh, you don't have to pretend to be fine. I would be just as upset if I were in your shoes. If anything, I wouldn't be able to carry myself as well as you do.” You assure him and put a hand on his warm back. Josh's gaze is still on the ground and the room falls silent for a second. You can tell Josh is looking for the right words to say.

“Thank you, [Y/n]. I appreciate it, I really do.. No one's ever-” Josh’s mouth slightly hangs open as he tries to find his words. “I just don't want to think about it right now. I just don't want to think at all right now.” He admits, rubbing his temples with one hand. You watch, silently. Chewing your bottom lip anxiously as you two sit there in awkward silence.

You knew Josh was going through a lot right now, and you could only imagine what was going on inside his head. You knew you couldn't do much to ease his pain, but the most you could do was be there for him. Over the months you've known Josh, you've learned that his biggest working coping mechanism so far is distractions. There were times where he had a shitty day and called you up just to talk, play video games, and distract him from whatever terrible emotion he's feeling. And you're more than happy to do that.

You take a deep breath in and prepare yourself as you firmly take his hands into yours, putting them on each side of your waist, and embracing him into a gentle hug.

“[Y/n]?..” Josh whispers at the side of your head. He was taken aback a bit, but definitely wasn’t opposed to this affectionate action.

“Just, let me do this for you.” You murmur, tightening your grip around his back. “Let me be here for you..” You rest your chin in the crook of his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. He sighs, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Thank you.” He whispers. He rests his head against yours, quietly inhaling your scent and hair. His large and rough hands gripping your soft flesh against your clothes. The clothes that he couldn’t help but want to rip off of you the moment his hands were on your waist. The hug lasted longer than just a friendly one, and you knew he noticed that too. There was no questioning it; you both wanted each other in one way or another. The tension filled balloon that's lasted over the 8 months since you met is about to pop.

As the hug continued, Josh tested the waters by lightly rubbing his hands up and down your sides, his grip getting a bit more confident. You began feeling some type of way, getting more bold with the newfound wave of arousal, sexual tension, and energy. Your fingers delicately and playfully travel down from his back, to his chest, and down his semi-toned body in a painfully slow way, making sure to tease him with every soft stroke. You take a gamble by hooking your fingers underneath his pants and boxers, but only on the hem which drove him absolutely mad.

Your thumbs caress his v-line, enhancing the sexual atmosphere. Josh was loving every bit of this, and he started to nuzzle into your neck-leaving light kisses against your warm and soft skin; eventually turning into rough ones with a few bites here and there as your hands began to unbutton his pants while your lips placed hungry kisses against his shoulder.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll give you something else to think about..” Josh leans away to look you in the eyes, a smirk on his lips as he raises a brow at you.

“Yeah? What did you have in mind, Marbles?” He asked in a lighthearted tone. You smile, a seductive glint in your [e/c] eyes. You firmly push him back against his bed, and start sensually stripping off your sweater and leggings in front of him, leaving you in your skirt and undershirt. After placing yourself in between his thighs, he bit his lip and looked at you with adoration and excitement, ready for whatever you were about to do to him.

Josh bit his lip in anticipation from your words as he looked you up and down. “Oh? Well, I’m all yours to handle~” And with that, you begin to undo his pants further, pulling up his shirt and leaning over to his stomach as you plant kisses of appreciation all over his skin-pulling down his pants in the process. Josh sighs, and his eyelids lower. His heart rate picks up as he watches you, your beautiful figure treating him like his body was the most precious and delicate thing in the world.

“Let’s just say, something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.” You reply back, giving him a not so innocent smile.

Once his pants were low enough, you rise a bit and look down at his bulging boxers. He looked absolutely delicious, in this view, just for you. You look up at his lust filled eyes and bring your face closer to his-a soft gasp escaping his lips as you slowly bring his boxers down next. The intense eye contact had his head spinning and he needed to do something with these overwhelming emotions.

He grabbed a fist full of your hair, not too rough though, and crashed his lips onto yours in a heated kiss. You both hungrily consume each other while you take his pulsating and thick cock into your hand and begin to stroke him. Thankfully it was already soaked in precum, making it easier to rub him up and down at the speed you were going.

Through the kiss, you could feel his whole body stutter and tense with pleasure as you continued to stroke him. His hips slightly raised off the bed, chasing for more. You could tell Josh was slowly losing his composure as he started to let out small broken moans, while trying his absolute best to continue the kiss.

“Ngh~ Fuck..” Josh whimpers out as he turns his head away from your intense and lustful gaze, maybe in embarrassment? You didn't expect him to start whimpering and falling apart this early, not that you're complaining, you actually want to keep pulling these delicious sounds from him.

Josh’s neck is exposed to you, so you take the liberty to start kissing it and leave small marks. You slowed the pace of your hand down to a more sensual one while making sure to never stop sucking on his neck. Josh’s senses were going into overdrive and he definitely felt like he was going to cum soon, but he didn't want it to end. This caused his thighs to tense under you from the stimulation, and he put his hand on your wrist that's stroking his length to anchor himself. Which you found to be one of the hottest things ever.

Josh puts the back of his other hand on his mouth, clearly trying to muffle the beautiful sounds he's giving you.

“Don't be shy, I want to hear you~” You say in a sultry tone while grabbing his hand from his mouth and bringing it to your clothed breast. Instinctively, Josh whips his head at you; those beautiful green sex glazed eyes fixated on you. His hand started to massage your breast under your grip, using his thumb to stroke against your nipple from under your bra that was growing harder from the stimulation.

Your eyes start to flutter and you lean into his ear, “Thaaat’s it, there’s a good boy. You’re doing so well for me.” You whisper. The praise lit something inside him and he needed more of you. As you’re continuing to stroke him, Josh removes his hands from you and to your shirt-damn near ripping it off and tosses it aside. His fingers go straight to your ribs and grips you for dear life. His half-lidded eyes soak up every inch of you with lust and adoration.

“Wow..” He whispers breathlessly in between moans. “..You’re so fucking beautiful [Y/n].” His hands dart to the back of your bra and unhooks it, letting your tits out into his view. He was basically drooling from the sight, immediately taking action. He leans up and captured one of your nipples into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it like it was the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, while using his hands to hold you in place and to pleasure your other nipple with his fingers; pinching and circling with his thumb at an unbelievably delectable pace that had you heating up to the core.

“Fuck, Josh..” You whimper out, unable to control your voice. Your hand strokes his dick sporadically, unable to contain your focus. This pushes Josh to go further as he moves a free hand under your skirt, and starts stroking your already damp underwear. Josh hums at the feeling, circling a finger on your clit-causing you to suck in a sharp breath of air and buck into his hand. “Oh, someone seems to be desperate for more, huh?” He mumbles against your breast. You roll your eyes, “You’re one to talk. You’re practically using my hand to fuck yourself.” You make an emphasis as you squeeze his cock that was frantically rubbing against your hand.

He hums, in a somewhat defeated tone. “I guess I’ll take a loss on this one then, hm?” He guided your hand away from his cock, clearly wanting to let you have all the attention right now. You didn't know what he had in store for you, but you were excited for it.

His index and middle fingers rub circles over your clothed hole, before pushing past the boundaries of your underwear, in between your coated folds, and slowly sink them into your wet pussy-earning a harsh groan from you as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. “A-ah fuck~” is all your able to manage out from the feeling of his thick fingers.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t take my revenge~” He coo’s into your neck, kissing and biting your skin. He works his fingers into you with such precision, you'd be surprised if he didn't have any experience beforehand. You grind yourself down onto his hand, chasing for more. You could feel your body grow in temperature from the body heat and pleasure. You look down at the sight below you, and what a sight it is; Josh's lidded green eyes intensely gazing up at you, his bottom lip slightly pulled between his teeth. His face clearly searches for any slight reactions you make, almost calculating. You feel your body flush even more just from the way he's looking at you, the intense eye contact making everything feel more passionate. You feel him working you up, getting you close to your peak, but your body feels a small wave of disappointment and confusion once Josh's fingers leave from inside you.

Josh sits up and puts a firm hand on your waist, using it to turn you over on your back so that he's towering over you. The position instantly made you feel submissive, and Josh's eyes never left yours.

“You look so damn hot underneath me.” Josh declares and all you can do is let out a bashful whine. Josh smirks at your reaction and roughly puts his hand on your jaw, the switch up only turning you on even more as you can feel more slick build up in between your legs. You instinctively put your hand on his wrist that's holding your jaw.

Josh moves his fingers out of your mouth and replaces it with his tongue, reaching down to catch you in an almost-rough, passionate kiss. Your hands instantly gravitate towards his hair, gripping at the dark brown tufts to pull him impossibly closer than he already was which earns you a groan from Josh.

“Where's all that confidence now?” He smugly asks, feeling as if he won with your silence. Josh uses his hand on your jaw to use his index and middle finger to prod at your lips, parting them. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue causing small strings of saliva to spill out of your mouth. You can taste yourself on the same fingers that were once inside you, only adding to the erotic sensations you're feeling in this moment. And all you can do is look him in his eyes that continue to stare you down with dominance. You didn't expect Josh to have this kinky side, not that you're complaining, it's actually quite the opposite. You're soaking it all up, letting him do as he wishes with you.

His wet fingers trace down your body, passing your nipples and giving it a light pinch, causing you to slightly arch your back, pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and let out a small squeal. You feel him lightly chuckle into this kiss from your reaction, and he continues to rake his saliva coated fingers down your body, only slightly touching you, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers make their way down to your mound, teasing you and caressing you there, making you wiggle around in anticipation. The kisses move from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. Josh makes sure to take his time there, sucking more dark marks onto your warm skin. His fingers prod at your entrance, collecting just enough slick to ghost his fingers over your clit.

“J-Josh..” You say in a strangled voice, his teasing making it hard to find your words. Your hips involuntarily stutter into his fingers.

“Yes~?” He replies in a low, sultry teasing tone, urging you to say more. You could feel the bass of his voice vibrate against your neck and it only enhanced all the senses you were feeling. Josh slightly lifts his head from your neck to make eye contact with you. With his eyes dark, lidded, and his hair tousled only enhanced his looks in this moment.

“P-please..” You can feel yourself become bashful under his stare and you find it hard to keep eye contact. It's still hard for you to believe that you're even in this position with Josh right now. All the nights you lay in bed alone imagining what it would feel like to be this close to you in such a state is finally coming to fruition.

Fingers trace their way up your torso, circling around your breast, and tracing back down.

“C’mon. You're a big girl, use your words~” Josh teases. You swallow thickly, your fingers raking up into his brown locks. The smooth strands of his hair being gripped by your hands roughly as you gain your focus to speak.

“Please, I need you to fuck me. I’ve been needing this for so long..” You whisper breathlessly. Josh’s lips part a bit, and something changed in his eyes. They seemed, hungry. Frantic. Desperate, even. It sent chills through your veins and you found it enticing.

“Well look at that, she CAN speak. Such a good girl~ Your wish is mine to grant..” Josh licks his lips as he makes his hands to your breasts, fingering your nipples sensually. Your back arches, and you can feel your pussy throbbing more for friction. You let out a soft moan, which Josh laps up when he places a rough and hard kiss to your lips. His hands find their way to your waist and up to grip your ribs. His fingers rub against your bones, inciting a welcomed tinge of pain. He breaks the kiss slowly as he leans up and looks at you with a pure sex filled gaze,

“I’m gonna need you to prepare yourself, ok? You think you can handle that?” He whispers.

You give him a confused look. “Why?”

He smirks, and places his dick at your dripping wet entrance-your body instinctively jerks on his tip. “Because I’m gonna rearrange your guts.”

Before you can react, he firmly plunges himself inside you. The amazing stretch of his length inside you makes you whine out, and he quickly covers your mouth. “Shh, don’t want everyone to hear us now do we?” He mutters into your ear. You shake your head and whimper as he picks up the pace. Your juices coat his dick which makes it easier to adjust around him. The pressure and harshness was so new to you, you didn’t know how to cope. Your legs wrapped around his waist and hands gripped his hair more. His pace was fast but also steady-your body was writhing underneath him. Loud moans and gasps were muffled by his hand that was trying to escape. His own breathing was labored but controlled, and his eyes were shut tightly. You could tell he was enjoying this to the fullest.

He pushed two of his thick fingers into your mouth, and your tongue happily licked them up and down. You guys made eye contact as you did so and you could feel his dick twitch inside you from it. “You have, NO idea how long I’ve wanted this [Y/n]. I fucking missed you so much. I’ve dreamed about this for so long, God you feel incredible.” Josh breathlessly claims, taking his fingers out.

You drink up his praises like a dehydrated pup, and your heart starts to beat faster than it ever had. “I missed you too Josh, I’ve wanted this for so long as well. I’ve wanted to be with you like this since I left the mental ward. Jesus, all I’ve thought about was you.” Josh’s eyes flicker for a moment. Like a deep thought crossed his mind. His expression dropped slightly, but just as quick as it came it was gone. You were gonna ask about it until he pressed his lips on yours and continued to pound into you and it erased any thought you had.

His fingers dig into your flesh, his nails were definitely gonna leave marks. But you didn’t care. All you could think about was his dick absolutely demolishing you. The sounds of your guys’ combined moans and his cock fucking your wet cunt was all you could focus on. Josh brings a hand down from your waist to your clit. His finger pads work on it in rough yet gentle circles, coaxing out intense shocks of pleasurable waves through your body. Your hips thrust into his to match his pace as you chase your high. “C’mon baby, you got this. Let yourself unravel. I want to feel you cum on my dick~” Josh coos against your lips. You whine out a moan as you nod, putting your attention on your upcoming orgasm.

The way his cock was rubbing up into your walls, the way his hips were slapping into yours, his groans echoing into your ears; it was all you could’ve asked for and more. You were going crazy. Your hands went to his back, your fingers digging into his toned body. Your nails leave harsh mark lines to show your..Intense actions with each other, you could say. But you didn’t care. And Josh was certainly loving it. The pain and pleasure mixed into one was making the euphoric atmosphere between you two, far more enjoyable than you guys would have imagined.

You were almost there, you were almost reaching your peak; everything was building up and up. Josh clasps his free hand around your neck, lightly and effectively choking you while never halting the movement of his fingers on your clit and the pounding of his cock. All you're able to do is arch your back and moan in delight as you instinctively reach to hold onto Josh's hand and wrist that's gripping your neck. Josh's thrusts start pistoning into you with such force and roughness that it deliciously rubbed against your inner walls in all the right spots, his fingers on your clit moving at a rapid pace, and his grip tightening ever so slightly on your neck, you were on cloud nine. You feel the pressure in your lower regions build higher and higher, almost as if it was about to pop. You were so close.

Josh leans in close, his warm panting breath tickling your ear. You're not sure what he's doing and everything is happening too quickly before you can find out. You feel something wet and warm sensually slide from your jaw to your cheekbone, the peculiar feeling sent shivers down your spine. That's when you realize Josh just licked the side of your face, taking you completely off guard in such a pleasurable way. You didn't know Josh could turn you on and heighten this moment more than he already has-

“You’ve earned it. Now fucking cum.” He commands in a stern, dominant tone. This is all it takes to push you over the edge, the pressure finally popping. Your vision fades slightly and you feel your eyes roll. All the muscles in your body tensed and tightened, your back arching. Your mouth opens, probably ready to let out an incredibly loud moan but you can't tell anymore. Josh continues to ride you through your orgasm, never stopping his pace and movements on your clit.

All you feel is wet; so, so wet. Your thighs, the sheets under you-Josh‘s hips that were slamming into you; everything felt drenched. You don't find out why until your vision fades back to normal, leaving you to look down where you and Josh were connected. Everything was completely soaked in your cum. You can feel your face burn red as Josh stares at you surprised, his hips stuttering. “Fuck, baby- did you just…?” You had squirted for him, because of him, and it was the sexiest thing he's ever seen in his life.

You weren't expecting this to happen, so you do all you can think of, and just nod. This only causes Josh to speed his thrusts, chasing his orgasm and in turn overstimulating you. “Shit- you're so fucking dirty, baby.” He accentuates each world with a deep thrust. Watching you squirt for him was all he needed to push himself over the edge, his head rolling back, his grip on your neck tightening and untightening. Josh lets out the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard a man make when his seed spills into you, filling you up. (Thank God you were on birth control though, because if not this moment probably wouldn’t have felt like it did). Heavy breaths and broken moans leave both of your guys mouths as Josh slows his pace to a halt, releasing his grasp from your neck and using his hands to hold his weight above you, head dipped catching his breath.

This was the most beautiful and erotic experience to ever happen to you-and Josh as well. You were so overstimulated your body and nerves were literally vibrating inside your skin. You soak up Josh’s form utop; his messy brown locks pulled in all sorts of directions that made him look so sexy, the sweat accumulating on his beautiful olive skin, it was all so intoxicating to see. You look down and huff a small whimper of disappointment when he slowly pulls out of your dripping cunt. He lets out a deep groan when he looks at you, all disheveled and covered in each other's cum. What a gorgeous sight to behold.

“Wow, Marbles..” Josh mumbles as he soothingly rubs your thighs to relieve some tension from your muscles. “..Never thought I’d have a girl squirt for me. What an honor~” You scoff at his teasing comments and use a hand to lazily swat at him.

“Oh shut up. You liked it anyway.” You remark. He catches your hand and raises a brow. “Liked it?” He repeated. He uses your hand to travel down to your coated pussy and sticks your two fingers inside you-your body twitching a bit from the contact, and pulls your fingers out and into his mouth.

Your cheeks flush incredibly red at the sight; his eyes close and he moans against your hand as his brows furrowed in pleasure. You can feel his tongue slowly lick up the fluids from your fingers, and GODS was it hot. He pulls your fingers from his mouth and opens his eyes and leans in for a rough kiss. He sticks his tongue into your mouth and forcefully flushes some of the mixed cum into your mouth-earning a surprised muffled gasp from you. But you don’t reject it. Instead you allow it and embrace the taste.

It was bitter, sweet, and salty all at the same time. You never thought you’d enjoy this kind of taste before, until now. Because it was with Josh. He leans back a bit, smiling that oh so adorable smirk he always had on, “I don’t like it, [Y/n]. I fucking love it.”

You smile weakly, the exhaustion catching up to you. “Is that so? Well I guess we should do this more often then, huh?”

Josh’s eyes sparkle at your words, and nods enthusiastically. “Yes PLEASE! I would love a second round of the bone zone with you.” You both laugh at his eager tone and playful words-taking this moment to just relax and be happy with one another.

“Okay you're done.” You smile and mock roll your eyes at him. Josh just stares at you with that stupid-adorable grin and you playfully shove your hand in his face, shielding his eyes from you. Josh just prys your hand away from his face and pins it down beside your head. “Come on don't be like that, you know you love me~” He deeply whispers close to your face and leans in for a sweet kiss, your lips moving against each other's for a few seconds. You stare into eachothers eyes in silence for a little, Josh looking at you with adoration and much more. If only this moment could last forever.

“Alright I gotta go pee.” You break the silence, your bladder crying out to you causing Josh to roll off of you, letting you sit up. “Well, can I watch?” He asks which you take so unseriously and roll your eyes. You start to dress yourself, getting ready to put your panties on your sticky body before Josh stops you, handing you a towel and you thank him.

“Is there anything you need or want me to get while you're in the bathroom?” Josh asks genuinely, and you find it sweet.

“Uhmm… just a cup of water would be good,” you give him a warm smile while wiping yourself off and changing into your clothes.

“Alright I got ya. The bathroom is the door right across from mine.” Josh informs you, continuing to pull on his boxers and leaving you to take your time to ogle his half naked body. It was still hard for you to believe that you were able to get so close to Josh, see each other again, and then be intimate with each other. You weren't here for a quick fuck and then leave, you wanted to stay for the endgame, to go out on cute dates together, to spend nights in eachother’s rooms watching stupidly bad horror movies, playing video games, and waking up next to eachother. You just hoped Josh felt the same way, but you think you're confident he likes you.

After changing back into you clothes, minus your sweater, you leave Josh's room. The colder air of the hallway in the lodge wafting in your face. As you open the bathroom door, you could feel the transition from expensive hardwood floor to expensive tiles underneath your feet.

After finishing with the toilet and washing your hands, you take some time to look at yourself in the mirror. It's still so hard for you to wrap your head around what just happened, you feel like a giddy school girl. Months and months of crushing finally lead to something and you can't help but want Josh to be your boyfriend.

Josh was waiting for you back in his room, ready with a cold glass of water for you. You open the door to him sitting on his bed, unfortunately now fully clothed, messing around with something on his phone. Josh's eyes reach yours and he gives you a small smile grabbing the water for you off of his nightstand. You take a seat next to him on the bed, taking the water from his hand, thanking him.

As you raise the glass to your lips, you can feel Josh’s gaze on you, staring, taking glances between his phone and you. As you take a few big gulps, a small voice in the back of your head wonders why Josh is watching so observantly while you drink water. The water's cold, refreshing and you finish about half before you're satiated, reaching over him to set it back on the nightstand.

You and Josh continue to talk with each other for a little bit. During the whole conversation Josh would periodically glance at his phone, checking the time, but you weren't sure why. Only 15 minutes into your conversation you start feeling off. You can't explain the feeling. It's as if your body is slowing down. You've reduced your responses down to nodding along with lidded eyes.

“Josh… I’m- m’not feeling good…” You manage out that one sentence, hopefully it's enough for Josh to understand.

“Hey.. just lay down a bit, yeah?..” You feel a warm hand on your back and another on your shoulder guiding you to lay down the bed.

It doesn't feel right anymore, this doesn't feel right. You don't feel good but it's not like you're sick. It feels like your body's slowly shutting off. You can’t really make out what's going on around you. It's like everything is in slow motion. You try to open your mouth, but it suddenly feels dry and your ability to speak goes away. You try to raise a limp arm off the bed, but it doesn't go far; you no longer have control over your own body.

You see Josh's face looking down at you, calculating and watching your every move. You were drugged. You're sure of it. From what, the water? Nothing tasted off, right? Why though? Why would he do this? Why would this happen? Everything was going fine, right? Right..? The only thing you could think about was betrayal and fear you felt in this moment. What was going to happen to you?

The last thing you see is Josh standing above you, peering down at you with a torn look on his face, making no move to help. Many emotions washed over you; hurt, betrayal, and confusion. But you're not able to process them before you let go of consciousness, the world around you fading. And then..It went dark.

[a/n]: here's the long awaited chapter! Sorry for taking so long we got way busier than expected. One of us ended up moving to the next town over so it took a while to get free time to write. All the other chapters should be coming out a lot faster now!

Taglist: @puppygirlella @sigma-alpha-writer-chad

[drdemonprince]

i'd like to say sth abt the x gender marker thing. i've just started getting the paperwork done for it myself, and although its an exhausting grueling bureaucratic pricess, it's filling me w the kind of joy i last felt when i got my first hrt prescription. i know i will have constant difficulties in a system of institutions that have no official way of dealing w nonbinary identities, and i fully expect the openly white nationalist party in my country to become a significant influence in national government within the next 10 years. i also have an escape plan of sorts, but i'm fully expecting that i may be legally detransitioned again. i would still be betraying myself fundamentally and stealing joy from myself, something that i get to have very little of, if i didn't do it anyway, bc i already cannot access plenty of services including healthcare bc i'm simply too dysphoric and institutionally traumatized to show up and be misgendered. there is no such thing as stealth or passing for a nonbinary person in the society i live in, only erasure; i might as well exercise this tiny amount of power i have been given for a brief time to force them to acknowledge me as who i am. i agree that having one's gender be irrelevant to one's personhood, including legally, would be vastly preferable, but i don't see how me getting an x in my id detracts from or otherwise influences that. my government already has plenty of ways of getting lists of trans ppl if they ever want one. i may be painting a target on my back, but as far as i am concerned, it is already there bc i am already incredibly vulnerable and restricted as a trans person for whom passing or stealth is not an option. i might as well get marginalized for who and what i am and make them look me in the eye at a doctor's office while they awkwardly tell me they don't have the infrastructure to process me as a patient than cringe and stammer while i tell them that actually i'm transgender and i would prefer for them to address me as this or that while knowing damn well they just see me as a quirky woman that they may or may not humor for hashtag diversity's sake. they may still do that ofc, but for all the risks and trouble i am incurring, it also corrects the scales of institutional power just a tiny bit in my favor by giving me legal grounds to argue. i'm also terrified of the police for good reasons, but i'm more terrified of them as a misgendered and scared but not out trans person unsure if and how much to advocate for myself than i am as someone confident enough to at least get hurt for who i am, rather than for who i am not and hiding out of fear of worse punishment. i am not advocating for anyone else to do or not do the same bc it is a subjective and highly varied set of risks and rewards that must be personally evaluated, and above all i'm very aware that as a white (not us) person, for all the institutional violence i have previously endured, i would be risking far worse if i were not, but as far as i am concerned, it feels like one of the best, most powerful things i can do for myself right now is to get the damn papers even if in the worst case they end up taking them away from me again.

Thanks for sharing your experience. I remember that when I was nonbinary and not medically transitioning, I felt much the same way. I was ready to really throw myself on the pyre for the sake of just actually being seen as not the gender I had been forced to be, for once. And honestly? Nothing short of medical transition did that. All the changes to my personal style, hair, comportment, voice training, the pronoun pins, the asserting myself, the putting pronouns in my email signature, the changing my medical forms and documentation at work to make me nonbinary, none of it made what felt like any lick of difference in how i was treated, because nonbinary identities are so thoroughly erased. The ONLY thing that got people to start treating me as gender ambiguous or to they/them me was to begin to transition as a trans man and use he/him pronouns, lol. (And eventually, most people did switch over to actually gendering me correctly as a guy, tho I still do get the they/them once in a while which annoys me and it's always VERY telling who tends to do it).

I don't know your situation or if you have medically transitioned in any fashion or not, or if you even want to, and our stories are different, but all of which is to say, I know how immensely frustrating it is and how confining it is to interpreted as your assigned gender seemingly no matter what you fucking do, and that sensation of being willing to take on serious risk to be seen. if anything that was part of what tipped me over into self conceptualizing as a gender nonconforming man rather than outside the binary altogether. different risks that i chose to take on, but still, the decision to take on risk rather than be locked away inside how people saw me.

I think structural nonbinary erasure runs so deep that very few individual level actions can make a dent in it and it's maddening. Of course there's all the intersections with transmisogyny that also impact who is visible as trans and who is not and who finds themselves yearning for greater visibility and those for whom visibility is nothing but massive vulnerability that itself cannot be escaped. But I understand that you've considered everything carefully and are aware of the risks in what you're taking on, and I hope that it does mean you don't feel that confined unseen feeling anymore. Because as much as I'm qualifying things I do know how fucking awful that sensation is and how few avenues there are for doing a damn thing about it that people will take seriously.

[narcosfandomdiscord]

UHHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMM???????? EXCYUUUUUUSEEMEE this was such a delightful little slice of life that I’m like just pleased as punch sitting here kicking my feet, marveling at how much I truly enjoyed this. First off, insane move doing all three prompts??? liek i know you said you were having a hard time with this fic but it doesn’t show at all and the casual flex of this being such a treat to read and also hitting on all three prompts is just final boss behavior. and secondly, if you don’t do some kind of follow up or second part to this i will force you to at duolingo gunpoint

like I just need more of them immiedately pls and thank you

Also iknow this wasn’t tailor made for me bc i’ve never seen tgm HOWMEVER you had to know i would be salivating over a female-character-spends-entire-time-READING-male-character-to-all-fuck-for-entire-fic dynamic skskjdfk bc with moments like -> “I’m that memorable, huh?” You rolled your eyes and shook your head, “Fuck off.” and -> “Cocky doesn’t pair well with the sad, ‘He made me who I am,’ schtick.” He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he laughed. “You’re meaner than I remember.” “Yeah, that’s because you don’t remember me.” Like I rarely insert myself as Reader but this time Reader is actually just me SKSKS also side note: can we all motion to make someone’s callsign Mystery Man bc I’m sorry it’s just too good

oh AAAND can’t go out without giving an honorable mention to this banger of a closing line -> And, if nothing else, at least you knew that this time everything was going to be a bit more memorable.

Just Like Old Times

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & F!Reader

Written for @narcosfandomdiscord Book of Inception: fanwork that provides an origin story for a character that doesn't have one & "He made me who I am" & improvement

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: the way that the last week or so has gone really just zapped all the motivation and creativity out of me, so getting this written really fought me every step of the way lmao. but i will say, that thinking about Jake Seresin in high school was fun. giving him a brother was also fun. going three for three on these prompts was challenging and rewarding and fun. and now i want to revisit these two at some point because idk i have issues lmao

You knew from the second that you’d walked into The Hard Deck that night that he didn’t remember you. Part of you didn’t really blame him, high school being such a distant memory for all of you now. Not just in years, but in all the experiences you’d packed into those years as well. From one standpoint you understood it…sort of.

From another standpoint you couldn’t believe that he could look you in the face and not say a word, not have even the tiniest flicker of recognition. He had looked right at you, and moved right on along to the next person. No matter how much things changed, they always stayed the fucking same.

It wasn’t until everyone was sitting out on the beach after the football game that the two of you even had a real conversation. Up until that point everyone had been running circles around each other, and you had much bigger things to worry about than Jake Seresin’s recollections of you, or lack thereof.

You were mid-conversation with Bob and Natasha when you noticed that neither of them were really looking at you anymore. You searched their faces, trying to figure out what it was that they were looking at.

Natasha leaned back, palms sinking into the sand as she said, “Bagman, six o’clock and incoming.”

You rolled your eyes, still not turning around to look at him. “Man knows how to ruin a good day.”

You didn’t have to look back to know how close he was, the tilts of Bob’s and Natasha’s head spelling out that information for you. His footfalls were nearly silent on the sand. Without realizing it, the closer he got, the deeper you pushed your fingertips into the sand like you were searching for something to grip onto.

Suddenly you were cast in Hangman’s shadow as he stood directly behind you. You shut your eyes for a moment, the longest blink ever as you tried hard to bite your tongue.

“Ladies,” he said, and you didn’t have to be looking at him to know exactly what his face looked like. “Bobby.”

Natasha was squinting against the sun but she still pulled a bit of a face. “It’s a good day, Hangman,” she said with just enough warning in her tone. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He chuckled, and you could see from the movement of his shadow that he was holding his hands out. “Every day at Top Gun is a good day, Phoenix. Thought you would’ve known that already.”

You were hoping that it was just going to be a quick thing, an in-passing comment that he made because he simply couldn’t bring himself to walk by your little trio without saying anything. But of course it wasn’t. Somehow the shift went from Natasha making extremely thinly veiled comments to the effect that Jake should hit the goddamn bricks, to him plopping down on the ground right there with you. He wedged himself right there between you and Bob like he had been there the whole time.

It didn’t take very long after that for Natasha to find a reason to leave. And wherever Natasha went, Bob was only ever a few steps behind. That left it with just you and Jake and the ocean that was slowly beginning to calm in front of you. It was a scene that could’ve been a peaceful one if the man sitting next to you had any interest in that.

Legs bent and pulled up towards you, you draped your arms across your knees. You were staring out at the receding waves as you asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Seresin?”

You could feel him staring at you and you made a point to not return the gesture. “Where’d you say you were from?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t. Also don’t think you’ve actually asked me a question directly the entire time we’ve been here.” You cast him a glance. “Too busy giving Rooster a hard time.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly at you like he was studying you, but there was still a smirk on his face. The more time you spent around him, the more you wondered if that was just what his face defaulted to these days. He leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Wasn’t until I heard Phoenix call you by your last name earlier that I realized—”

“Wow,” you barked out with a laugh, unable to stop yourself. “You’ve been running drills and sitting in class with me for how long and it took until today for you to recognize me? No sense of déjà vu sitting two rows over from me and picking on other kids in class? Nothin’ jogged your memory even a little?”

He leaned back, brows meeting for a moment. “When did you—”

“The first night we all got here!” you said, gesturing emphatically at nothing.

The smirk instantly returned to his face. “I’m that memorable, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Fuck off.”

“What? C’mon, you can’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“No?” he asked, chuckling like he knew better than to believe you. A lot of confidence in your character for someone who only remembered who you were within the last two hours.

“No. Being mad would suggest that I’m somehow surprised that you’re still the way that you are. And I’m definitely…not.” You sighed. “You’re still Jake Seresin. Only difference now is—”

“My rank? The number of confirmed kills I have?” he tried to fill in the blanks, cocky as he’d ever been.

You looked at him. “Only difference is now you’re old enough to know better.” You saw the way he rolled his eyes at you and couldn’t help but to say, “I don't get you, Jake.”

The look on his face let you know that it had been a long time since someone referred to him by just his first name, not his last or his callsign. There was something intimate about it in a way. You wouldn't have given it any thought if he hadn't flinched at it.

He recovered as quickly as he could, that air of nonchalance reappearing around him. “I'm no Mystery Man.” He held his hands out in a brief gesture, like an invitation to scan him over. “What you see is what you get.”

It wasn't untrue. Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who lived a double life. Who he was around you was exactly who he was around everyone else. Maybe when it was just him, when there was no one else in the room looking to him or expecting anything from him, he was a different person. Not that it mattered—the world was never going to know. Reaching as far back as you could in your brain for memories of him, he'd always been some version of the man sitting in the sand next to you. He was just looking a little more refined these days.

You had just been hoping, when you'd seen him again, that maybe he would've changed by now. Nothing would be different if he wasn't different, but it would've been nice if it could be. The longer you looked at him, the more you tried to un-blur all of the memories that you hadn't bothered to tap into in a long time.

“How's your brother these days?” you asked, diverting course just slightly.

The question was immediately met with an eye-roll. “Fine.”

You had to let out a quiet laugh at that. “Yeah? That good, huh?”

He shrugged. “You want the play-by-play or something?” He shook his head, looking out at the ocean instead of at you. “He's fine.”

“You two not get along anymore or something? I thought you were both—”

“I see him on holidays. We text on birthdays. He is off doing…whatever he does.”

You hadn't expected the tension. From what you remembered, the two of them had gotten along well enough. His brother was a few years ahead of both of you, in his senior year of high school when the two of you were freshman. But he'd always been nice, nicer than Jake had been anyway. But they ran in a lot of the same circles, played a lot of the same sports, and they seemed to have a relatively good time doing it. Judging by the way that Jake was avoiding looking in your direction, you were now wondering if you were misremembering it all.

“We're grown-ups now, you know,” you offered up finally. “If you don't want to talk about him you can just say that.”

He flipped it right back on you. “We're grown-ups now, I can answer questions about Tommy if you have them.”

You laughed quietly and shook your head. “I can see that. The answers you've given so far have been so thorough and paint such a clear picture.” It got him to laugh even though you could tell that he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. After a moment you cleared your throat. “You guys just seemed to get along back then, is all.”

Now he was looking at you again. “Yeah, Tommy got along with everyone back then—still does.”

You hummed in amusement. “Guess that trait isn't a genetic one, then.”

He cracked a small grin as he swatted sand at you. “Funny.” There was a pause, and you were waiting for him to pick something else to talk about, or for him to just get up and leave. Instead, he gave himself a moment and then said, “Tommy graduated with a full ride, but even when he was gone somehow I was still…” he trailed off. “Navy was the first place I wasn't a legacy kid. No footsteps to follow. Just me.”

“Hmm,” you nodded, not sure what you really wanted to say in response to that.

He caught your uncertainty. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…you wanna say that your brother, your family, your whoever was why you were like that back then. Fine, I get that, kind of. But then why,” you curled your fingers into the sand, “are you still up to all the same shit?”

“I'm not—”

“You are.” The laugh you let out was dry. “I'm one of the only people here that you can't lie to about that. I knew you back then, and I know you now, and from what I've seen? Not much has changed.”

The pinch of his brows let you know that what you were saying was getting to him, whether he admitted to it or not. He tried to hide it, and was semi-successful at it—it probably would've fooled someone else. “If it ain't broke—”

You didn't let him get to the end of the sentence. “There's always room for improvement.”

You were used to laughing at your own little one-liners, but Jake laughing at them too was new, especially when they were at his expense. Whatever the two of you were doing in that moment, it was the closest to being friends that you'd ever been. It was still a stretch but it was something.

“I don't know, you stack my resumé up against anyone else's here and I'd say I'm about as improved as it gets.”

“I think the one thing that could definitely still do with some improving is your humility,” you rebutted with a laugh. You geared up to hear some comment about how there was no need to be humble if he could back up everything that he was saying. When he didn’t, you said, “And, if you feel like taking suggestions—”

“You got another one for me?” he joked.

You laughed. “Yeah, of course.” You cleared your throat. “You said it yourself that this is the one place where none of that other stuff matters, like it never happened. So maybe, when you get a chance, you should get around to dropping all the bitterness that goes along with the brotherhood rivalry.” You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Cocky doesn't pair well with the sad, ‘He made me who I am,’ shtick.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he laughed. “You're meaner than I remember.”

“Yeah, that's because you don't remember me,” you said, the lift at the ends of your lips taking the sting out of your words.

The look of surprise didn’t fade from his face, neither did the amusement. “Damn.”

You still had a smile on your face as you stood back up. Brushing the sand off the backs of your legs, you looked at him. It was a strange feeling, caught between remembering how things were back then and knowing how they were now. A lot of things hadn't changed, clearly, but the circumstances certainly had. You wanted more of it to be different, but there was no saying it so plainly.

“You heading back?” you asked, standing completely upright.

He looked up at you from where he was sitting. Shaking his head, he replied, “Not yet.”

You cocked your head to the side, folding your arms over your chest. “Going to sit out here with your thoughts?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Well, you did give me a lot to think about.”

“Don't think too hard,” you joked as you started to walk away, “otherwise smoke’ll start coming out of your ears.”

“Your concern is touching!” he called after you, laughing as he spoke.

Turning around to face him, you continued walking away. “Guess I'm just too sentimental for my own good!” you replied, throwing your hands up in apparent exasperation with yourself.

You could still see the grin on his face as you turned back around. Even with your back to him, you still found yourself smiling too. You knew better than to get your hopes up for much, but there was still part of you that was thinking that maybe there was still a chance for things to start changing before all was said and done.

There was still the very large possibility that things would continue to be the same as they ever were. You knew that. But, the same way you'd been wanting things to be different the first night you turned up at The Hard Deck, you still wanted things to be different now. It felt a little more attainable now than it had then. And, if nothing else, at least you knew that this time everything was going to be a bit more memorable.

(divider by @inklore 🩶)

TGM Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

[hrrtshape]

FAME DR — random things i catch myself doing

⋆   checking my reflection in every reflective surface – not even trying to be vain; it just happens. windows, sunglasses, the back of my spoon in restaurants… gotta make sure the hair’s doing its thing!!!!!! can you blame me?? after scripting that im the most beautiful person in the galaxy world universe planet earth the extraterrestrial covering???

⋆  getting waay too into my own fan edits – i know, i know. i know !! but i can’t help it. cause why are some of these people lowkey bob ross’es…….. and god knows those iwishutalktalkwishutalktalkwishutalktalk edits slap!!!!!

⋆  making a mental list of all the celebrities i want to befriend – every awards show, it’s like, “ooooooooo, gotta chat with her next time. ye. ye,” or “could we handle being besties? or would she be too busy? would i be too busy??” 

⋆  doing my own mini-paparazzi test runs – i’ll walk down my hallway pretending it’s a red carpet, testing aaallll thé best angles and smiles for when the cameras flash. “which look is more it girl chic baddie mysterious diva core? do i give a little smile or keep it ice-cold? attitude?? fuck. what i do.”

⋆  googling my own name with random keywords – like “[…] + scandal” just to see what wild stories fans are spinning, or “[…] + best outfits” to remind myself that I AM…indeed.. that girl

⋆  pretending i’m on vogue’s “73 questions” while i do mundane stuff – loading the dishwasher or folding laundry, and all of a suddem i’m answering fake questions about my favourite ice cream flavour like the world is (definitelly….definitely…) watching.

⋆  using my awards as high-key decor – casually arranging grammy’s, oscars, tony’s and emmys’ on my living room shelf, so they’re visible for any.. unplanned photos. they might as well count as conversation starters.

⋆  accidentally stealing lip glosses from every makeup artist I work with – it’s not intentional! but I end up with an ever-growing collection of shades that accidentally find their way into my purse. oops ? the 11 year old kleptomaniac in me never left, i guess. 

⋆  tossing air-kisses to fans out the windows – dramatically waving out the window to invisible crowds like i’m on a royal tour. it’s mainly just for me, but I feel like the main character every single time.

⋆  practising my award speech in the shower – just in case, you know ? i’m running through all the thank yous and shoutouts, making sure the delivery is tear-worthy but not too dramatic.

⋆  catching myself using my best “signature” autograph – even when signing random receipts, i go full-on with my signature. i know it’ll end up on ebay one day, so i make it flawless every time.

⋆  overthinking my outfit to do something minor – even stepping out for two minutes has to look like it’s casual yet unbelievably chic. what if a fan spots me or a candid photo gets out? the pressure’s real.

⋆  choosing my airport outfits as if It’s a NYFW – the airport is a runway for the weary and jet-lagged, so i’m showing up in my finest oversized hoodie and designer shades, ready to be “spontaneously” photographed.

⋆  taking a nap between interview segments – there’s a tiny couch in my dressing room for a reason, and you better believe i’m getting that beauty sleep between each round of the press circuit. besides. it’s very convenient that i scripted i look angelic after waking up. so, yes! 

⋆  listening to my own songs on repeat (in private) – yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe it’s a little narcissistic, but when I’m alone, my music is basically my personal ‘bop-makker’ playlist. 

⋆  bringing little sweet treats to red carpets – you don’t know hunger until you’re in an all-day event in a tight dress with no food in sight, so yes, i stash some of those bombastic granola bars in my clutch.

⋆  updating my pinterest boards – 24/7 adding new aesthetics, vintage looks, moody photoshoots, and iconic glam shots for future eras. the grind never stops !! besides, it’s xtremely fun to find archival gowns that i could just be like… “yeah, i want it.” 

⋆  taking a pic every time i feel iconic !! – at the end of the day, it’s all about those little moments of mine. how could i not capture myself looking iconic with my hair blowing in the wind, or that one perfect winged eyeliner and i won an oscar. this is MY MOMENT. 

⋆  signing a signature with something xxxtra 4 fans – if i see a fan with my merch, i’ll randomly sign it and add hearts, sparkles, whatever i can just to make it extra special. just please don’t put it on ebay again with a doubled price 

⋆  giggling over my own wikipedia page – homemade margarita blender and a straw in it in hand, reading. yes. i do that. unemployed at heart. also sometimes raising an eyebrow when i encounter something false. like, no…i haven’t been dating dev patel. i mean, i wish ! 

⋆  humming my own lyrics while shopping — as if some people wouldn’t recognise them !! just a little “oopsy, did i just sing my grammy-winning chorus in the cereal aisle?”

⋆  leaving my phone on loud because it could be beyonce, for all intents and purposes — ready for all incoming calls. for interviews. for mysterious dinners. for my situationship to text me. for that movie role. but also probably just mom, calling to check on me.

⋆  breaking into runway walks — from the kitchen to the bathroom, because i !!!have!! to practice those killer strides. preferably in slippers.

⋆  complimenting my own acting in movies — like……“damn, i’m talented. i’m pretty good at this, huh..” lowkey shocking myelf during certain scenes, because yes, i went *THERE.*

⋆  collecting little trinkets from world tours — coasters, matchbooks, hotel room keys (should’ve probably given those back, now that i’m thinking about it), because each one is a time capsule from the adventure.

⋆  randomly testing my oscar acceptance expressions in the mirror — gotta know how much to cry, smile, or look truly humbled when the time comes !!!!

[redvexillum]

Hey there my sweetest, beloved Vexi ♡

I just wanted to share something personal with you that you can then share with others because I know that they feel the same.

Writing has always been my passion. It's been the one thing that has kept me afloat in my life. Regardless of whether people love my writing or hate it, I would continue for the sake of continuing because it is my life.

But when I rejoined fandom spaces, I was terrified after hearing stories of how the culture had changed significantly. Interaction is lower, and hate has unfortunately always made its home in these communities. Given I share fanfiction solely to share with the aforementioned communities, I found myself afraid that I would get hate messages. I was afraid I wouldn't have a community that would stand up for me if that were to happen. While it would never deter me from what I love, I was scared that friendships and positivity were long dead in this space. Fandom felt lonely.

You know what though? I have met wonderful person after wonderful person. And then I met you too. There you are, getting some of the most horrendous messages I've ever seen sent to another human being, and you continue to push for positivity - smiling and laughing with us about how much you just want to see people happy.

Then you went on to start share some of the wonderful messages you recieved throughout that ordeal, only to begin writing positive affirmations and thoughts for us. Once upon a time, I struggled to accept this sort of positivity, I will admit that. When I was having a rough time, I would often see messages like that as 'hollow' for a lack of better words. I would be angry or bitter that others could think like that when I struggled so much to feel like those words should have meant something to me.

While time has passed since I was that person, I still remember the feeling of hopelessness, yet that doesn't deter from the fact that people like you - and countless others - single handedly restored my faith in these communities.

People like you remind me why I cling to my ideals of treating everyone with kindness no matter what. To try to understand other people. To help others. These are all things that bring us closer together. People like you, @silva-daemonium, @fraugwinska, @macabr3-barbi3, @chrisemrysfics, @melodyonthewireless, @dewdropdinosaur, @xalygatorx, @kewpikayo, @jurijyuu, @jalicecookie, AND SO MANY MORE do so much to support those around you.

All of this came about because I wanted to say thank you for posting those short little messages of encouragment. I know that I have appreciated them. Sure, they might seem a little cheesy to me on a morning when I'm tired - but they really make me smile, and prepare me to tackle whatever the day gives.

You're the beating heart of positivity.

It's a fairytale ending to the horror stories I expected.

I know that other people will see this too, so I just wanted to wish everyone that sees this a relaxing morning, afternoon, evening - timezone in general! You're here, and you've worked hard to be here all this time. Everything you've needed to do to achieve that, you've done. That's huge. I'm so proud of everyone, and my DMs are always open to anyone who might be struggling or just wants to talk. I'll always aim to help my community in the same way that Vexi has demonstrated.

Love to you all, and again, thank you for your messages, Vexi!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Cirice, I honestly don’t have the words to fully capture how much your kindness means to me. You are truly one of the most thoughtful, beautiful souls I’ve ever had the honor to meet, and I can’t thank you enough for your words. Knowing that something I’ve done has made even a small impact on people like you is still so surreal to me. I’m just deeply grateful that you’re part of this community.

You and so many others are the reason why I’ve stayed here longer than in any other fandom. It’s been the most heartwarming experience. This community, especially people like you, has genuinely transformed my perspective on what fandoms can be: a space filled with compassion, creativity, and connection.

Thank you for sharing your story, for giving me (and others) a piece of your heart. I hope your words reach others, inspiring them to create, to feel they belong, and to understand how wonderful it is to be part of something like this. Knowing we’re all here together, finding meaning in these connections, it makes the world feel a little less lonely and a lot brighter. 💖

Also tagging the people that didn't get properly tagged because tumblr is broken: @dewdropdinosaur @xalygatorx @kewpikayo @jurijyuu @jailcecookie

[teaandinanity]

I love that I went on an hour long fetch quest today to try to get a package only to be told that there is no hold on our mail (then where the fuck IS all of it), the package was left at the mailbox 3 days ago (the tracking said that but I thought it was lying), and that if I don't have it it was probably stolen.

[cecoeur]

it's hell on earth to be heavenly them's the breaks, they don't come gently

[ineed-to-sleep]

*me immediately after going through a terrifying and traumatic experience* haha yeah I guess it was rough but I'm fine now like I'm totally chill. It was kinda funny actually if you think about it

[buwheal]

I try so hard to be nice. Seeing spamton so distressed makes me feel awful. I wanna reach through his screen, give him a hug and tell him it’ll be okay. But I’m nothing but a letter to him. Words on a screen he can easily ignore.

I want him to be happy, I want to whisk away every single bad ask and wrap spamton up in a blanket and give him the warmth and love he deserves. I really, really wish I could.

I suppose for now sending this will do. Thank you for the amazing stories, bu ❤️‍🩹 you’ve genuinely broken my heart for this poor man, I cannot wait to see more

But he hasn't. He doesn't ignore what you guys say. He really really cares about what you say, in fact. Easily ignorable, but he is paying attention. Anyways, thanks :-)

[sayakxmi]

Saiouma Puella Magi AU, but Kokichi takes Madoka's role and Shuichi takes Homura's.

For one, Kokichi's too naturally distrustful to just hear "I can grant you any wish :)" and not think ok where's the hook. So he just does what no one ever has & essentially interrogates Kyubey, so he knows it all even before he gets to make a contract. So, some of his classmstes are MGs & he won't become one himself BUT he still ends up tagging along to just protect them in his Kokichi ways. (Though I'm entertaining Kokichi lying about being a magical girl, because, well, it's Kokichi).

(I also got a small idea of Gonta being a magical girls and Kokichi originally tagging along him into labyrinths, Gonta also makes him a magic gun from the toy one he had, and at some point witches out & Kokichi manages to kill him with that gun. So he always has that spare Grief Seed on himself, bc it's still his best friend & he can't handle the idea of just giving it away or using it himself (he does anyway in the end).)

Shuichi prolly ends up being a new kid & it isn't like MadoHomu, the ppl who reach him first are Kaede & Kaito, classic. Kokichi's there, too, but he's his usual sus self. He's actually discouraging ppl from making a contract when they find out magic and miracles are real, which absolutely includes Shuichi. He's very vocal abt it, but he won't explain stutf, bc 1) he's a liar, so who'd believe him? and 2) he doesn't want them to witch out upon finding out the truth or, idk, murder everybody Mami-style.

Anyway, fast forward, bad things happen bingo & by the end of the run most charas are dead, there's Walpurgis nachting, and he makes his wish to bring back the ppl who died notably not as magical girls. Contract signed, he fights & fails, rip. I also thought it was similar to how he thought he could end the killing game by himself - he though he could finish Walpurgisnacht by himself, too. And he failed in both times. Whatevs.

Shuichi doesn't actually make his time travel wish for Ouma specifically, he wants to save all his friends. Timelines are messy esp at first bc he either tells then or it backfires or just makes himself look very sus bc he's trying not to tell them. He also realizes why Kokichi hadn't told anybody aby witches at some point, bc, yeah, it messes them a lot, assuming they believe it.

Still, Kokichi ends up one of the few people who are nearly always giving him a chance, not necessarily out of belief, but out of pragmatism - bro can stop time & knows the truth, that's just too useful. So they often work together & Shuichi grows closer to him but still we ain't there yet. But the thing is, Shuichi's time travel still makes Kokichi more & more powerful with each timeline, bc Shuichi usually goes back after Kokichi dies, so the universe figured out this guy's life's important. Anyway, another notable thing is the iconic Homura kills Madoka scene, but it's Saiouma with guest stars of Kaito & Maki. It's Walpy, it's not defeated yet, but the training trio are spent & just kinda accept their fate of turning into witches together. And then, boom, Kokichi appears & steals their Soul Gems for a sec & he's like did u know you can cleanse your Soul Gem with a darkened one? But it's a lie & he quickly tells them so, he just had a spare Grief Seed after cleansing his Soul Gem & he needs them to do some stuff. Shuichi can travel back in time & fix things, and Maki & Kaito are needed to fight Walpy here. He actually questions what happens to the timelines Shuichi leaves behin, and ofc he doesn't know. There's a chance they remain, so Kokichi needs Maki & Kaito to fight Walpy here.

Kaimaki leave, and Shuichi finally looks at Kokichi & realizes sth is Wrong. Kokichi struggles to hide how he's trembling & grimacing, and it's Kokichi, so obviously it must be extremely bad. Shuichi dreadfully realizes something worse, and he weakly asks Kokichi why aren't his wounds healing. And Kokichi just falls, laughing weakly, and Shuichi catches him & searches for his Soul Gem and, God, he knew it. It's nearly completely black. Kokichi laughs & admits he lied abt having two Grief Seeds, he only had one he never wanted to use. But they'll have the second one soon, so no need to worry. He asks Shuichi to maybe destroy his witch form as it's hatching, so he'll have the Grief Seed without any fighting… and he admits that he hates fighting, he hates this magical world and all its violence. He says that Kaito was right in calling him a coward, even here he just can't handle the idea of fighting any longer, he's so sorry. And Shuichi tells him he ISN'T a coward. He was scared, but he always followed everybody, trying to help, and when push came to shove he would always make a contract for the benefit of others rather than himself. He's a lot of things, but a coward isn't one. Kokichi actually tears up hearing that, and Shuichi promises he won't let him fight ever again, and especially he won't let him turn into a witch and hurt anybody, because he knows it's the last thing he's ever wanted. Even now he only accepts turning into a witch to help them fight to keep others safe. So Shuichi won't let him. Kokichi probably apologizes and thanks him and then he dies.

Keeping Kokichi from fighting starts off as a side quest that gains importance with time, bc it's something Shuichi won't compromise on (ah, trauma), which leads him to occassionally neglect others a bit, which makes them more likely to get hurt & ironically Kokichi more likely to make a contract, especially since he gets more powerful & Kyubey is more interested in him with each timeline. And that also makes him witch out super quick. Shuichi's paying more attention to him & over time grows resentful of others for how they're treating him. To Shuichi it's no question that Kokichi cares & is just doing his best to help, but nobody realizes that.

But the biggest obstacle in keeping Kokichi from fighting is actually Kokichi himself, bc he's too smart and nosy, lmao. Even if he knows nothing, he will find out quickly. Doesn't help that Kyubey wants him to make a contract.

Also, obviously Kaito is Sayaka-coded and Maki could be Kyouko-coded, so that's a thing, BUT it's usually Maki that witches out. Kaito is usually pretty close, but Kokichi intervenes & he survives, but Maki later cracks on her own (and since in the new timeline Kokichi isn't there, Kaito's the one to die, so he's still the secretary). So it's Kaito who gets the dramatic sacrifice. I imagine he genuinely hoped you could bring somebody back if you tried Very Hard & Kokichi called him a moron bc obviously it's not possible. If it was there'd be far less witches that there are. But it's Kaito, he doesn't listen to reason. So, Kokichi follows him to the labyrinth. At first Kaito's mad cuz what if Kokichi being there ruins the plan? Maki hates his guts! But eventually he gets hit pretty hard, and Kokichi is near immediately by his side, trying to help him get up, which kinda makes Kaito short circuit a little bc wait Kokichi's trying to help? But witch!Maki attacks them & Kokichi pushes Kaito away & gets caught himself (and choked until unconsciousness, naturally). Anyway, Kaito gets him away, Shuichi catches Kokichi & Kaito makes up his mind about going down with Maki & asks Shuichi to tell Kokichi that he's sorry. He doesn't get him, but he got hurt trying to protect him, so he'll believe in that if nothing else. F.

As for The WishTM, in the last timeline Shuichi lashes out at Kokichi for his willingness to just become part of the system. In no timeline has his wish actually helped, it did NOTHINHG, which OUCH but it also makes Kokichi think out of the box more & he becomes the Law of Cycles. And Shuichi realizes what is happening & freaks out bc Kokichi's doing it bc of what he told him & like Homura they end up having a momentTM in space & Shuichi remembers. He feels a lot of guilt even tho he also questions whether anything was real, but if it was, he pushed somebody he far too realized he loved into erasing himself from existence.

[monarchamos]

Fem Soukoku more like me and who

outfit refs under cut!

[captain-lovelace]