#plus. Whatever the fucks happening in life these past months

[aspenshadow]

the way that stress and trauma fucks with your body is nuts to me. Like your brain decides “wow do you know what else we can do besides cover ourselves in the Mental Gunk(tm)? Give you heart palpitations and chronic migraines”

[wintersera]

"so are you ovulating?" || ningning x succubus!reader

notes: i actually wrote this fairly quick, but finding the right pics for the moodbaoard actually pissed me off erm.. but first of all FIRST NINGNING FIC WE CHEERED (a/n i forgot to say this was a part two of the succubus!reader thing soooo here’s the link!)

cw: tail sex (kinda), succubus!reader, top!ning, bottom!reader, mentions of a singular man

wc: 4k

after the ‘feeding on your unnie’ incident that had happened a few months ago, your performance was phenomenal. with all that energy you gained from that one night, plus some extra other nights following from then with jimin unnie, it was as if your every move, every note and every emotion was amplified by tenfold. you were on fire and the audience could feel your passion for performance burning brightly with every stage you did.

your mentors and managers commented on how energetic you had been for the past couple of months, how your performances were absolutely phenomenal, the knetz weren’t on your ass - which was surprising since almost half of them were all the time. the western fans said that you were, quote on quote,“serving cunt” in the recent solo weverse live you did… whatever that meant. even your own members were surprised at how active you were throughought day and night. 

but like everything in life, things weren’t bound to stay all too well.

a few days ago you tripped on stage, and to make matters worse, it was in front of your fans. the audience heard a small little thud and spotted you on the ground looking at the ceiling for a few seconds before you stood up embarrassingly. luckily this was the first take, you had other opportunities to do your very best with the smidge of energy you had left. 

knowing your fans, particularly your stans - either they’d make a meme out of you spacing out on the floor, or, they’d spam hashtags all over twitter saying “SM PROTECT YOUR ARTIST” or something around those lines.

not only did that happen, but whilst you were preparing to record your lines in the studio, that familiar pain you would get whenever you were starved from energy came back ten times worse; it felt like you were being pierced in the stomach.

jimin noticed your pained expression and squeezed your shoulder in reassurance as she entered the recording room, but it kind of translated wrong in your head, causing you to moan out loud into the mic in front of your directors - not to mention you could hear yourself through the headphones echo. jimin chuckled lightly “what’s up with you?” then left the room a moment afterwords.

fast forward to the present day. a mundane and repetitive one. you had a photoshoot early in morning and a small meeting sometime in the afternoon and then you were free to do whatever you wanted afterwards. you thought that maybe some vocal lessons later in the evening would distract you, but you were pretty sure your vocal teacher was out with his husband drinking today. good on him, it buys you more alone time, and alone time makes you think about what to do about your situation. 

on to more pressing matters, aka your raging desire for sex. 

it randomly hit you hard while walking back from the company to your local seven eleven. you thought to distract yourself with buying a sweet treat for everyone, but instead you began to feel dizzy “ouh.. this isn’t good” there wasn’t a bunch of groupies following you around the block to your own misfortune, and it was still bright outside.so what was there to do about that urge?

it’s not like you could message jimin unnie out of the blue and ask to fuck. where was the decorum? plus you’re in the middle of promotions, what if you drain too much energy that she’s unable to perform the next day.

and it also didn’t help that your internal monologue was fucking you up.

“shit, do i just ask the manager to… NO- ew what the hell am i thinking? he’s way older than me. nevermind. why did i think about that jesus christ.” 

your options were slim. it was either wait for night, go to the practice rooms and prey on a cute trainee, with consent of course - or go ask jimin unnie again and risk exhausting her even though you just started promotions… 

you wondered who was at home right now.

you recalled ning going straight back home as soon as the meeting had finished. you could always ask? i mean she is your unnie after all, it wouldn’t hurt to ask to her. 

ah, but it would be awkward though. it’s not like when jimin unnie walked in on you tweaking out and then you had to shamefully ask her to “help you out”. either way you had to go home and do something about it. being out in the open wouldn’t be good for you anyway. anymore stress and you could lose your mind, probably going out of your way to do something that would be highly illegal, and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

–

on the way home you couldn’t suppress your excitement. you had already made up your mind to ask ning if you could, you know, do something nasty. multiple scenes were made up in your head. she could bend you over the table, press you against the wall and limit your restrictions with her pretty hands, or maybe she could shove your head into the pillow and pound into your desperate pussy.

as opposed to jimin, you never caught ning wound up in her own thoughts, nor staring at you in a sexual manner. whether it was pracitce, a stage, any event with the members, or an upcoming show, you had never caught her once. maybe she did look at you while you were dancing promiscuously as a joke. even so, her expressions were so nonchalant that even if she was, you would never be able to tell… though that thought alone excited you even more. who knows what her pretty little head was thinking about.

although jimin said to tell the other members about who you actually were to prevent you from being too awkward to ask your members for help, you refrained from doing so because well… you’re just like that, what else. how were you gonna do it anyway- hold a meeting in your apartment around the dining table and say that you need sex to stay active and alive? then what, they’ll eagerly accept the fact that you literally need to be inside of them, or vice versa, so you can get up on stage and preform as if it was a regular ass day.

those five minutes you spent daydreaming and thinking about telling your members were stopped abruptly by the door in front of you. when did the walk home become so quick.

then you started to think once again. 

would ning be the type of person to go out of their way to help you? yes she’s that type of person, however, does that mean she would willingly want to have sex with you… god, you don’t know her ‘that’ well. you’re close, close as how close a lifetime friend could ever be, but still, things would be weird if she ultimately says no to your request.

“you’ve been staring at the door for an awfully long time y/n. are you coming inside or do you want to stare at the door a little longer?”

fresh out of the shower, yizhuo greets you with a friendly smile followed by a giggle. her towel sticking against her body showing off the curves of her hips. 

oh fuck, why does she have to be wearing that now. 

“did you just finish showering? also, girl… get back inside. what if someone sees you with just a towel on” the aroma of your shampoo wafted through the air “you smell good…” you all were tight on money this month, so you all shared things like perfumes, shampoos, pretty much all products you and the other members owned. each time either one of your members had applied your shampoo, god, you had such perverse thought about them, wanting to ravage them until they couldn’t walk or even stand

“yeah i ran out of mine- and yours was newly opened so you know” she had been looking way too good recently, not saying that she never did look good, but there was something about her that made you feel extra desperate and needy. the wetness between your thighs spoke for themselves

“let’s go in. i need to talk to you quickly before my brain explodes” yizhuo cocked her head in confusion, reluctantly following your lead, closing the door behind her as you walked into your guys’ apartment. 

you followed behind her as she led you to your shared bedroom, looking up because you didn’t want to turn yourself on even more by staring at her ass “wow, the ceiling looked nice. a pretty beige colour… what the hell am i doing” you thought to yourself with a heavy sigh, looking back down and regretting it immediately. you noticed that yizhuo turned around as you locked eyes with the front of her cream coloured bath towel.

as perceptive as yizhuo was, she noticed a little black swish behind your back. she just played it off, too tired from all the practice, so she thought she was hallucinating a tail or something of the sorts.

now, being both the youngest and the least serious members of the group, you rarely ever had a heart to heart. to talk one to one with each other with the tone you had used, yizhuo must’ve thought that there was some topic you couldn’t bring up with the eldest “hey what’s up? it’s been a while since we last talked seriously” her damp hair against her soft looking skin, the fresh scent of soap and the way she looked at you with worry in her eyes. it almost drove you off the edge. she was so tantalising that you almost missed your cue to speak.

“uh- um, you know how we’ve been besties since i came to korea right?”

“yes”

“and you know we said that we’d always tell each other anything right?” you glanced around the room, avoiding her gaze while your fingers unconsciously played with the fabric of her bedsheets.

“yes…?” ning pondered for a while “…are you going to confess your undying love for me, is that what this is?” she cackled.

“WHAT? no, no- i think that might be less shocking than what i’m about to say” you take a deep breath in hopes to stifle the sound emitting from your booming heartbeat “okay so like, hypothetically speaking, would you have sex with any of the four of us?” for a god awful few seconds you sat tensely, waiting for yizhuo to say something. 

“are you trying to redirect my attention from a more important question girl?” her eyes rested on your face, heartily laughing until she released you were being totally serious. 

scratching your arm, you let out a sigh. it would be better to ask her directly wouldn’t it “you don’t need to analyse me like that. i was just saying-”

you could charm her into agreeing, but in the long run you’d feel like a horrible person. charming a person came with moral problems, and you strictly told yourself that you would never do that to a person. ever.  

“yizhuo… can we- can you do me a favour?” your stuttering caught her attention. you simply couldn’t bring yourself to ask, it’s strange out of the blue. 

“mhm mhm, what do you need”

“you”

“me?”

“yes.” with every fibre of your being you held back a variety of different ways to scream out ‘JUST FUCK ME’ biting your lip to help fight back a blush. it’s odd to blurt out ‘im a succubus. let’s have crazy passionate intimate gay sex right here right now’ 

hold on- does she even know you’re a succubus? “listen, it’s going to sound absurd and you probably think i’m not sober, but can you hear me out” it was still weird to outwardly say that you were in fact this demon thing that sucks people dry, literally. saying it to jimin was no easy feat, but you were obviously losing your damn mind that day. and then you have the other two members too? now was not the time to think about what you’d do in the near future, you were hungry and yizhuo was right in front of you, practically naked “are you, by any chance, okay with maybe” your gaze darted around the room before you locked eyes with her “maybe having… sex? maybe?”

“ohhh, okay i see how it is. you’re ovulating” she spoke with a dead serious tone.

you were losing your mind. you couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you or not. but in all honesty, yizhuo did think you looked like you were ovulating with the way your thighs pressed together. yup, ovulating.

your heart began to race as you increasingly became desperate within seconds. you felt feverish, hot to the touch while your head throbbed. almost a whole two months without tending to your needs ended up with you succumbing to the symptoms “please yizhuo. i need you to do something, anything- i feel like i’m gonna die actually” 

“woah woaah, let’s calm down. you’re not gonna die silly. is it just-“ yizhuo paused for a while, coughed and maybe even hesitated to say the word “sex. is that all? it can’t be too bad. plus if it’s with you, i don’t mind…” yizhuo’s words were genuine. it put your mind at ease. 

“you don’t understand though. it’s like… it- i don’t know” you pout at her with the remaining energy left in your body “it’s alright- i’ll ask other people, it’ll be okay” sluggishly pushing yourself off yizhuo’s bed.

“no no, i get it. you wanna relieve stress, i get it” from what you could understand, yizhuo was trying her absolute best, trying to relate with your problem “we’ve all been there. the company doesn’t allow us to go out and meet other idols like that so it was eventually gonna happen. i mea-“

“it’s not about that, yizhuo” your eyes darken, a desperate sigh emitting from your lips “ah, whatever…” with trembling hands, you held yizhuo’s in yours, momentarily silencing her as you sit back down on top of the smooth sheets of her bed “if you’re not okay with doing ‘this’, then will a kiss be okay?” there was a hint of softness to your voice, the rest shrouded with seriousness “it won’t be enough for me, but it’ll keep me… sort of stable” you shut your eyes as you press your forehead against hers, sharing the warmth “please, that’s all i ask for” 

she whispered “a kiss? i can do that. it seems fun.”ning, inches away from kissing you, smiled sheepishly. her gaze drifted briefly towards your lips before finally shutting her eyes  “and if it’s with you i think i’ll be okay”  

you took this as your opportunity to kiss her softly on the lips. a quick peck really. a surge of energy coursed through your veins for half a second before coming to a stop.

that’s all the energy you’ll take from her, and the most you’ll take for the next couple of days “mmm… thank you yizhuo” though it was a sweet couple of seconds before it broke off, the sweetness of her lips left a longing impression on you.

yizhuo asked for “one more kiss?” growing in confidence, she leaned into another, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into your embrace. though you were unsure, you gave into the moment, savouring her delicate lips. her fingers tentatively reached for your shirt, grabbing you and pulling you in closer. as the kiss intensified, yizhuo’s hands journeyed down your back, directly pushing down so your chests were pressed together “do whatever you want…” her breath hitched as you trailed down kisses from her jaw down to her neck, taking the time and effort to not accidentally leave a huge hickey there. you replied by pushing her back onto the bed, the loose towel that wrapped around body fell apart easily, exposing yizhuo’s pretty tits. she paid no mind, letting you do whatever you pleased. 

“god, you’re so pretty” you climbed onto the bed, straddling yizhuo’s waist as you carefully removed your t-shirt. 

she burned holes through your face, why was she staring so hard all of a sudden? “how are your eyes are pink, y/n” taken aback, she sits up and examines your face. she raised her hand and waved it in front of you “is this thing real?” tilting her head in confusion. 

“it is real- mmh?” a jolt shoots right up through your spine and then down to your core out of nowhere. ning held your sleek black tail, rubbing her fingers against the weird leathery texture, caressing and prodding at your poor flimsy, slightly erect(?) tail, as you let out a soft sigh. “yizhuo…” you mewl pathetically “that- that feels weird”

“does it now?” her tongue darted out, licking the centre of your heart shaped tail with the ever so subtle tug at the corner of her lips “sensitive much” a couple more licks and kisses to your tail and you were pretty much done for. 

time to time you forget that you have some sort of libido increasing, aphrodisiac power. the kiss you two shared may have affected her. well it definitely did. the increase of confidence radiating from the older girl was way different in comparison to her usual self. cause by now you’d expect her to be a little more gentle with you.

flipping positions, yizhuo held you down with her two hands with a devilish look on her face “if it’s sex you want, then i’ll make sure to fuck you till your begging for me to stop” her hand travelled down your tail, stroking it as if she was stroking your dick. never before had someone do something like that to your tail, but my god did it feel so fucking good.

she toyed with it, prodded and poked the tip of it and sucked it with her pretty pink and plump lips. the other hand cupped your chest, fondling over your boobs to get a feel for her own satisfaction “i could get used to this…” being on top of you, she had the advantage to do whatever she desired, and also because you were too weak to move at all “what do you want y/n? want me to fuck you with my tongue or my fingers. you choose”

you chose the latter.

throwing your head back onto the fluffed up pillows, yizhuo waisted no time and went to her destination. not one, but two fingers pushed deep inside of your pussy, stretching you out so good. her lustfully hooded eyes looked down at you, absorbing in the expressions of your pleasure contorted face “how’s it feel? want me to add another for you baby?” 

unable to answer her question with words, you nod eagerly, wanting nothing but her fingers to fill you up. so she did, adding in a third finger since you asked to cutely with that nod of yours. now knuckles deep inside, that same devilish grin spread across her face. you unconsciously buck your hips up, smiling wearily at yizhuo “so.. so deep” your moans urged her to immediately start moving. she started out nice and slow, curling her fingers at different intervals to squeeze out those lovely moans of yours. every thrust, she explored your spongy walls, testing out the waters to see which place hit the best for you. then as time went by, she gradually built up her pace until she came to her desired speed.

three fingered merciselessly pounded hard into your tight cunt, your juices leaking and dripping onto yizhuo’s bedsheets, and the sounds of your wetness leaving the chinese girl in awe. noticing the way your hips began to meet with her speed, her hand that played with your tail slowly slided towards them, holding you down by the stomach “let me do all the work” driven by your moans, she leans down to press a hungry kiss on your lips, then leaving a hot trail of kisses down from your neck and onto your perky nipples.

swirling around the hardened bud on your chest, a guttural moan catches her attention “you like it when i suck on your tits, huh?” her thumb pressed against your swollen clit as she muttered those words, all the while still paying attention to your sensitive tits. she enjoyed the way you tried to wriggle your hips in attempts to move them, and how your hands clutched the sheets with pure desperation. she felt hazy, maybe a little bit tipsy somehow, but all she wanted to do was fuck you until you were screaming her name.

as her fingers continued to slide against your walls, hitting the right spots at an intense speed, you felt a knot form in your stomach. you were so desperate for relief, needing to buck your hips into her palm to get that sweet friction you felt on your clit, but she didn’t allow you to do that; her hand still resting on your stomach to stop you from squirming “yi-yizhuo~” you whined, teary eyes staring at her with a pitiful look “please yizhuo.. r-rub my clit please~”

and who was she to deny you.

though she didn’t do exactly what you wanted, she did something way more better. moving away from your nipples, she lowered herself down onto the bottom of her bed to shove her face right between your thighs. tongue darting out her mouth, she gives a few kitten licks on your clit, savouring the sweet essence of your pussy for a starter. those tiny kitten licks turned into something much more. the tip of her tongue circled against your heat, occasionally wrapping her lips around to give you a quick suck before continuing to lap your soaked folds up to your sensitive clit. 

the stimulation drove your crazy. you never knew that yizhuo was so skilled at this. still thrusting those three fingers inside of your now pulsating cunt, at the hot and wet kisses and licks she left on your clit, she knew - and you knew, that you were on the verge of toppling over the edge. but it wasn’t enough for her “is that good, hm? does my needy baby want me to fuck her harder?” yizhuo somehow had the strength to speed up, fucking your hole as she moans at how well you’re taking her. 

those words vibrated from your core and sent shivers across your spine, leaving goosebumps all over your skin - in which also made you clench around her fingers. 

fuck, it was way too damn good. you felt your legs shaking, jaw opening wide, stomach tightening and that course of hot pleasure travelling through your entire nervous system “close- close yizhuo.. don’t stop” your words came out slurred, a few unintelligible praises and swears being ripped out of the back of your throat as you felt yourself on the edge. 

with one final deep and hard thrust, your jaw slacked open as your orgasm was pulled out from your body, legs twitching and spasming as you repetitively screamed out yizhuo’s name alongside even more praises. for a minute your body fell limp against the bed, exhausted from the mind blowing orgasm yizhuo gave you, and also from the built up stress you had from promotions.

now full of the sexual energy you gained from yizhuo, you spring upwards, patting yizhuo’s head gently “t-thank you… i feel refreshed…” 

the older girl finally sat up after she cleaned you up. wiping her face and chin from the juices that dripped all the way down, she flashed you a smile “with that tail of yours, and those pink eyes, you’ve got to be a succubus… right? to answer her question, you nodded, cheeks red from her straightforwardness. 

“y-yeah. you’re right… wanna go again?”

“only if i bottom next”

[seungkw1]

mine — jww

♡ pairing: boyfriend!wonwoo x afab!reader ♡ theme: fluff, smut [18+ mdni], non-idol au ♡ wc: 2.6k ♡ warnings: swearing, size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, dacryphilia, petnames (m. & f. receiving - babe, baby), reader is gender neutral but referred to as girlfriend once, gr8 aftercare ofc ♡ a/n: this is a part two to so fucking pretty but you don’t have to read that one first :)

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

You wouldn’t consider yourself a very romantic person, but your boyfriend’s Valentine’s Day surprise might just change your mind about that.

You’ve never given a single shit about Valentine’s Day. It’s not so much that you hate it or anything, but rather indifference - you simply couldn’t care less. Just another capitalistic holiday for companies to profit off of, right? Plus, red and pink is simply a godawful color combination. So yeah, you’ve never given a shit. 

That is - until you met Wonwoo. 

You’ve dated here and there over the years, but nothing ever too serious - all of your partners either turned out to be lousy or the relationships were just bland. So, all of them ended, and you were never too upset about it. 

But with Wonwoo, everything is different. You’ve only been dating for three months, but your relationship is the complete opposite of lousy or bland. Wonwoo is warm and loving - squeezing you in his arms and giving you kisses every chance he gets. He is caring and kind - listening to you talk no matter whether you needed to vent or just wanted to infodump about your interests. He is sweet and gentle - leaving you cute notes and surprising you with little gifts just because.

He is also incredibly fucking hot, and an absolute god in the bedroom.

You fucked him on the first date, which is very unlike you, but your chemistry was undeniable and it just happened naturally. That was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life - and every time since then has also been the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. You’d be an absolute fool not to stick around.

And so, Wonwoo became your boyfriend. You’ve always found that term to be a bit juvenile, so historically you’ve just referred to your significant other as your partner. But every time you think about Wonwoo you feel the urge to giggle and kick your feet in the air, so the term boyfriend simply feels right. You’re practically head over heels for the man. 

“Ooooo you’re so in love with him,” your best friend teased as you were gushing about your boyfriend for the nth time. 

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes as you replied. Maybe you’re a bit jaded from your mediocre past relationships, but the phrase in love is not one you throw around lightly. 

But deep down, you know it’s true. You’re in love with Wonwoo.

But you’re not ready to admit that to anybody. So you keep it to yourself. You’ll cross that bridge when you get there.

That day arrives much sooner than you anticipate.

—

February rolls around. It’s the dead of winter, arguably the most boring time of year. Your mind is preoccupied with the job interview you have coming up, and you’ve been a bit stressed about it. Wonwoo has been nothing but supportive and helpful - giving you advice, offering to help you practice, cleaning your apartment for you of his own free will - and you are more than grateful to have him around. 

One particularly cold Saturday morning, you wake up to a text from Wonwoo. 

Good morning beautiful! Text me when you’re awake 😊

You smile sleepily as you reply. 

Good morning babe 💖 I’m awake!

The chat bubble pops up as he begins to reply immediately. 

Great! Can you be ready by 11am? I have a surprise for you 😁

A surprise?

Y/N: Oooh, what kind of surprise? WW: It’s a secret 😉 Y/N: Hmm 🤔 Okay... What should I wear though?  WW: Wear whatever you want, you look cute in everything! Y/N: Hehe okayyyy WW: Perfect, I’ll pick you up at 11! See you soon 😊

You hop out of bed and start to get ready, practically dancing around your apartment. You open your closet and stare at your clothes, trying to decide what to wear - which proves to be hard when you don’t know where you’re going. You end up grabbing the cozy light blue sweater Wonwoo complimented you on when you wore it a couple weeks ago, and a cute pair of jeans to match. You’re putting on your heeled boots when you hear the knockknockknock of somebody at the door. You open the door to see your boyfriend, looking incredibly handsome in his dark coat and black-rimmed glasses. He extends to you a bouquet of a dozen red roses.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says with a soft smile. 

As you take the bouquet Wonwoo pulls you in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. As your lips part you look at him, an inquisitive look on your face.

“But it’s not Valentine’s Day yet,” you tell him.

“I know,” he replies as he gives you a little kiss on your nose. “But I couldn’t wait.”

You feel a huge smile color your face. 

“So, where are we going?” 

—

The waitress sets a massive plate of the fanciest waffles you’ve ever seen in front of you. You start to salivate at the sight of the fresh berries and cream heaping on top.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned the bougie brunch place you’ve always wanted to try, but it was expensive and the wait was always way too long. Turns out Wonwoo immediately called and made a reservation for you two.

You go to dig into your waffles when you notice your boyfriend holding his phone up, taking photos of you.

“Hey! Stop that,” you say as you playfully try to grab his phone.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You just look so pretty.”

He looks at you adoringly. You pout, feigning annoyance, and he snaps another picture - making you laugh. There’s no way you can be mad at him, he’s simply too sweet.

After the decadent meal Wonwoo walks you back to his car, holding your hand, and insists upon opening the car door for you - even helping you take off your coat. It’s silly, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

Wonwoo starts driving, but in the opposite direction of your home.

“Where are we going now?” you inquire.

“Remember how you said you’ve never been ice skating?”

“Oh god,” you groan. “Can’t wait to make a complete fool of myself.”

“You won’t,” he insists. “You can hold onto me.”

“But you’ve never been ice skating either,” you point out. “How do you know you’re not gonna fall too?”

Wonwoo smiles. “Then we’ll fall together.”

You scoff playfully, but a grin also appears on your face.

Ice skating ends up being a disaster. Neither one of you can stop falling (it doesn’t help that you refuse to stop holding hands, so when one of you falls both of you go down), but you also can’t stop laughing - to the point where your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You haven’t had fun like this in ages.

You look over at your boyfriend. He is extraordinarily cute right now, his cheeks rosy from the cold air. Wonwoo catches you looking at him and leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek - he then immediately runs into the wall. You let out a giggle - he looks back at you sheepishly.

“Maybe you should pay attention to where you’re going,” you tease as you nudge him with your elbow.

“Hard to do so when my beautiful girlfriend is right next to me, distracting me.” His tone mirrors your playfulness, but the way he’s looking at you - you can tell he means it.

You roll your eyes, but a huge smile lights up your face as you wrap your arm around his, squeezing him tightly. 

On the drive back Wonwoo suggests you go to his place, to which you happily agree. Before you enter, he tells you to close your eyes.

“No peeking!” he insists.

“I won’t!” you swear, placing your hands over your eyes. 

You walk through the front door and wait in the entryway, resisting peeking as promised. You hear Wonwoo fiddling with things for a minute, and then you hear the opening notes of your favorite album - the sound emanating from his record player.

“Okay, you can look now,” he tells you as he once again is standing right next to you. You remove your hands, opening your eyes to the sight of Wonwoo’s dim apartment - illuminated only by the dozen of freshly-lit candles placed around the living room. In his hands are the biggest box of chocolates you’ve ever seen, and a cute fuzzy teddy bear that’s holding a heart with Be mine embroidered on it.

“Oh my god, you really went all out,” you remark, smiling from ear to ear as your heart practically flutters in your chest.

“Only the best for you, babe.”

He sets down the chocolates and the bear, stopping to help you out of your coat before drawing you into his embrace, kissing you softly and slowly. He then takes your hands in his, pulling you toward the hallway.

“There’s one more surprise,” he tells you.

Before you can ask him what more he could possibly surprise you with, you see the trail of rose petals down the hallway, leading into his bedroom.

“You did NOT,” you exclaim as you laugh, truly bewildered at the sight of it.

You follow the trail as he pulls you into his room, where even more petals lay on the bed, perfectly forming the shape of a heart.

“It’s so beautiful I almost don’t want to ruin it,” you proclaim.

Wonwoo raises his eyebrow at you.

“Hey, I said almost.”

Without a word he smiles, pulling you in so he can grab the hem of your sweater, gently pulling it over your head to reveal the lacy bra you had chosen to wear today.

“So pretty,” he remarks as he runs his hands over your breasts, before reaching around your back to undo the clasp. “But even prettier without.”

He tosses the bra aside, taking your tits in his hands. You begin to undo his shirt buttons, revealing his incredibly toned body that still turns you on so much every time you see it. His shirt gone, you move to his belt. You unbuckle it and pull it off, throwing it to the floor as you take the bulge in his pants in your palm. He lets out a soft groan as you caress him, his erection quickly growing. You go to unfasten his pants, the taut fabric giving way as you undo the zipper, his cock now bulging through his underwear, begging to escape. 

Wonwoo suddenly grabs you by the hips, twirling you around and pushing you onto the bed. 

“Get comfy, babe.”

As you recline into the soft pillows, he removes his pants and then begins to take off yours, pulling them off of you in one go. He gently pushes your inner thighs open and situates himself right in between your legs, the only barrier between his face and your cunt being the thin lacy underwear that do nothing to hide how wet you are right now. He softly kisses your clit a few times, then licks a stripe over the sheer fabric. You run your hand through his hair as he starts kissing your clit again, this time more intensely. You begin to squirm slightly against his face - silently begging for more. Wonwoo gazes up at you, giving you a little smirk as his lips hover right above you - so close that you feel breath against your core.

“Stop teasing meeee,” you whine.

You feel his finger slide under the fabric, pulling it aside to reveal your soaked center. You feel the sharpness of the cool air hitting you, followed by the warmth of Wonwoo’s mouth against your cunt. You mewl softly as his tongue traces against your folds, lapping up your juices but only making you wetter in the process. You continue to stroke his hair as he goes down on you, enjoying the view. You love the way his nose brushes against your clit as he alternates between sucking on the bud and fucking you with his tongue. 

Eventually you feel his fingers delicately graze your entrance - he inserts only one finger at first, but it still feels so good. 

“More,” you beg. “Please.”

Wonwoo slides a second finger into your cunt. He knows how to curve them perfectly, hitting you in just the right spot to drive you insane. He fucks you as he continues licking your clit - you become a moaning mess as your orgasm draws closer and closer. Your hips begin to buck involuntarily, grinding your cunt against his face - overwhelmed with pleasure. Wonwoo wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you down against the bed as he devours you. 

“Fuck, baby - I’m cumming,” you cry out. Your legs shake as the incredible sensation takes over your entire body, the white-hot flashes of pleasure flowing through you as your pussy throbs against your boyfriend’s tongue. 

As you come down, Wonwoo gives you soft little kitten licks. You sink into the pillows, your whole body relaxed in bliss. He kisses your stomach before crawling up, his body weight laying against you cozily as he presses his nose against yours. He kisses you, his lips and chin covered in your juices. You begin to make out, his tongue moving against yours, his bulge pressing against your core. You reach down, slipping your hand through the band of his underwear, and pull his cock out. You’ve fucked your boyfriend countless times by now, but every time you’re still in awe of his size. You wrap your hand around his thickness and stroke him a few times, causing precum to leak out. You guide his tip to your entrance - you moan as it easily slips in, his size stretching you out so perfectly. He slides his entire length into you, letting out a groan as he bottoms out. 

“Your pussy’s so perfect for me, babe,” he says in a low voice. He begins to fuck you, slowly pushing his cock in and out, letting your walls adjust to his size. 

“So good baby, fuck,” he says, practically growling. “Your pussy’s all mine.”

You moan as he picks up speed, thrusting his huge cock into you further and further. His lips meet yours again - your mouths and tongues dancing against each other as he fucks you, more passionately than ever before. 

“All mine, you’re all mine.”

“Oh my god,” you cry, tears forming in your eyes from the intense pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“I’m close baby - wanna cum in you,” he groans. 

“Please,” you beg. 

Wonwoo’s rhythm picks up speed - tears are fully running down your face as you let out cries of pleasure. You feel his cock pulsate against your walls as he releases, groaning as he thrusts into you, filling you up with his cum. 

As he comes down from his high, his warm body melts into yours - he’s squishing you, but you’ve never been more comfortable. His cock still inside you, he plays with your hair as he kisses you slowly. 

You lay there together for a while. Eventually, Wonwoo slowly pulls out of you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before he gets up to grab a warm towel. After he cleans you up he plops back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in, squeezing you so tightly it makes you giggle. 

You draw your head back just enough so you can look your boyfriend in the eyes. He’s so hot, so cute, gazing at you so lovingly - you truly don’t think you’ve ever been happier than you are in this moment. 

“I love you,” you tell him - for the first time. 

You didn’t plan on saying it, it just came out naturally. Because it’s true - you love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone. 

Wonwoo smiles, caressing you softly as he holds you warmly against him. 

“I love you too.”

[end] 

[senseichaos]

Hey, same anon asking about yandere stuff. I'm so glad to hear!! Of course if you want to, may I please request yandere Vox with the reader? Like how they try to run from him? Perfectly fine with it being a female reader as I am one. And I don't mind how you write it. Do whatever you please! I love seeing others' interpretation of the characters 🖤 No rush!

YOU CAN'T RUN. HELL, YOU CAN'T HIDE EITHER.

thank you lovely anon! I love the concept of Yandere Vox! Hope this is good :) let me know your thoughts in another ask if you'd like! Lots of love!

Summary: Vox doesn't often fall in love often, no. Well that was until you came around- and you wanted a job with Valentino of all people? No. That would never fly with him. He'd make you work with him instead, like an intern or something? Hell, anything to make you stay near him. Anything to get him as close to you as possible.

Genres: Angst with a small amount of sexuality

NOT PROOF READ (yet)

Warnings/Tags: Yandere Vox, Insecurity, Reader is naive, manipulation, mind control, exploitation, creepy behavior, masking, contractual agreements, reader lacks hell experience, Vox is violent, Vox lacks empathy, angst, swearing, overall kinda depressing (LET ME KNOW IF MISSING ANY)

Pt 2

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You can't believe your eyes when you step into that tower, the pink glass adorning the outsides making your eyes shimmer. You have a job interview with Valentino today, after waiting for (probably too long) to get a job somewhere.

You see, hell worked slightly differently to earth. Where things in earth worked in a more of a 'work and make work' sort of way, Hell is more 'work, make work, and fight'

You'd managed for the past months to live in a small apartment that happened to be owned by someone who got killed in an extermination. It wasn't your plan to impersonate a sinner and squat in their home, but you have to get by somehow, right?

Well- it also wasn't your plan to be a porn star. But no where else seemed to want to take you. You're small, too weak to be taken by anyone else. People on the street told you that you were made for the screen, that your body was perfect. Some even tried to pay you copious amounts of cash just for you to suck them off. And you hate it.

At least the elevator of the building is cozy.

Vox on the other hand was having the best day of his life: or in his definition, a day where Valentino doesn't have a stupid breakdown that Vox doesn't have to solve.

He loves to watch his people as they indulge in his technology, he loves to watch everyone become obsessed with him and his media, he loves to be in control of all of these people. He'll watch every screen around him with focus, taking in their reactions as he bottle feeds them content.

Could he be with his boyfriend, Val? Yes. Does he want to? Hell no. He doesn't love Val. Plain and simple in his eyes. He has Valentino to get his business along. To make him more powerful. He'll do what he has to to be the most powerful he can be. Even if it means toying with people around him.

Val doesn't think he's capable of falling in love with anyone in this horrible underworld he inhabits. Everyone here is fucked. he is fucked. Plus, he doesn't know anyone here who he'd connect with anyway.

Or well that's what he did think until right now. There is a girl in the central elevator that looks awfully out of place, causing Vox to turn the entirety of his attention onto her. She looks like a regular old sinner, yes- but still she stands it like a sore thumb against the few people also in the central elevator. Where everyone's boring physique was her own enticing one stands. Where everyone else's two tone personalities stand her own colorful and bright one shimmer in his 2-D irises.

And then comes that odd feeling in his chest, this weird bubbling feeling of emotions that causes his eyes to tear up ever so slightly. This feeling, it's addicting. He wants to grind her up into a smoothie and drink her up, making the feeling sit there forever.

Something is wrong with him: he thinks.

With bated breath vox looked at the floor the elevator was approaching, figuring out where the girl is exactly going. There are only few reasons a sinner shows up at V tower anyway: to get a job with Valentino, or to turn yourself in if you'd wronged them. The elevator number reads '10'. She's going up to the business floor where Valentino currently is.

A sudden twist finds its way into his stomach, a horrible twist that makes his head burn with anger. Who does Val think he is? Having a girl such as her working for him. He. Couldn't let this happen, no no no no no no no. Why would he even want to exploit such a girl? She's supposed to be loves and cherished for everything she is.

The only reason she'd want to work with Val is because she has no other thing to do. He needs to offer her a job- or something to keep her from giving herself away to Valentino. Something to keep her as close to him as possible- like an intern or an assistant or anything.

Anything: Vox thinks.

Not often is Vox so reckless, not often at all. He likes to think he's decorum and well-adjusted. Likes to think he's a figure of this time. Of his time.

But right now, all he wants is this beautiful fucking girl to look at him in his eyes. Is it selfish? To want something so bad you feel like you could to horrible things to get it? Probably. But this is hell. And as an overlord of hell he can take what he wants. For once he doesn't care.

--- 666 ---

You take a step from the elevator, looking around the rather nauseating long and rounded hallway with squinted eyes. You can barely remember where you're supposed to be going anymore. You're supposed to meet Val inside one of these many, many studios. But soon enough as you start to venture through the halls on light, unsure steps you find yourself unable to read the words and numbers on each door.

Something is wrong, and you're unable to focus. There's this buzzing sound in your ears, a very faint but obvious buzzing that's causing your brain to go fuzzy. You can't feel your body anymore, it's just walking down the hallway in painful circles.

Suddenly that tether in your brain snaps with a loud crack, and your face to face with a television. You're still standing, in this long hallway, but now you're looking into the dark eyes of a TV screen. Wait- Eyes?

"Oh, Hello there sinner, are you looking for Valentino?" He asks, voice weirdly distant yet close all at the same time. His smile is large, almost devilish looking as he stares down at you.

You feel on edge, and your head still has a very faint buzzing lining itself.

"Oh, erm, Yeah.. I can't seem to recall what room-" You flinch as he hooks an arm around your neck walking you down the hallway once again with a smirk. There's a weird edge to him that you can't pin down, this whole interaction almost seems.. forced? Oh, there you go again, putting labels on things. Stop overthinking!

"Don't worry your pretty head about it! I'll take you to him," he says, unhooking his arm from your shoulder; only for him to rather sensually drag his hand across your shoulder blades until it's claws barely rest against your shoulder.

"But you know," Vox begins, swinging himself around so he stands in front of you, hands resting on either of your shoulders. You have to stop yourself from bumping into his chest. "You don't have to work for him." He says, his voice turning slightly more TV like and distant as he speaks.

"What do you mean..?" You ask, pushing his hand off of your shoulder with a painful twist of butterflies. A type of butterflies that you can't understand.

"Well, you seem like the type of gal to enjoy.." he looks you up and down, moving his hands from your shoulders as he grins. "Taking orders," you tilt your head at his words, confused. He shakes his head to himself, looking away for a moment with a slight frown before staring back, smiling brightly.

"No, I mean that you could be my assistant! You can.." He thinks for a moment, tapping the bottom of his screen as if it were his chin. He shrugs, smiling awkwardly with furrowed brows. "Bring me drinks and such! C'mon.."

He leans down to your level again, looking into your eyes. You suddenly feel that wave of disorientation go through you again, the only thing seeming to make sense to you being.. Vox.

"You don't want to be exploited by him, do you?" He says, and you feel his screen radiating heat on your skin. The buzzing becomes more loud as he goes on, all you seem to be able to hear being his words as they drip from his vile tongue. "C'mon dear, He'll break you."

"And you don't want to be broken, Right?"

He is right. You don't want to be broken by Valentino. You don't want to be exploited. But you don't have any other choice-

Until now, that is. You have an opportunity.

You should take it, right?

The headache and buzzing dissipate, taking a chunk of your psyche along with it. You feel your feet begin to give out beneath you from the exertion, lacking balance as you wobble softly. Not wanting to faceplant into the carpet, you reach out to something, anything to hold you. It just so happens to be Vox's chest, grasping onto the fabric of his coat as you begin to slip down to the floor.

"Hey, Hey, it's okay, What's got you out of sorts?" He asks, grasping you by your waist as he lifts you back to your feet. You blink, looking around for a moment with a nervous breath. Those butterflies, again. You hate them.

"I- uh.. I dunno.." You say stutter, pushing yourself away and scratching that back of your neck.

"You're feeling better?" Vox says, dipping his lids as he tilts his head rather attractively.

You nod, looking down at the ground with a nervousness inside of you.

"Good, good.." he turns away, looking at the ground and pacing for a short amount of time "good.." he says softly to himself, turning back around and clasping his hands together as he grins.

"Now how about you follow me and we can get you set up, yeah?" He says, pressing his hand against the space between your shoulder blades as he turns back to the elevator. You look up at him, and for a moment he seems to be in his own world. At least he is until you speak.

"So what's your name, Mister?" You ask, fiddling your fingers against each other nervously. He grins, lids upturning with the smile as well. He leans down again, poking a blue claw on your cheek as buzzing blurs your brain.

"It's Vox, my dear," He says, and your brain goes soft and mushy with an emotion you cannot describe. It feels as though he's making you melt.

"Keep that in your head for me, will you princess?" He asks softly, pulling his claw up the side of your face with a manic grin.

With a sudden movement he pulls away, shrugging his hands.

"Now darling, let's get back to it, shall we?"

Something is off, and part of you wants more of it.

--- 666 ---

Mister Vox's office is large in size, walls lined with screens displaying different things across the entirety of the pride ring. You wonder what Vox may do here all day, seeing the singular seat between it all that doesn't even seem that cozy.

You assume he watches, broadcasts, does meeting, and.. does what he's doing right now, perhaps?

"What do you do all day, Mister Vox?" You ask, looking wide-eyed at the television lined walls of the area. He flinches, grinning awkwardly before bringing back his confident demeanor.

"Me? Oh, you know.. this and that- I go to meetings.. I sign paperwork, I go to meetings.." He laughs to himself, shaking his hand dismissively as he sits in his seat, spreading his legs in a man spread. You turn away from the screens, looking over at Vox as he scans the monitors with narrowed eyes. You wonder if he was doing something important before he found you.

"Uh, Mister Vox, what do I do now..?" You ask, taking a small step towards him. He tilts his head towards you, smiling as he swings his chair to face you completely.

"oh, you? You can just sit there and look pretty.." Vox looks you up and down with narrowed eyes, face blank for a long moment before bringing a small smirk onto his face. He leans back in his chair, clicking his fingers as a bundle of clothing finds it's way into your hands.

"Perhaps prettier, change into that for me will you dearest?" He says, leaning his head on his fist as his voice becomes slightly more distant. You look at him, confused as you clutch the blue and red clothing to your chest.

"Okay.. Where do I change, Mister Vox?" You say, fiddling with the collar of your shirt as your body feels hot. Vox rolls his eyes playfully, pointing a clawed finger to the floor as he shifts his chair back to the screen. "Just change here my dear, no one will see you," He says, looking at you with a side glance. It's almost condescending, in a way.

"right here? But-"

"Here is fine, dear. Hell, here is more safe to change than anywhere else in this building," He laughs. You get this off feeling like you should trust him. I mean, he's one of the people owning this building anyway, right? He would be the one knowing a lot about it rather than anyone else. you should trust him.

"Okay Mister Vox."

You can't see his grin.

Every piece of clothing you peek off feels like this weird symbolism for losing yourself. Off comes your shirt: a piece is lost. Off comes your shorts: a piece of you is lost. And then more clothes come onto you, building something new. On comes a skirt: a piece of you is molded. On comes a blouse: a piece of you is molded.

And then there's this watch, a mobile one with 'Vox Tech' plastered across the side. With a shrug you put it on, struggling with getting it to tightness but ultimately managing to win the battle with the finicky strap.

"Good, good, how great you look!" He says, outstretching his hands with a grin.

You feel yourself blush, one half of you from his compliment and the other half from the fact he's looking completely in your direction. Does that mean he was watching you the whole time?

"Actually my dear, do you think you can grab me a coffee?" He asks, clicking his hands as a streak of blue energy shoots inside of the watch; this causes a mao to appear on the screen, showing where you are currently. "That map should tell you where to go, the assistant there should give you the coffee the way I like it,"

You shouldn't ask it, but you feel your bones ache too.

"How do you like it?"

He grins, tilting his head.

"Sweet with a strong flavour," He states, waving you off.

--- 666 ---

The first week as Vox's Assistant goes by smoothly, or as smoothly as it could working with an Overlord of hell. A rather odd seeming one at that.

Everything feels on edge with Vox, you feel like at any moment he could do something drastic. You've no idea what said drastic thing could be either, which makes it a whole lot more anxiety inducing. Hell, Vox is attractive. That's probably why you're on edge. That's what you keep telling yourself anyway. You're probably in love with him or something.

Vox had even given you housing as close to the building as possible, insisting he pay the rent. Not that you complain, no; less walking for you it seems. The Vox Tech watch he gave you tells you pretty much everything that you need to do. When you wake up in the morning it goes off, alerting you like an alarm, it has a to do list that blares when you're in the office, it maps out the whole space, it even acts as Vox's messaging system towards you.

You do wonder how he controls it, even in the comfort of your own home. Well, he is an overlord, right? He's capable of things even outside of your grasp. You cannot even fathom what he could do with that power.

And that's just the way Vox likes it.

Actually, you haven't seen Valentino around the building the whole week either. Even in a meeting you accompanied Vox to. You'd expect to see him more often with all the prowling in and out of the building you do.

It's as if he's vanished.

"Princess, grab me a coffee will you? Maybe even grab one for yourself while you're at it, on the house," Vox asks, swiveling on his chair to face your own, which sits just off to the side of his own with a small desk in front of it. You'd been doing some paperwork for him for the past hour, mostly reading through stuff, asking him questions, and singing them for him.

"Yeah, sure.. um, I was just wondering.." You utter softly, causing Vox to raise a brow as he leans back on his chair with a confident grin. He tilts his head in question, saying: "What's on your mind, (N/N)?"

"I haven't seen Valentino around the building, I was just wondering if something's up with him?" You ask, looking down at the ground as you begin to regret yourself even questioning. Vox laughs, flapping his hand in dismissal.

"Oh, just that? Don't worry about it! He's just.." Vox pauses for a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "Doing his own thing," He finishes, smiling rather oddly as he begins moving his chair back to face his computers. You intercept.

"His own thing..?"

Vox turns back to you, grinning widely with a manic look in his 2-D eyes. Once again, the buzzing fills your brain. And you fall to your knees against the ground with a painful 'thump'. Vox harshly grips your chin, pulling you closer to him until all you can see is that blaring red eye of his as he speaks.

"As i said,"

You feel yourself wanting to let go.

"Don't worry about it."

He lets you go of your trance, leaving you teary eyed as he smiles softly, brows furrowing in a sort of mocking empathetic way. His eyes drip with affection you find.

"Now, grab that coffee, okay?" He finishes, placing a cold kiss against your forehead before letting go of your chin, leaving yourself to gather your bearings.

It's not often you feel the want to defy someone. But as you stand from the floor, dusting off your skirt and walking to the elevator; you feel that need to be defiant. You'd figure out where Valentino is. He has to be somewhere in the building, right? You just have to find.. him..

In these hundreds and hundreds of doors. You would have to find him. And you can't take so long, otherwise Vox may suspect something.

You'd find someone to tell you where he is, you'd find him, and you'd stop worrying if Vox is going to do something drastic because he hasn't lied to you. Simple as that, simple as that. Right?

As it just so happens, as you begin walking through the studio halls you find yourself bumping into a spider individual, of whom you remember being a popular porn star.

So with an anxious breath you asked him. He explained that Valentino was in studio B-40, but he doesn't recommend finding him. And once again you go against someone's wishes. Plus, you were just going to stick your head in the door. It's nothing to worry about.

So what are you so anxious when you find yourself getting closer to the door? Why does your throat feel so tight? Why do you want to run in the other direction? Why does every step feel so heavy?

Taking another small step to the door, you wonder if you should listen to your conscious. It's supposed to do you good , right?

No, that's baby talk.

You aren't weak. You aren't letting the people in hell get you down! You are going to open the door!

You push yourhand towards the door handle and-

"Ouch! Fuck-" You yelp, an electric shock going through your body, causing you to fall backwards onto the hard floor below. Your whole body is on fire, you can't feel your tongue. You can't feel your brain.

A hum accompanies Vox's words.

"You're not going in there." He says, leaning over you as you push yourself to your knees, pressing yourself to the wall. Your head is throbbing.

"I'll beat him to a pulp if he sees you, you know?" Vox laughs, that sickening pseudo-empathetic look covering his flat features. You feel your stomach twist, this time in an awful way, it's like he's draining you of your soul. You want to disappear.

"I don't want to be aggressive," Vox begins as he grips your face harshly, causing tears to well into your eyes. "But your fucking mine, you got that?"

"And I won't let that sleazy prick get his greedy eyes anywhere near you!"

"W-what?" You whimper, pushing his hands from his face and backing away meekly. Vox laughs to himself, red dripping from his two dimensional mouth. He humors you with that gaze of his, eating alive any part of your confidence that may still linger.

"Oh, don't you get it, my dear? You sighed the paperwork," Vox leans down so his eyes can bore into your own, his gums showing in that prideful smile of his. "You belong to me now."

You choke on air, standing to your wobbly feet.

"W-what? I don't un-"

The paperwork. The paperwork you signed to get the job. You didn't read it! You idiot. You fucking idiot! You've ruined your own life. You belong to him..

To Vox.

"You- Shit-!" You turn around on your heels, almost slipping as you speed off into the hallway. You hear his voice echo in your ears.

"You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either!"

This was a mistake, this whole thing was a mistake. You want to die. You want to disappear. You want to get as far away from him as possible. You don't even take the elevator down, you run down every single flight of stairs jumping down a couple to save time.

The slip beneath your feet almost makes you topple over as you clutch onto the railing, swinging yourself onto the next flight of stairs. You have to be close to the bottom, right. Right? Yeah. This is fine.

And you were, right, surprisingly. You can almost see the entrance outside. You just have to make it out of this lobby. You just have to make it out of this huge fucking stupid ass lobby! You have to.

All of the sinner's eyes bore at you as you run at top speed to the door. You can't be here. You need to leave immediately. He can't find you If you're far away, right? Just go somewhere without a camera.. it'll be fine.. everything will be fine.

You're so close! Just a few more steps, a few more heavy, headache inducing steps.

You can make it. You just have to believe in yourself, and it'll all work out. Everything will be fine. It just has to be. Hell can't be this cruel, can it?

You're so close to the door you can smell the outside world, hear the cars as they pass, hear the charter hear the-

You choke and fall.onto the ground, a heaviness around your neck and wrists. It buzzes against your skin, making you go light headed. You can barely see it, but it's there. There are handcuffs around your wrists. And a collar around your neck. All of which glowing and buzzing with that electric blue of Vox.

He is right.

You can't run, you can't hide, you can't do anything.

He owns you, he has you. You can't do anything.

You made a mistake.

Maybe hell really is this cruel.

Keeping you forever tethered to this man.

Who knew one mistake would ruin the rest of your eternity.

Serves you right for being so naive.

"Alright now, are we done with our tantrum?" Vox asks.

"Yes mister Vox." You say.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Feyre is invited to her ex’s wedding. She decides the best way to deal with this is to bring his rival as her plus one. 

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Typical Toxic Ex Stuff

Chapters: 2 (WIP)

Length: 2,123 words

AO3 Link

Part of my contribution to the 2024 @acotargiftexchange 🎁

[Hello my lovely @millennium-queen! It is I, your Super Secret Santa (well, technically it’s my main blog @sajirah but shhhhh)!

I know I said this would come out on the 21st but honestly I just couldn't wait anymore (and @reverie-tales is a bad influence).

I had an absolute blast making this for you the past couple months and I'm thrilled to say that this fic is only half your present! I actually drew a couple art pieces to go along with it and you can find them both integrated into this fic as well as featured alone on my art blog. I hope you enjoy them all and have a wonderful holiday season!

And a special shoutout to @starfall-spirit for combing over this for me! You’re the beeessst! 💜]

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Part One

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Feyre stared at the invitation as if it were a live grenade.

Of course he would do this. 

Of course. 

Just when her life had finally begun to return to normal. When she had clawed back her mental health and self worth Tamlin had to go and do this. 

It wasn’t enough for him that he and his shitty family had to go and make her feel like the dirt under the soles of their designer shoes. It wasn’t enough that he had traded her in almost immediately for someone ‘more appropriate’ to his station. Someone familiar with the world of old money and fancy silverware who could talk about the tax benefits of some tiny country in the Mediterranean (or had it been in the Caribbean?). 

“You just don’t fit in Feyre,” he had told her as they had driven away from his parent’s house for the final time. 

He broke up with her less than 24 hours later. 

Through a text message. 

Like a fucking coward. 

That had been six months ago. 

And now here she was, staring at a wedding invitation to the wedding of her ex and his new bride. 

It was so���cruel. 

She wouldn’t have thought him capable of such cruelty, but that was before she had received a break up text and all of her belongings sitting outside her locked apartment after work. There had been no warning. No backup plan. No other apartment she had just happened to be paying the lease on in case of something like this happening. 

He had seen to that. 

He had made sure to keep her vulnerable and dependent upon him until he could discard her at his leisure. If not for Mor and her exceptionally comfortable couch, Feyre would have likely spent those tumultuous first few post-break up months on the street. 

And yet, after all that, here she was back at square one. Feeling almost exactly as she had upon arriving upon Mor’s doorstep. 

Lost. Alone. Utterly betrayed. 

Fuck Tamlin. 

He didn’t need to do this. He could have easily pretended she ceased to exist the moment she was out of sight and just gotten married with her none the wiser. But no. It couldn’t be that easy. He had to rub her face in it. Show off her replacement and force her to smile and pretend to be happy for them. 

What kind of game was he playing?

Because whatever it was…she didn’t want to play. 

“Fuck you,” she told the invitation. 

Feyre decided now was as good a time as any to get drunk. If she was lucky, she’d black this whole thing out of her memory and forget about the invitation entirely. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I texted Rhys.”

Feyre groaned. 

They had just settling in for their weekly date of Pride and Prejudice and enough chocolate to make Feyre’s doctor squint at her with disapproval. It had become their ritual of sorts after she had landed herself on Mor’s couch after the whole Tamlin fiasco. Because nothing was as healing to the soul as watching longing looks across a ballroom and stuffing one’s faces with an ill-advised amount of sugar. 

“I thought you were kidding about that.”

“Why would I joke about that?” 

“I’m not bothering your cousin with my bullshit.”

Mor waved away her concern with the kind of casual arrogance only achieved through a lifetime of privilege and a healthy dollop of nosiness. 

“Well that’s too bad, because he lives for this kind of bullshit. I think it’s what powers him through those boring ass business meetings with his dad.” 

“I thought that was spite?”

“That too.”

Feyre pursed her lips skeptically before popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth. 

“He says he’ll do it.”

Feyre nearly choked. 

“What?! Why?!!” 

“He said he couldn’t leave a damsel in distress.” 

“But…why would he even care?” She asked, bewildered. “He’s never even met me.” 

“No,” Mor agreed with a smile. “But he does know Tammy.”

Feyre jolted like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket. 

“What?!”

“Oh yeah, he and Tamlin go way back. Their fathers used to work at Goldman together and both got shunted off to some boarding school upstate. They basically spent every waking moment together when they were kids.”

“So…” Feyre said with a sinking feeling roiling in her stomach. “They’re friends.”

Mor’s smile widened. “Oh no. They despise each other.” 

“…Why?” She was still trying to grapple with the fact that this man had even agreed to this at all. 

Mor’s expression hardened. “Something about his sister. I never got the full details but it was enough for him to go nuclear on Tamlin. He hasn’t spoken to him since.” 

“I see…” 

And she did. Here was a man who hated Tamlin as much as she did, offering to be her date to his wedding just to stick it to her ex. It was petty. It was mean. 

It was perfect. 

Before she could think better of it, Feyre came to a decision. 

“Give him my number.”

Mor smiled. 

“I already did.” 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Feyre began regretting agreeing to this meeting the moment she entered the cafe. 

She had been texting with him for the last week. 

Rhys. 

Most of it was the usual ‘I just want to make sure you’re not a psycho’ smalltalk. Lots of ‘So where do you work?’ and ‘If you turn out to be an imposter I just want you to know that Mor has the DA on speed dial’. But eventually, once they were both satisfied the other wasn’t a serial killer, they set up a meeting. 

To plot. 

And plan. 

Feyre glanced at her phone again, checking the time for the twentieth time in the last fifteen minutes. 

What if he didn’t show up? What if he was just humoring her? What if this was all just some elaborate joke Tamlin had somehow orchestrated to make her look like an idiot?

(Okay, maybe that last one was just her catastrophizing a bit.)

She was just…nervous. 

What did she even really know about this guy?

That he was Mor’s cousin? That he worked for his (very rich) father’s cutthroat investment firm? That he grew up in the same old money circles as Tamlin?

It was…not a lot to go on now that she really thought about it. 

Why was she agreeing to this again?

She saw an image of herself arriving at Tamlin’s wedding. Alone. Pitied and condescended to while she watched the man she had loved marry someone else. 

Ah. Yes. Now she remembered. 

“Fucking asshole,” she muttered. 

“Feyre?” 

She glanced up, expecting some random acquaintance…and blinked. 

And then blinked again. 

Rhysand Knight stared back at her with a cheeky smile. 

Huh. 

His photos on Mor’s instagram didn’t do him justice. 

At all. 

Feyre felt her brain try to make sense of what was in front of her. It felt a bit like meeting a Calvin Klein model in real life and realizing that not only did they look as good as they did in the pictures, but they looked better. 

“Hello. It is Feyre, right?” He smiled, flashing a set of perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth at her in a way that left her feeling a little dazed. 

“Umm, yeah,” she said, blinking up at him. 

God, why couldn’t she stop blinking?

He slid smoothly into the seat across from her, smiling pleasantly as if they did this every Tuesday. 

“Sooo…” she said, glancing about for something to stare at that wasn’t his stupidly pretty face. She settled on his coffee cup, reading the girlish script scrawled across the front. She couldn’t help noticing that the barista had spelled his name wrong. 

“So.” Rhys agreed. 

“I…umm, I got your texts.”

God, she sounded like a moron. Idly, Feyre wondered if someone could die of embarrassment. 

“Oh I know,” he said happily. “Apple has this wonderful feature that tells me exactly when you’ve read my text messages. Very handy.” 

She scowled. 

“Mor never told me you were a smart ass.”

Rhys grinned like a shark. “Really? I would’ve thought that would be the first thing she’d have brought up.”

“Must’ve slipped her mind.”

“Must have,” he nodded sagely.

An awkward silence set in then before Rhys eventually decided to take pity on her. 

“So,” he leaned forward, amused. He thought he was so funny. “I hear you need a date to a wedding.”

For lack of a better response, she nodded stiffly. 

“To Dear old Tammy’s wedding.”

She nodded again. 

“Well then I’d be delighted to accompany you, if you’ll have me.” 

“But…why?” She blurted out. “I thought you hated him?” 

“Oh I’m always up for taking the opportunity to piss Tamlin off. Call it a personal pass time of mine.”

Feyre supposed she sort of understood where he was coming from. Though, personally, she had always preferred to steer clear of her exes after the relationship had run its course. She was only agreeing to this insane plan because Tamlin had thrown down the gauntlet. 

And she had never been one to back down from a challenge. 

No matter how ill-advised. 

“I guess I just don’t really understand why you…care,” she ended lamely. “He isn’t your ex. Why would you bother making him feel bad about dumping some stranger?”

Rhys stared at her with an odd expression. Like he was trying to crack his way into her head and figure out what made her tick. 

“Darling, if I had been stupid enough to fumble a woman like you I would deserve what was coming to me.”

Feyre startled, not really sure how to respond to that. How was she even supposed to take that?

“Umm...thank you?” 

“Beside,” he continued. “If he didn’t want you showing up with his least favorite person he shouldn’t have sent you that invitation.”

Well she certainly couldn’t argue with that logic. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know why he invited me in the first place,” she grumbled irritably. 

“Oh it’s more than clear why he’s invited you,” he leaned closer, a conspiratorial smile on his face. “But we’ll make him regret it won’t we?”

Feyre felt a glimmer of hope bloom in her chest. 

“He didn’t deserve you. And we’re going to make him see that.” 

Rhys raised his cup of coffee in a salute. 

“Fuck ‘em.”

Feyre couldn’t help but smile as she raised her own cup. 

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

She should’ve been expecting it after that conversation. 

And yet Feyre still found herself quite caught by surprise a week later when she arrived home to a giggling Mor standing over a suspiciously large package. 

With her name on it. 

“It’s for you,” Mor sing-songed helpfully. 

Feyre eyed it dubiously before zeroing in on the name of a boutique in the space for the sender. 

“He didn’t…” she groaned. 

“Oh I assure you, he did,” her roommate laughed. 

Feyre grimaced. 

No matter, she thought as she squirreled the box away into Mor’s closet. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Except, she discovered later in the week, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

What was in the box?

Well, a dress, obviously. 

But what kind of a dress?

An expensive one, she thought grouchily when she later looked up the name of the boutique during a moment of weakness. Figures. 

Well…it wouldn’t hurt to try it on…right? After all, what were the odds that he had even gotten her size right? 

Very good, it turned out. 

Feyre eyed herself in the mirror later that night with bemused shock and a grudging sort of pleasure. 

It fit perfectly. 

In fact, it felt…tailored. 

But…how? How had he known her size? He’d only met her the once! And she’d been wearing a shapeless sweater that left literally everything to the imagination. And it’s not like she had told him her measurements. In fact, she had very pointedly ignored him when he had tried to get the information out of her in their texts. 

Mor, she thought after a beat. She must’ve given him her measurements. It was the only explanation for how perfectly this fit. 

Yeah. 

That must be it. 

Feyre smoothed her hand down the bodice of the dress thoughtfully. 

It really was a beautiful gown. 

“Well,” she said to herself, admiring the fall of the fabric in her reflection. “He sure knows how to make a statement, I’ll give him that.” 

And what a statement it would make. 

She wondered, idly, what Tamlin would make of it–of her–arriving dressed like…this. Would he be upset? Would he hate it?

The thought made her…lighter. She felt…confident. 

Brave. 

Yes, she thought happily. This’ll do just fine. 

[damiansgoodgirll]

imagine being jey uso girlfriend and finding out you’re pregnant, how would he react?

this is so cute!

are you pregnant?

you’ve been sick for over a week but you couldn’t understand what was wrong with you. it started as a simple stomach ache but from day to day it got worse, especially in the morning.

you woke up nauseous and even if you were hungry you couldn’t eat anything, even the smell of food made you sick.

one morning you texted your best friend telling her that you had to cancel breakfast with her because you kept feeling sick. of course she understood but something started growing inside of her mind and that’s how you found yourself being stuck in your home with your best friend at 9 am.

“i got something for you” she said making her self comfortable on the couch. you were lucky jey was training otherwise he would have scolded her for the lack of good manners.

“what did you get?” you asked her before she handed you the package.

“open and you’ll see” she smiled.

you were speechless when you saw the pregnancy test in the little box.

“why did you get me a pregnancy test?”

“because i’m pretty sure you’re pregnant…the morning sickness, the nausea? c’mon, connect the dots, plus you told me your period is late this month…” she said and everything that came out from her mouth started making sense.

“oh fuck…”

“okay before you panic you better take the test…go girl, i’ll be waiting for you!” she gave you a warm smile before you went to the bathroom.

you did everything you had to in order to take the test and now you waiting, sat on the cold marble floor of your bathroom.

positive

you were fucked.

your best friend knocked on your door when she saw you wouldn’t come out.

“honey? are you okay?” she asked a bit worried.

“can you come in please?”

when she saw you sat on the floor she immediately joined you, probably knowing the answer to the test.

“how am i going to tell jey?” you asked her “we’ve never talked about kids…i’m not even sure if he wants to have kids, you know with everything that’s going on with his work” you started panicking.

“just tell him in the most rational way, like two adults. no surprises and no video for tiktok” she joked “but seriously, just be you…”

“okay…”

“and whatever happens you know i’ll always be here for you” your best friend said. you thanked her and walked her to the door. it was only you and your thoughts now.

you were impatiently waiting for jey to come back home from training and after lunch time he came back home.

“hey babe” he greeted you with his big smile and wrapped you in a big hug.

“hi…” you smiled but he immediately knew something was off.

“is everything okay love?” he asked.

“can we talk?” you asked without answering his question.

“sure…” he got worried, you never acted like this.

once you were both on the couch you weren’t sure how you were going to tell him that you were pregnant.

“okay so…there’s something i need to tell you but i don’t know how you’re going to react so…” you started saying.

“baby are you okay? are you hurt? did something happened?” he immediately got worried.

“i’m not hurt i promise but something definitely happened…jey give me your hands” you said and brought his hands into your smaller ones “there’s a thing…we’ve never really talked about it but it happened” you whispered the last part while his eyes were focused on your face “i’m pregnant” you said, the bomb was out.

“you - what?” he was shocked.

“i’m pregnant jey…”

“this means? it’s mine right? i mean of course it is but - we’re having a baby?” he was thrilled. you thought he was going to be mad or something because in this past year of relationship you’ve never discussed on starting a family so his reaction surprised you.

“yes baby, we’re gonna be parents…” your eyes full of tears of joy when you saw his face. he was crying and looking at your belly, already thinking about the life inside of you.

“i can’t believe we’re gonna be parents, this is the best thing ever” he said touching your belly “i know you’re the size of a popcorn right now but i want you to know that you’re already so loved, mom and dad can’t wait to meet you love” he talked to your belly and that made you cry harder.

of course your baby was going to be loved, jey was the best man you could have by your side and now thinking about the fact that he was going to be the father of your baby made you feel complete, you had the perfect man to grow a family with.

[cacoetheswriting]

a mutually assured attachment

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 3.9k summary: crossing the thin line between friendship and something more, but not before a few set backs.

warnings: set before tfatws, therapy positive, emotional hurt / comfort, mutual pinning, adult dialogue, use of pet names (sweets, darlin') mentions of food and alcohol consumption, a little bit of jealousy, friends to lovers, a conclusion to a lovely little slow burn

a/n: technically part of a mini-series, but can 100% be read as a standalone. also, unsure if anyone is still following this story, but i wanted to wrap it up ‘cause i really enjoyed starting this series all those months (years eek) ago. plus if anyone stumbles across it in the future, it will be complete! thank you for reading and for your support <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes did not think of himself as the jealous type.

Yes, he envied his fair share of individuals he encountered throughout his long life: the people who made life appear easy, those who seemed to have everything figured out, and everyone who took “mundane” for granted.

The regular Joe’s with their nine-to-five jobs, a random group of friends, and not a care past anything other than their stack of overdue bills or their fantasy football league (whatever the hell that was…). The average Jane’s who often reminded Bucky of his own mother, hoping to grow and nurture happy homes, full of sweetness and a load of laughter, desperately trying to shield everyone around them from pain and misery.

Envy, yes. Bucky was familiar with the feeling. Jealousy however… Well, jealousy was different.

Jealousy was usually a side effect of romance. It called for a connection stronger than Bucky allowed himself to form with the people he met ever since he became himself again. It involved trekking on dangerous territory and putting other people at risk, therefore no, James Buchanan Barnes was not the jealous type.

That is until he met you.

He’s learned to admit that you entered his life at a time he did not even realise he needed you most, turning it completely upside down (for the better) and providing him with a glimmer of hope that there was still good in this post-blip world.

He’s grown attached to you, opening up in more ways than one and sharing thoughts he hasn’t spoken about with anyone since Steve. Over time, you have easily grown to be his favourite person.

And now Bucky was sitting at the bar, picking at the label of the beer bottle in his grip while watching you toss your head back in laughter at something this random suit-wearing jerk was saying.

You disappeared for five minutes to go to the bathroom. Bucky thought nothing of it, even ordered you another drink while you were gone. But when you didn’t come back to your seat, stopping instead for a chat with a stranger, you unknowingly caused an unnerving feeling to rush through the brunette sergeant.

This wasn’t the first time someone tried hitting on you while you were out with Bucky, (and considering how jaw droppingly beautiful you were, he was actually quite surprised it didn’t happen more often). However, this was the first time you engaged back in the flirtatious interaction, which was more than unsettling to your blue-eyed neighbour. 

He wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smirk off of the dude's face. Quite frankly, the only thing stopping him from doing so was the reason he wished to do it in the first place: you.

Fuck, Bucky cursed himself, this was jealousy.

Shifting in his seat so he wouldn’t have to witness you with that dunce, Bucky brought the beer bottle to his lips and, in one sip, finished what was left of his drink. He then paid the tab and was about to stand when a hand gently squeezed his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

“Sorry about that,” you said and he forced a smile.

“No need, darlin’,” Bucky reassured, hoping the tone of his voice didn’t betray him, although, judging by the elated look on your face, he had nothing to worry about. Your thoughts were focused entirely on something…  else.

“I was actually just about to leave,” he added and got to his feet. “Didn’t wanna disturb your conversation.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? No, don’t go,” you implored, sliding your hand from his shoulder down his leather covered arm until your fingers reached the hem of his jacket.

Bucky held his breath as you gripped the material, the softness of your skin just barely brushing against him.

“He gave me his number so I’ll call him later if I feel like it.”

“You stay,” he demanded, “I’ll go. There is something I gotta take care of anyway and I don’t wanna ruin your evening.”

Pursing your lips together, you eyed him suspiciously, scanning every inch of his face for any tale of dishonesty. See, during the time the two of you have spent in each other's company, you have gotten quite good at reading your brooding neighbour, despite his closed off demeanour. Which is how you could clearly see there was something bothering him.

However, you have also come to learn when to stop pushing him and give him space.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Bucky repeated and shooting you one last congenial smile, he walked towards the exit.

You watched him leave, his figure disappearing in the shadows of the rainy New York night. Inhaling a quick breath, you returned to the guy you were chatting with just moments prior, and four drinks later, you stopped thinking about Bucky.

Albeit just for the night.

The next morning you wound up at his door, as usual. When he didn’t immediately answer, you retreated back into your own apartment without giving it a second thought because it was definitely like Bucky to ignore you from time to time.

That afternoon you knocked on his door again, and you repeated the action after returning from work over the next four days — still no Bucky. And because he was also not answering his phone when you called or replied to any of your texts, the worry suddenly spread through your veins making you nauseous. 

Feeling conflicted about what to do next (since it wasn’t like you knew anyone else in his life you could reach out to) you decided to distract yourself any way you knew how, hoping one day the grumpy brunette would simply show up at your door as if nothing happened.

Unfortunately for you, keeping your mind from wandering about your blue-eyed neighbour proved harder than you wanted it to be and it wasn’t until a few weeks after you last saw Bucky, the perfect distraction finally made an appearance.

You often debated adopting a pet but your landlord didn’t allow any animals which seemed like reason enough. Now, you were standing face to face with what was perhaps the most beautiful cat you had ever seen, and as you cautiously approached it, the white feline inclined towards you, allowing you to gently run your fingers through its fur and eventually pick it up.

While carrying the cat to your apartment, you researched vet clinics in the area and promptly made an appointment for that same afternoon. Turns out your new furry friend was a she and the epitome of health, making you think there was someone out there missing her immensely.

While at work, you printed out flyers with a picture you took of her and your phone number at the bottom, before dropping them around town during lunch.

For about a week, you waited. Waited for your cell to buzz but no one ever called.

“Alone together, huh…” you murmured, gently running your fingers through her soft fur, “Guess I should give you a name then. Can’t keep calling you cat, you deserve better, don’t you think?”

She purred in response, as if she understood every word you just said, and you couldn’t help but smile.

The next couple of days were spent brainstorming potential names although nothing you came up with seemed to stick because either you didn’t entirely like it or she didn’t respond to it — mostly the latter.

“You’re so stubborn,” you tittered, watching her lick her paw, “I should call you ‘Bucky’.” The name escaped your lips and you immediately froze, your mood dampening.

That night you didn’t sleep. Tossing and turning all night, thinking about the blue-eyed man for the first time since the cat has entered your life.

Stirring sugar into your coffee the following morning, Bucky still occupied your thoughts. 

There was something about him you couldn’t quite shake. Despite the majority of the people in your life being there longer than your super soldier neighbour, the connection you two shared, well you couldn’t really explain it. Bucky just made you feel… different.

Frankly, you hated yourself for becoming so codependent on another human. Sure you had a good group of friends and even enjoyed the company of a couple of your colleagues, but no one meant as much to you as James Barnes.

The cat snuggled into your leg, purring softly. You tilted your head down to look at her, her blue eyes reminiscent of Bucky’s, and a defeated sigh escaped your lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered and she blinked. For a moment you wondered if she sensed the growing sadness in your heart. You remember reading how pets can detect human emotion, which is why they provide so much comfort, but you had a hard time believing it, until now.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, shifting your expression into a half-smile. You were about to say something when a distinct jingle of keys drew your attention.

It couldn’t be, you thought and hastily dropped the teaspoon into the sink before heading for your front door.

At first you were almost certain you were seeing a ghost, pale and dishevelled. Then, for a brief second, you didn’t really know who you were looking at. An intruder or someone new moving in perhaps? (A lot of possibilities although you only wanted one to be true.)

It wasn’t until the person turned around, eyes meeting yours instantly, you realised it really was him.

Bucky was back. Unexpectedly. The exact same way he disappeared.

“Hey,” he greeted sheepishly.

Your first instinct was to get angry, but the longer you stared at him, heart thumping, the more you knew that wasn’t the rational thing to do. Anger wouldn’t solve anything, it wouldn’t answer any questions. And you had a lot of questions.

The next thought that ran through your mind was to throw your arms around his neck and nuzzle yourself into his embrace because you missed him goddamnit.

“I-I…”

While you debated exactly how to react and what to say to him, your furry friend squeezed between your legs. The quiet meows grabbed your attention momentarily along with the attention of the brunette man.

With a shaky hand, you lifted the cat up before meeting Bucky’s gaze once again.

“I-I got a pet,” you blurted out, immediately regretting it because what a lame thing to say to someone you genuinely thought you would never see again.

He cleared his throat and responded, “I can see that.” Pause. “What’s um, what’s his name?”

“Her name,” you corrected, “And to be honest she still doesn’t really have one. I’ve just been calling her random things to see what would suit.”

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Bucky fought back a smirk.

“That’s definitely unique,” he commented.

“Don’t tease me, James.”

Just as the two of you returned to your usual banter, silence surrounded once again when his name escaped your lips. An apologetic look spread across Bucky’s features and he took a step in your direction.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky decided quite early on into his friendship with you that he would do anything to keep you out of harm's way. When his feelings towards you transformed from general fondness into something much stronger, he decided the best way to keep the promise he made to himself would be to distance himself, (at least until said feelings faded).

He never planned on leaving. He simply wanted to make himself unavailable some evenings or weekends, come up with lame excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out. But the night Bucky left you at the bar, returning to his sad apartment alone, he switched on the TV. Suddenly, he needed to visit Sam. He figured you would understand. He never planned being away for so long. He never planned on leaving you behind without so much as an “I’ll be back”.

Looking at you now however, bottom lip quivering and tears in your eyes, he fucked up. He should have at least answered your calls and texts. 

You sniffled. The cat, which was now half-resting on your shoulder, alerted immediately to the gentle sound of your undeniable sadness and rubbed its paw against your face.

“Uhm…” you cleared your throat, “I-I should go feed her.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. He didn’t want you to leave yet, there was so much he had to say, a lot to explain. 

“Right, of course,” he uttered almost sheepishly, “Maybe later if you have some time we can—”

“Maybe,” you cut him off and did a u-turn back into your apartment, “Welcome back, James.”

-

The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully.

And no, you weren’t avoiding Bucky. Not entirely. It just so happened that every time you had to leave, you did so via the fire escape as opposed to your front door, and every time you heard him out in the hallway, you switched everything off and held your breath, pretending you weren’t home.

You rationalised your behaviour as necessary. It wasn’t avoidance. It was… self preservation. He hurt your feelings when he left. You couldn’t just let him waltz back into your life as if nothing happened, opening yourself up for pain yet again.

Bucky was understanding of your unspoken request to be left the fuck alone. He knew he screwed up but he wasn’t sure how to make things better. All he wanted was to see you smile, and be the reason for it. How could the two of you get to that point when the couple of times you bumped into one another it was awkward?

Was it going to be like this forever?

Luckily, you had your cat to keep you distracted. 

Despite not being named yet, she brightened your mornings and had a calming effect in the evenings. She sat at your feet while you were baking and purred into your chest when you were taking a nap. She followed you around the apartment like a trusted companion, even sitting on the bathroom floor while you showered.

So it was strange when one morning she wasn’t in your bed and it was even stranger when you didn’t hear her tapper around the apartment while you were getting ready. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach when you called her for breakfast by the various names you’ve so far come up with — no response.

By the time you had searched around your whole apartment, you were already late for work. At that point you were thinking you couldn’t go in anyway, your fucking cat was missing. One quick “I think I have food poisoning.” call later, you unlock your laptop in search for the flyers you made when you found her. Tears formed in your eyes while adjusting the title from ‘IS THIS YOUR CAT?’ to ‘HAVE YOU SEEN MY CAT?.

That’s when you knew you couldn’t do this alone.

A short two minutes later, your knuckles are pressed against the wooden door of your neighbours apartment. One, two, three gentle knocks later, and Bucky is standing in front of you.

“I need your help,” is all you managed to blurt out. It’s all you needed to say, really. Bucky doesn’t need any further explanation when it comes to you. He grabbed his jacket and followed you without question.

When you showed him the poster on your laptop screen, he reassured you in a calm tone. One that almost makes you believe him. One that almost makes you forget that he’s left you all alone, without a word. Almost.

“When did you last see her?” Bucky asked.

When you shrugged your shoulders in a defeated manner, he sighed softly and without really thinking about where your friendship currently stood, wrapped his strong arms around you. The second his frame closed around yours, you burst into tears, face pressed against his chest as he held you close, consoling you.

The world seems to come to a stand still at that moment.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stood there. Seconds, minutes. He did, however, manage to calm you down, bringing the waterfall to barely a trickle as you sniffled against his t-shirt.

When Bucky eventually dropped his arms, you avoided his gaze. Scared to admit out loud how good that felt and how glad you were he was here for you, since he’s hurt you once when you became too attached, and you weren’t going to let him do it again.

“How about you stay here, in case she comes back, and I’ll go search for her outside?” Bucky suggested, dipping his head to try and meet your teary eyes. His hand is on your shoulder, barely holding on as if he was afraid you would suddenly flinch and pull away — which he most definitely was.

All you did was nod, and as he headed out the door, a quiet “thank you” escaped your lips.

“Anything for you, darlin’.” Is what you think you heard, but the tone of Bucky’s voice is so quiet, you rationalised that you heard wrong.

The day was spent wandering aimlessly around your apartment, checking your phone every two minutes to see if Bucky had had any updates on the whereabouts of your little pet. He had not.

By the time the sky turned dusky dark, you had lost all hope. She’d never be found. It was as if the universe only meant for you to be together while Bucky was away. You couldn’t have both. That would be too good, too lucky.

But just as you were about to start crying again, a glass of cheap wine in hand, the doorknob rattled and seconds later, in walked Bucky, holding your precious feline friend in his metal arm.

“Oh my god,” you exhaled as relief took over your entire body.

You ambled forward, reaching for the cat in Bucky’s grasp as she meowed uncontrollably, seemingly happy to see you. And Bucky smiled as he watched you snuggle into the white creature, heartbeat growing tenfold with every tick of the clock.

“She uh,” he began as you moved across your apartment, settling down on the couch, “She’s quite the climber, that one. After a day of searching half of Brooklyn, I eventually found her on the rooftop of this very building.”

“Thank you,” you said without averting your gaze from your furry white friend.

What he wanted to say is, “Just glad I could be here for you,” but what he uttered instead was, “Don’t mention it, darlin’.”

For a moment, Bucky hovered in your entryway, unsure whether you wanted him to leave now or if he could stay, just like he did many times before. He decided to not push it. Decided it’s best for the longevity of your friendship to not force anything with you, especially since the strong feelings he had for you before he left have only increased in the time apart — complete opposite of what he wanted to happen.

So he turned on his heel, but just as he was about to say goodnight, you turned your attention to where he stood and waved him over.

“Stay,” you requested, “The least I can do as a thank you is order us some takeout.”

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’.”

“I want to,” you said honestly, hoping he can detect your sincerity, “Stay, please. I-I let you walk away once before and ended up not seeing you for months.”

He swallowed, but didn’t say anything.

“Please stay. I want you to stay, James.”

-

The morning light trickled in through your half-opened curtains, causing your eyes to open slightly and take in your usual surroundings. Except these weren’t entirely your usual surroundings. There was one thing different this Saturday morning as compared to others.

Bucky was still asleep, covered loosely by one of your many blankets. His chest heaved softly, quiet breathes escaping through his parted lips. He looked so peaceful sleeping in your bed, sleeping next to you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight before you.

You shifted to your side and slowly trailed your gaze along his pretty perfect features, focusing on the details you’ve honestly never noticed before. The scruff perfectly angling his jawline, the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes showcasing how he’s aged over the years, barely noticeable but still present.

Then the cat made an appearance, jumping on the bed, settling between you and the super soldier. Before you got a chance to shush it, not wanting to wake Bucky up, she purred against his shoulder.

A smile crept up on his features at the contact. Seconds later, he opened his eyes before slowly tilting his head to first look at the pet, then at you.

“Good mornin’.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence during which you two simply stare at one another. Time seemed to have come to a standstill. The blue of his eyes piercing, searching your gaze for what, neither of you were really sure. All you both knew was the longer you remained this way, the more your hearts swelled.

Bucky was suddenly feeling nervous, as were you.

“Thank you for staying,” you eventually whispered.

“Thank you for asking me to stay,” he replied.

Another second of silence. 

There was so much Bucky wanted to tell you, but the words were stuck in his throat because how can someone go from avoiding, leaving without a word, to admitting that they cannot live without the other person. And that’s exactly how he was feeling. He’s come to terms with it now. He couldn’t live without you.

Would you even feel the same? He wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, he would think you’d want to remain a little distant given everything that’s happened. But then again, if that’s how you felt, then why would you ask him to stay?

Maybe you just needed the extra push, same as him.

“Think you should name her Alpine,” Bucky suggested, one hand rubbing the cat that was now sitting on his chest, while the other reached for your fingers. Slow, but not hesitant. 

“Alpine,” you tested the name on your lips. “I like that.”

You take his hand then, intertwining your fingers together without commenting on the fact. He squeezed gently, testing the waters further, and you squeezed back — again, both of you choosing not to say anything about the physical interaction.

“Did you have any plans for today?” Bucky asked and you shook your head. “So, would you eh, would you wanna go somewhere?”

The smile on your lips widened.

“We do have a lot of catching up to do, neighbour.” A modest tease. One you hope won’t ruin the moment, or the day ahead.

He just chuckled, mimicking your expression and making any worries disappear just as fast as they threatened to break through.

“That we do, darlin’.” Pause. “I’m sorry for messing it all up. I promise to make it up to you, starting today.”

Taking his apology in, you let go of his hand, instantly missing his touch. Bucky was too, but he didn't get to completely register just how much because you shuffled closer to where he lay, closing the gap between you.

One arm extended towards his chest, resting gently as your fingers brushed a now sleeping Alpine, and also grazed against Bucky’s own in the process. The thudding of your heart inside your chest was most likely loud enough for him to hear — it was. He focused on it, the beating, and it calmed him entirely.

Your aura calmed him. It has since day one and he hoped it would until the end of his days on this Earth.

Yes, Bucky was more than attached to you.

Luckily, the feeling was mutual.

Sealed with a soft kiss.

as always, thank you so so much for reading, and please reblog to tell me what you think! <3

main masterlist

[k9emote]

And just to add on! I never said my "art" was 100% by me I simply just didn't tell people, hate to say it but ive actually given up on being an artist because of people like you. I've commissioned and gave you money, and your friends money for art yet you still want to complain about me using somthing almost 4 months ago now to help me put food on the table. What you don't seem to understand is ain't nobody gonna tell you their entire life on the internet. You have no idea what a person could be going through yet you still sent your server of over 3000 people after a 15 year old girl who was just trying to enjoy creating something.

To say that I was "suicide baiting" is crazy because when did I EVER mention killing myself.

And one last thing, your sever is a cult. It's also fucking disgusting. A cesspool of brainless children looking for online relationships. You, yourself being included. It's a breeding ground for grooming and such things. You disgust me. The fact I have multiple screenshots of you saying you were "gods favorite lamb" please get a damn life dude. Your mental unwellness actually is a joke. The way you are open about your disgust for fat people is repulsive. You can't blame trauma on everything hope this helps xx

Your words speak for themselves on your character.

I am not disgusted by fat people. My current partner is plus sized. I asked for advice once on our perspective of incredibly unhealthy overweight people, and if feeling sick when seeing them made us a bad person. Our ex was morbidly obese due to her feederism and v0re kink. she bragged about being overweight to us and sexualized it. She wrote fanfics about force feeding us. She fetishized our ED. She roleplayed vore and feederism nightly behind our back with strangers while we were sleeping in vc together. We are working on untainting the mark she left on us, and that process is not for you to discredit or spread rumors about.

I'm not giving you consequences. I am protecting people and safespaces by alerting them of your repeated abusive behavior to keep people safe. The world does not revolve around you. You are receiving NATURAL CONSEQUENCES for being an ABUSIVE LIAR. No matter your age.

Drop the guilt tripping. Tracing over AI you were generating for art trades was not putting money on the table. You "never said the art was 100% yours", are you fucking serious? Your story of being the victim grows every time you speak. You being 15 does not mean you get to do whatever you want and expect nothing but pity. We tried to help. Us and our mods were there for you to vent to even after you admitted to shit talking us in the past. You did this to yourself.

Blacking out your entire profile and sending cryptid goodbyes to my entire staff team, even people you had never spoken to, is suicide baiting. When we blocked you on our main you found our ALT and sent the same short goodbye message. That comes off strongly as implying suicide.

For the love of god I'm not harassing you I'm just not letting you spit on my name using baseless rumors because you're upset you got caught. What the fuck did you think would happen?

I sent NO ONE after you and I am near COMPLETELY confident you have not been harassed. I have said over and over again to not harass you when I put out info on you to ban for members safety. That is NOT harassment. Your victim complex is insane.

Also. My server is not a "cult" and saying that to a survivors face is repulsive. It isn't a word to throw around and you make me sick. Please leave me alone. Stop messaging me. Stop threatening me. Stop lying about me. It will not make people feel bad for you. It will not make you feel better.

[st-dorothy-minority]

"Hurt" - an emotional, angst-filled Radioapple fic

I greatly hesitate to post this. It is very, very special to me and feels more vulnerable than anything I've written. (And honestly, I may delete it at any point 😩)

I would love it if you could spare a comment if you read this and share your thoughts.

I wasn't going to finish this, but I've been seriously struggling this month myself, and it's one small thing I can contribute for Suic*de Awareness & Prevention month.

Based on the song "Hurt" by Christina Aguilera (please check that out before reading to get the full impact. Imagine the song sung by Charlie https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/christinaaguilera/hurt.html)

Dedicated to @persephoneblck - thank you for your love and support through my struggles ❤️

-----------

“Charlie, I-”

“Just don't! I can't do this anymore! For once, I wish you'd show up when others need you, when I need you!”

“But Charlie-”

“Mom was right. You don't know how to be a husband. You don't know how to be a leader. And you sure as hell don't know how to be a dad! I won't ever ask for anything from you ever again. I don't want you in my life anymore!”

As she turned her back on her father and returned to what remained of the hotel with the other residents, Lucifer felt himself quickly losing composure. Still, he made one last attempt to talk to her by calling out, “I’m proud of you, Charlie!” When she didn’t turn around, he lowered his gaze to the ground and added sorrowfully, “More than you could ever know.”

****

It was a couple hours before Alastor was able to check on his emotionally wrecked lover.

It was no surprise he found Lucifer still in the throes of depressive anguish.

Taking a seat on the floor where Lucifer sat next to the bed, Alastor placed a consoling hand on his back and rubbed it affectionately.

“We both know she didn’t mean what she said,” Alastor assured.

A few tears splashed onto the glass of the picture frame Lucifer held in his hands, which housed a photo of himself and Charlie that Vaggie had taken not long ago.

“She gets into fits of passion, like you, and ends up saying things that aren’t true,” Alastor continued when it was clear Lucifer wasn’t going to respond.

After a minute passed with more silence, Alastor gently pulled the picture away, set it aside, and took Lucifer’s now restless fingers in his hands to hold.

“Luci….No one is perfect. Mistakes happen. Hurt feelings happen. It’s a consequence of the human heart that seems to remain in us demons, including Charlie. She’s still a child with much to learn. You are doing a much better job than you give yourself credit for. Give yourselves some time to be apart for a bit. There is nothing wrong with maintaining some distance for a little while as she cools her head.”

Lucifer sniffled, wiped his eyes, and uttered pitifully, “But she’s right. All of it. I was never there when she needed me. I fucked up with Lilith….I’m a shitty, fucking failure, Alastor.”

“Now I absolutely have to disagree with you about all of that. You are trying. You are learning. You won’t get it right all the time. Let the past be the past with its wrongdoings. She’ll have to learn to do the same.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Lucifer nodded. “Yeah….I guess you’re right….Thank you.”

“Of course.” He brought Lucifer closer, placed a soft kiss against his temple, and asked, “Care to lie down? You should rest.”

“Not yet. Think I might go take a bath and try to relax.”

“Want me to join you?”

“No, I, um....I think I want to be alone tonight.”

“Are you sure?” “Yeah. Plus, you should go back to check on everyone and help with whatever they need….since she doesn’t want my help….”

“Alright then. I’ll report back tomorrow with how things are and to check on you.”

Placing a finger under Lucifer’s chin, he tilted the devil’s head up to kiss him tenderly. When they pulled away, he was content to see Lucifer smiling.

“I missed that smile,” Alastor purred, causing Lucifer to giggle.

“Funny that you never give me the chance to miss yours.”

“If it’s any consolation, you certainly bear witness to my genuine ones more than any other demon in this Hell.”

“I’ll take that,” Lucifer conceded happily.

Doting one last kiss onto Lucifer’s hand, Alastor took his leave.

****

----Five Years Later----

Clutching her phone tightly in her grasp, Charlie blinked through the tears to find the most precious contact in her list. From the moment she saw the adorable duckie profile pic and the name, the relatively quiet crying became uncontrollable sobbing.

It was approaching mid-evening, and it was tradition to conclude the horribly painful day with a call to the person she missed more than anything. The person she longed to hug again. The person she yearned to see his smiling face again.

The person she owed everything to, the one she wished to apologize over and over again to.

The one who had taken his life because of her.

It was rare that a day passed when Charlie didn’t replay the last exchange she’d had with her father and felt her stomach twist into knots and the guilt consume her from realizing how cruel and heartless her final words to him had been. To have not even acknowledged his final words to her of how proud he was of her.

Attempting to take several deep breaths, she at last touched the screen to call her dad.

She knew he would never answer, yet his voicemail (and the messages he’d left on her phone that she hadn’t deleted) was the only way to hear his voice, even if it was brief and impersonal.

Hello fellow citizen of Hell! You’ve reached the head honcho himself, Lucifer Morningstar. If you aren’t in my contacts, how the fuck did you get my number? If you are, I’ll call you back at some point. If this is Charlie, I’ll get right back to you, sweetie! If this is an emergency, well, I don’t know what to tell you other than you’re probably S.O.L. Still wanna leave a message? Be my guest!

*beep*

“….Hi dad,” Charlie began in a tiny, constricted voice. She paused briefly due to the uneven breaths attacking her, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply as best she could, and tried again. “I um….I miss you….so much. I’m so sorry for what I said and blaming you. I didn’t mean it….I was wrong….so, so wrong…..I wish you were here….I still have so many questions and….I need you….I need you, dad….I was mad, I didn’t mean it….I love you and I just want you back. I want to understand. I love you….”

She was able to end the call before the phone slipped from her hand and she hugged herself as the crushing grief overtook her.

I wish you were here….I need a hug….I’m so sorry….

She felt the presence of her new company before he even sat next to her. On the balcony of the hotel overlooking her inherited kingdom, Alastor joined her on the bench without a word. This had also become their tradition – to share the remainder of the evening together in silence with the only other person who understood more than anyone else how suffocating the loss felt. They each had very different relationships with Lucifer, but the fact remained they each loved him beyond measure.

While Charlie’s regret plagued her in the form of her last words to Lucifer, Alastor’s was rooted in having left him alone that night. If only he’d insisted on staying, denied Lucifer’s request, and remained at his side. The memory of finding the king of Hell submerged in golden-tainted water in the bathtub, his wrists and neck sliced open to the bone by the only weapon in the realm that could mortally wound him, haunted Alastor just as vividly all these years later. He could still recall Charlie’s screams of denial and sorrow when he told her what had happened, remembered how she grabbed onto him as her knees gave out and they held each other for nearly an hour, drowning out everything and everyone around them.

Once Charlie regained her composure for the most part, Alastor eased his arm across her shoulders and drew her closer to rest against him in a loving embrace. His other hand took hers and held it, and they stayed this way for hours.

Eventually, Vaggie came to help Alastor escort Charlie to bed, which Alastor appreciated because he knew Charlie would continue to be cared for during the hardest night of the year.

As for him, it was the one night he returned to Lucifer’s home and laid in the bed he’d shared with the fallen angel. He fetched Lucifer’s favorite over-sized duckie plushie to cuddle with – the one he’d always teased his lover about whenever Lucifer chose to hug it at bedtime – and breathed in deeply. The scent was fading, but it was enough to revitalize the memory.

Letting the tears fall at last, Alastor whispered, “I’m sorry I left you when you needed me most. I love you.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for requesting my boyfriend to be more affectionate with me?

(🪴 for identification)

I'll try to keep this as brief as I possibly can. I (25F) have been living with my partner of 5 years (26M) for around 1 entire year. We share the rent of the apartment and prices of anything else the house needs, but otherwise we buy whatever we need ourselves.

I am in my second year of college while he's on his third. Our relationship never had many issues as we always were good at communicating and never tried to let issues get to us, but in recent months things have been getting harder for me to deal with.

Our rule was to usually keep saturdays free from work and studying to spend time with each other. This might sound dumb to some people, but judging as we both have to study and work during week days and I am a sensitive person I always found it necessary to have a day we can just stay with one another. He knows the importance of this for me as he was there with me during my bpd diagnosis and is also fully aware of how badly one of my exes fucked me up, so for all those past years in our relationship he was always loving and attentive to me, something which me and any of my friends can attest to.

However, in recent weeks (I'd say since around the middle of january?) he's been clearly avoiding me. I've tried to talk to him about whatever may be happening and he just said he's been focusing on studying for uni which is fully understandable and good! However, last week I asked him if we could spend this saturday (feb 24) together since I've been heavily missing him and he's possibly aware of that as he's mentioned my current behavior is off from my usual. (I almost told him he's the same, but I held off)

To my request, he replied he can't since he already promised a mutual friend of ours he'd be going to help him with something, to which I asked if I could join them! Again, it's a mutual friend so I didn't feel anything was wrong with that, but apparently I was intruding into his life and should let him have some time for himself.

Here is where I might be the asshole. After him acting cold to me for weeks and using the excuse that "he was busy, of course he can't be all warm and kind to me when he's stressed" (which mentally I called bullshit as I was doing the same things as him plus volunteering at the nearby school to help the kids and still kept trying to be affectionate), I snapped and said that if I'm his girlfriend, he should at least give me some affection and love (in a slightly louder tone of voice). I know anger issues have been a constant ever since before my diagnosis, but I've been keeping them somewhat under control since I began therapy, so I didn't break anything or hurt either of us, but I know my anger always scared him. He got defensive and said he loves me but is just busy and can't act affectionately towards me when he's constantly stressed, to which I replied that well, so am I but it didn't stop me from continuing to put effort into our relationship. After getting the cold shoulder from him for all those weeks I finally cried and locked myself into my room afterwards, packing to stay with my closest friend after I texted her if I could stay for a bit.

I'm currently with her and she's been making sure I'm comfortable and alright, trying to make time for us to watch things together or simply talk while I'm here so I don't feel so lonely. He has been texting me from a variety of things such as apologies to him trying to justify he was busy and stressed so of course he'd act cold to me. I've been replying to him, but after he called me overdramatic in one of the texts I've come back to ignoring him.

I don't want to throw out all our years together like this, but I still feel hurt and ignored by him from those weeks. I know we will have to talk sooner or later but currently I'm still scared of doing so.

So, am I the asshole for asking my partner to give me some attention? This isn't the first time this has happened, but definitely the first one it went this far and I feel that it's fully on me, for context.

What are these acronyms?

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Perrito Chapter 3: Position - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

your first 24 hours on the job. you're starting to adjust to daily life as lalo's puppy, though there's a feeling of dread that you can't quite shake. tags/warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, petplay, humiliation/degradation, exhibitionism, stalking, non-consensual body modification, gaslighting, psychological abuse, intoxication (weed and cocaine) anatomical terms: cunt/hole, t-dick word count: 9,139 (most normal lalo stan) ao3 link author's notes: we're so back (in all /srsness thank y'all for supporting me these past few months as i have been Going Through It. i promise the next chapter will not take this long) como siempre no soy un hablante nativo pero estoy aprendiendo. entonces por favor corríjame si se encuentra algo de errores :3

This was not the first morning you woke up feeling like a complete and utter dumbass.

And it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

Though as you prodded the bruise on the underside of your bicep, you struggled to think of a time that you’d fucked up even half this bad. 

The only thing that came close was the day you got arrested. You remember it in flashes. First, you were in the passenger seat of a car, nothing fancy. You couldn’t recall if it was a Honda or a Hyundai, but you were never much of a car person anyway. Whatever it was, it was blue, and parked in a seedy alleyway. You had your mouth on a cock, one of many you’d taken before, thinking about what you’d get for lunch after this. Anything that would get the taste of cherry-flavored condom out of your mouth. Suddenly, there was a knock on the window, and you and your client were dragged out of the car by two nosy officers. Handcuffed, bent over the hood, and trying your hardest not to cry, one of them patted you down, and reached into one of the small pockets in your denim booty shorts.

“Yep. Cocaine. So now we can add possession of a schedule two narcotic to your charges.”

Just your fucking luck. That morning, a client had given you an 8-ball in exchange for a discounted blowjob. It would’ve been cheaper to just pay your normal rate, but he said he was trying to kick the stuff and it was just collecting dust in his possession. You had no interest in trying coke for yourself, but you figured you could sell it pretty easily. After all, what’s one illegal trade versus another? Plus, the guy had said it was high quality. Allegedly, it was the good shit from Mexico. 

Mexico. 

Maybe it was Salamanca product. 

Maybe Lalo had been controlling your life for longer than you thought. 

The next thing you remember was crying in the interrogation room. 

You’d refused to talk to the pigs, as you should’ve. You weren’t that stupid. You knew nothing good would come of it. They could just lie and say whatever asinine thing they felt like to get you to snitch on yourself.

“We just want to know what happened, kid.” Bullshit. 

“We’re trying to help you.” No you’re not. 

“Cry all you want, but you got yourself into this mess. If you talk to us, we can find a way to get you out of it.” Fuck. You. 

Blubbering, choking on snot and tears, more scared than you’d ever been in your entire life, you stood your ground.

“I’m… *sniff* I’m invoke- invoking my… *sniff* right to remain s-silent and my right- *sniff* right to c-counsel… P-P-Please…” Breathe. Just breathe. In, then out. Innn, ouuut… Okay. You’re okay. You can do this. What’s the next line? “P-Please provide me with an attorney.”

To their credit, they did. The next person you spoke to was a public defender, a guy in his 40s who looked like he hadn’t slept in days. You remember what he said when he saw you.

“Oh jeez, you poor kid. Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. Please, please don’t cry. I, uh… I think I got some napkins you can use.” He’d opened his disheveled briefcase and handed you some thin fast-food napkins. As you mopped up your misery, he took out a pen and paper, and sat down across from you. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. Also, he was a sympathetic crier, so he didn’t want to make things harder for himself. “My name’s Jimmy. I’m gonna be your lawyer. Can you tell me your name, bud?” 

Jimmy tried. He really did. But the best deal he could get for you was 6 months. You remember the look of sadness on his face when he told you that you’d be going to prison. You broke down, sobbing violently into your palms. You heard his voice crack under your heavy burden. 

“I know… I know, kid. I’m sorry. Just let it out.”

“I’m gonna die in there… I’m gonna die…”

“No, no, no! No, you’re not! Keep your head up, okay? 6 months will be over before you know it.”

“No, you don’t understand…”

You came out to him, and his face contorted in horror when he realized what you’d be subjected to. Jimmy felt like the worst lawyer in the world; he somehow managed to get a client the death penalty for prostitution and a few grams of coke. He had never felt so fucking guilty. At least he gave great hugs. 

The cops who did your strip search did not. 

Your memory got hazy from this point. You dissociated through the entire intake process, mindlessly following directions. Stand here, turn, turn, face forward. Walk. Stand here. Take your clothes off, oh dear god. Run your fingers through your hair. Open your mouth. Squat. Cough. Put your new clothes on. Take your stuff. Go to your cell. You were lucky to not have a cellmate assigned yet. You could spend your first few hours of incarceration crying in your bed alone.

At lunch, you went to the shower, and the rest was history. 

And a few weeks later, you were laying in a luxurious bed, waking up well-rested from the amazing sex you were being paid $10,000 a week to have. 

And you had a microchip in your arm. 

This wasn’t post-nut clarity; this was post-nut psychosis. No, post-nut divine revelation, like God himself had come down from Heaven just to call you a braindead dipshit who should’ve seen this coming. Like the 2nd-generation cartel boss that paid you to live in his house and drain his balls wouldn’t find a way to track you wherever you went, dumbass? What were you thinking, huh? Are you fucking stupid? Huh? Are you? Are you stupid?

Probably.

You probably were stupid.

But you definitely were hungry, and hell, Lalo promised you breakfast once you woke up and came down to the kitchen. If there really was a microchip in your arm, it wasn’t exactly going anywhere. You might as well enjoy the perks of your situation, of which there were many. Maybe a full stomach would empty your head.

Having completed your morning routine in Lalo’s master bathroom, you threw on some casual clothes, stared at the dog collar your reflection wore, and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where Lalo was eagerly waiting for you, with an apron tied taut around his slutty little waist. 

He gasped in delight when you finally graced him with your presence. “¡Buenos días, perrito! (Good morning, doggy!)” He ran up to you and gave you a warm, tight hug, one that could’ve lulled you right back to sleep if he kept it up for long enough, especially with such soothing puppytalk. “Ay, mi chiquito lindo, te quiero muuucho. Te quiero, te quiero. (Ay, my cute little boy, I love you so muuuch. I love you, I love you.)” But instead, he eventually broke the hug to kiss your forehead and pat you on the shoulder. “You sleep okay?”

You slept fine, but waking up was another story, a story that you didn’t tell. “Yeah, I’m good.” You yawned and stretched once he let you go. “That bed is super comfortable. Way better than what I’m used to.”

“Well, get used to it! It’s definitely a step up for you. Good for your back too.” Lalo laughed, patted you once more, and opened up some of the kitchen cabinets. He kept talking as he grabbed a frying pan and some mixing bowls. “Now that you’re up, I thought we could cook breakfast together. You down?”

“Yeah! Sure. I’d like that. I’m hungry.”

“Figured you would be. I gave you quite the workout last night, huh?” Lalo winked at you over his shoulder as he started to position everything on the counter. When he turned his back to you, you couldn’t help but ogle his ass in those insultingly tight jeans he always wore. “Can you do me a favor, actually? Can you grab the eggs and chorizo from the fridge? Should be on the second shelf.”

His question took a second to finish buffering in your distracted mind. “Hm? Oh, yeah! I gotcha.”

You walked over to the fridge and opened the double doors. It was bigger than the fridge you’d had at your apartment in Albuquerque. A lot bigger. Your eyes scanned the fully stocked second shelf, searching for what you had been instructed to find.

Your back to him was the perfect opportunity to strike. Lalo snuck up behind you, snaked his arms under your armpits, and clipped the leash to your collar. Thank god you hadn’t grabbed the eggs yet, because he yanked the leash back and knocked you off your balance.

“¡Siéntate! (Sit!)”

You turned around and dropped to your knees, looking up at Lalo with a face of pure confusion, which he found incredibly amusing.

“What? What are you looking so surprised for?” He reached over you to shut the fridge. “On-call means on-call, puppy! That means if I need you, you gotta be ready for me, yeah? Any time, any place.”

Right. That was what you signed up for. You just went expecting it to be so… sudden. “Okay, yeah, sorry, I just thought that-“

“Ch.”

What? What the fuck did he just do? It was like he shushed you, but it was a ch rather than a sh. Sharper, and with a more distinct bite to it, like a threat. It shocked you into silence, which is exactly what he wanted.

“Good boy.” Lalo balled the slack of the leash in his fist and crouched down to your eye level. “Now, you gonna be quiet? You gonna be a good doggy and do what you’re told?”

Son of a bitch. You really were his dog. The puppytalk, the headpats, the commands, the microchip. His commitment to the bit was honestly impressive. You nodded, ready to listen.

Lalo smiled and tousled your hair, recreating the bedhead you’d so carefully combed away. You would have been annoyed if it didn’t come with some intoxicating praise. “Good boy! Such a good boy! Who’s a good boy? You are! Yes you are! You’re a good boy!”

His sweet words soothed your mind. You could feel your thoughts, reason, your very humanity melting away with each strand of your hair curled around his fingers, each repetition of “good boy” that left his lips and emigrated to your ears. Degrading? Yes, but that was part of the fun. It was nice to not have to think for yourself. You could just close your eyes, sit back, relax, and let yourself be spoiled. Lalo would take very good care of his dog.

Lalo could see the transformation, the shift from person to puppy at the very second you stopped thinking. Having you exactly how he wanted you, he smoothed your hair out to something almost as tidy as you’d had it before. “That’s it… Good boy… Good doggy…” To snap you out of your daze, he snapped his fingers in front of your face. “¡Ay! Mírame. Look at me, puppy.”

You did as you were told, gazing up at Lalo as he stood upright and let the chain leash jingle as the excess fell from his hand.

“Good boy.” Lalo held his hand out for you. “Shake. Dame la pata.”

Assuming a dog wouldn’t have the same dexterity for a handshake as a human would, you laid your limp-wristed hand in his, and let him grab it and shake it.

That was the right move. “Perfect! Good boy!” He let go of your hand and you placed it back on your thighs alongside the other. “Habla. Speak.”

You’d learned your lesson last night, and told him what he wanted to hear. “Woof woof!”

“Ha! Aw man, I never get tired of hearing that.” Lalo’s hand found its way to your hair again and he asked, “Good boy! You want a treat? You want a treat, boy?”

You weren’t entirely sure what a treat would be in this context, but you guessed it’d be something good. You nodded once more, accepting whatever blessing he would bestow upon you.

Lalo’s smile dropped, “I need to hear you, puppy. I need to hear you if you want your treat. C’mon,” and pulled the leash hard enough to gag you a little, “Speak!”

“Woof! Woof, woof!”

“Gooood boy.” Lalo purred and slipped the leash’s handle onto his wrist. Now having both hands free, he went to untie the apron and unfasten his belt. 

Should’ve seen that coming. You thought to yourself, though your self-contained sarcasm went out the window once his cock was out. You’d seen it a bunch by now, but it never failed to make you drool. You licked your lips in preparation. 

Lalo slooowly pumped himself in front of you, watching you squirm anxiously. His foreskin retracted and slid back so easily, and the overhead kitchen lights illuminated the single drop of precum leaking from his slit. It felt like ages before he finally said to you, “Come get your treat, doggy.”

And your mouth was on him in a flash, an instinctual response to a simple command. You were so well trained. Such a good dog. You reached up to squeeze his ass and push him further down your throat. Even with your mouth plugged with cock, you found yourself moaning in pleasure. 

Your voice vibrating his shaft inspired Lalo to speak up, through a deep, rich groan. “Ooh, yeah, that’s it… That’s a good puppy. I almost think you enjoy this more than I do!”

Possibly, but with how obnoxiously loud he was moaning, you thought it was pretty balanced. You pulled his cock out of your mouth to spit all over the tip and spread it down. Once you’d soaked his entire length, you lifted it up to slurp on his balls. 

 “Yeah, yeah, there you go… Good doggy. Good-“ Lalo went still and unnaturally stiff for a second. Then, he started laughing. Hard. 

You pulled back to check on him. “Uh… you good?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. Just…” Lalo braced himself against the fridge to catch his breath, “Just thought of something funny is all. Y’know… dog playing with a ball? Fetch, boy!”

As stupid as it was, you couldn’t help but laugh, too, though you only got 3 or 4 “ha”s out of your system before Lalo yanked the leash and impaled your mouth with his cock. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Lalo’s spontaneity was definitely something you’d have to get used to. His ability to make you laugh, drop your guard, and then sneak up on you meant that you could never truly relax around him. But hey, that’s what you’re getting paid for, right? Plus, it’s kind of a thrill to be taken by surprise. You continued to service him, wet and sloppy, spit seeping down your face, until another sound stalled the scene: your stomach growling. Loudly.

But Lalo didn’t mind. In fact, he thought it was cute. “Oh, pobrecito (poor thing), was that you? You’re hungry, huh, boy? Well the sooner you get me off, the sooner we can cook, okay? Here…” He held onto you tightly by your hair and began thrusting into your throat. “I’ll help you speed things up.”

You gripped his thighs to brace yourself, knowing exactly what he meant by that.

Lalo fucked your throat with reckless abandon, savoring all the obscene gawkgawkgawk type sounds it made. His breath shuddered as he neared his peak. “Ay, te pinche puto, oh… Oh, sí, como eso. Buen chico. Qué- ngh… Qué buen chico-oh, mierda, estoy… Estoy cerca… Voy a venir… Voy a venir en tu boca de puto… ¡Carajo! (Ay, you fucking slut, oh… Oh, yeah, like that. Good boy. What- ngh… What a good boy-oh, shit, I’m so… I’m so close… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum in your whore mouth… Fuck!)”

And once more you were shoved all the way down. Your nose nestled into Lalo’s bush as he ejaculated down your throat. Without any options otherwise, you quickly swallowed it all. You didn’t get to taste his cum, but the feeling of his aching cock throbbing on your tongue was delicious in and of itself. 

When he was finally empty, Lalo sighed and pulled you off. You coughed as the oxygen rushed you, forcing down the last few drops of his cum. The both of you were disheveled, sweaty, flushed-face messes. What a way to start the day.

“There. Little snack to hold you over before we cook, right?” Lalo tucked himself back into place and unclipped the leash from your collar, signaling that your job was done. He gave you a warm smile and finger combed your hair back into place. “Good boy! Oh, that was good. C’mere. Lemme help you up.” He extended his hand for you to take, lifting you up onto two legs. You were a person once more. Now you could think rather than feel, and speak rather than bark. “You alright? You did great. As usual.”

You chuckled, the warm and fuzzy feeling of puppymode still lingering behind. You were in no rush to let it pass, anyway. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Thanks. Glad you liked it.”

“Good!” Lalo was back to his normal, energetic self. He grabbed his apron, clapped you on the shoulder, and said, “Now, go get me the eggs and chorizo.” 

And with that, he strutted back to the counter, business as usual.

You would definitely have to get used to his spontaneity.

…

Breakfast was delicious, so much so that you wondered why he bothered having Yolanda cook at all. Oh well, not your place to judge. His cooking was phenomenal, but maybe hers would have you exploring a different plane of consciousness. After breakfast, Lalo saw it fitting to give you a proper tour of the house.

“Okay, so, you’ve seen the living room, the kitchen, and the master bedroom. There’s a couple more bedrooms downstairs, at the other side of the house. One of them is Yolanda’s, and another is Cecilio’s. The rest are for guests. There’s 2 more bathrooms down that way, too.”

“Mm, okay, got it.” You nodded, making a mental map of where everyone was in the house, though you noticed a pretty substantial gap. “What about all the guards?”

“Oh, they kinda have their own base outside. Makes it easier for them cause they gotta wake each other up to switch shifts. I’ll show you in a bit.”

Honestly, for a cartel boss’s estate, you weren’t expecting it to feel so… homey. Your vision of a drug lord’s mansion was something akin to a fever dream that you’d have after bingewatching MTV Cribs. Everything either marble or gold-plated, 15 Lamborghinis in the garage, and a pet tiger that somehow has its own Lamborghini. But no, Lalo’s place was decorated like people actually lived here. Barring the concrete gate topped with barbed wire, it was like any other family hacienda. Though instead of multiple generations of one family, it was just Lalo and his staff: his cook, his gardener, his guards…

And of course, his dog.

You tried to ignore that nagging feeling under your bicep as Lalo walked you up to a bookshelf. “And so this, oh, you’re gonna love this, just watch.” 

One of the books caught your attention. It was bright red, and its spine said “Hiding in Plain Sight by S. P. Onaj”. How clever. Actually, it was clever, because he reached for a plain-looking blue book on the shelf below it. He pulled it back, and the bookshelf opened like a door, revealing a dimly lit staircase heading downward.

“By the way, pulling that red one sounds an alarm. Just in case any intruder thinks they’ve got me all figured out. Made it obvious on purpose.” Lalo winked at you. “So! Guess what’s down there.”

“Is it a sex dungeon?”

Lalo froze, his facial expression that of bewilderment. You’d got it in one. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed. “What gave it away?”

You shrugged. “I mean, you’re rich and kinky enough to hire a live-in sex puppy, I’m assuming you’d have your own dungeon. Plus, why else would you be showing it to me?”

“Fair point.” Lalo shook his head and chuckled. “Since you wanna be a smartass, though, I’m not taking you down there now.” He shut the bookshelf door, and the ominous staircase was gone, as if it was never there.

“Aw, boo.” You pouted. “Just cause I guessed it right, you’re not gonna show me?”

“No, I actually gotta run out in a little while, and I’m not gonna show you until I have enough time to give you an extensive tour.” Lalo smirked. “There’s a lot down there. Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.” He leaned down and brushed your hair away from your ear, making sure his whispered words hit you dead-on. “There’s so many fun things I can do to you, puppy.”

Before you could even whine, grovel, bitch, or moan, Lalo slipped right past you and beckoned you forward. “Alright! Now, I’mma show you outside. C’mere, boy!”

What a fucking tease. You thought, rolling your eyes and following behind him. He held the backdoor open for you to step onto the patio, but before your other foot left the threshold, Lalo grabbed you.

“Hey! What the-”

You were stopped mid-sentence by the sound of jingling metal. 

The leash.

Lalo had clipped it to your collar again and led you onto the patio, like it was the most casual fucking thing in the world, and he didn’t just accost you into a near chokehold. No warning, no red flag, nothing. You didn’t even hear the damn leash before it was on you. You were stunned. “Were you just keeping that in your pocket this whole time?”

“Well, yeah. Where else would it be?” He stepped out in front of you and pulled the chain. “Sit. And don’t talk ‘til I say so.”

You let your snarky comments simmer on the backburner and did as you were told, dropping to your knees on the patio. You felt a slight tinge of embarrassment as you took in your surroundings: the golden midday sunlight, the warm air, the sounds of birds and a lawnmower running. Oh, god, is he gonna make you blow him out here? Out in the open? Well, you’d done worse. You’d even done worse with him, but the spontaneity was gonna stop your heart one day.

Lalo gave you more of those cloyingly sweet headpats. “Good boy. Good boy. There you go, that’s it. Just relax. Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Be a good puppy. Be a good puppy for Don Eduardo.”

You gradually synced to his rhythm. He’d ambush you with the leash, then coax you into pupspace with petting and praise. Once you were warmed up, you’d do whatever he wanted. It was easier to adjust the second time around.

And as predicted, your master gave you a firm pull of the leash and an even firmer command. “Cuatro patas. All fours, c’mon.”

You shuffled onto your hands and knees, waiting for your next order. But it didn’t come. Instead, Lalo just started walking, expecting you to follow suit. But you didn’t. You were mortified by what he was implying. 

When you didn’t move with him, he turned around and glared down at you. “What? I can’t take my dog for a walk?” Lalo clicked his tongue and yanked the leash. “Come.”

What was usually your favorite command to hear was now suddenly your least favorite. Lalo was going to have you crawl on your hands and knees, through the grass and dirt, in broad daylight for anyone to see. You kept your head down, staring at the blades of grass that stained your palms and knees green. You weren’t listening to Lalo’s tour.

Knowing damn well he was talking to himself, Lalo still pointed out every landmark that you passed, the first one being right ahead of you. “Pool’s right here. It’s heated, just in case you were wondering. And at night, the lights change color. It’s really pretty. Been thinking about getting a bar out here, too.”

As you approached the perimeter of the pool, the cool grass turned to burning tile. You winced and hissed in pain as your bare palms touched the hot surface. “Ah! Shit…”

To your surprise, Lalo actually showed some concern for your situation. “Too hot?”

You grit your teeth and grimaced, still not looking up at him. “Mhm…”

“Here, c’mon, stand up,” He tugged the leash up, “Two legs.”

You hopped up onto your feet, grateful that you were allowed to keep your skin from melting off your hands. You went to brush yourself off, but Lalo grabbed your wrists.

“Let me see.” He checked your palms for any injuries, and finding that you were alright, released you. “Okay, good. Vamos (Let’s go).”

You walked like a person past the edge of the pool, yet once you stepped onto softer ground, you felt a pull of the leash.

“Cuatro patas (All fours).”

And you were back to walking like a dog, hanging your head in shame as you were paraded around the ranch. 

Lalo kept blabbing about whatever building you passed by, his garage, the guards’ house, the shed. You still weren’t listening. You barely even looked up. You were more intently focused on how the beads of sweat dripped off your face and onto the grass below you. And even though the sun wasn’t directly shining down on them, your cheeks had never felt hotter. This was a level of degradation that you did not expect to come with this job. What was he even getting out of this anyway? Did he like showing you off? Having you jump through hoops? Making you whore yourself out to him and debase yourself for his amusement? Was this even getting him off, or was it just for shits and giggles? And why so heavy on the dog motif? And why was there a fucking microchip in your arm?!

Your mind kept repeating one phrase, one sacred mantra that pushed the bad thoughts away and helped you keep going, one paw after another: $10,000 a week. $10,000 a week. $10,000 a week. 

As you kept internally chanting your mantra, a loud voice derailed your train of thought, and to your shock and horror, it wasn’t Lalo’s.

“¡Patrón! (Boss!)”

Your neck snapped up, shifting your gaze from the ground to the gardener, Cecilio. You hadn’t exchanged more than a wave when you met, and now here you were, being walked on all fours in front of this nice old man. You had never felt so thoroughly humiliated. All you wanted to do was dig yourself a nice little hole to die in, but that’d just make his job harder. It’d be rude of you to mess up his meticulous groundskeeping. Maybe if you asked him nicely, he’d simply bludgeon you to death with a shovel instead.

Lalo waved at him and shouted back. “¡Cecilio! ¿Qué tal? (What’s up?)” He dragged you behind him as he approached his landscaper. “Un buen día para dar una vueltecita, ¿verdad? (Nice day for a little walk, right?)” He knelt down on the grass and ruffled your hair with the same informality as petting an actual dog, one that didn’t understand the abstract concept of embarrassment. “¿Necesitas algo? (Need something?)”

Much to your surprise and relief, Cecilio didn’t seem at all fazed by the spectacle in front of him. He didn’t even acknowledge you. “Sólo tengo una preguntita. ¿Usted quería los arbustos altos como estos o más bien como los en frente? (I just have a quick question. Did you want the bushes tall like this or more like the ones out front?)” He asked, gesturing to a tall shrub that had a stepladder beside it. 

Lalo hummed and scratched behind your ears as he thought about it. “Hmm… Pienso que como ellos están ahora está bien. Déjalos altos. (Hmm… I think how they are now is fine. Leave them tall.)” 

You couldn’t understand much of the conservation; it had gone by too quickly for you to translate. What you could understand was how nice his hands felt, how they scratched every itch you didn’t even know you had. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Now knowing that Cecilio didn’t care, you were able to relax. You sighed and leaned into Lalo’s patronizing touch.

“Pero… ¿qué piensas, perrito? (But… what do you think, doggy?)” He yanked the chain leash hard to get your attention. “¡Habla! (Speak!)”

And your base instincts reacted quicker than your brain. He’d trained you well. “Woof!” you barked. Upon realizing what you just did, you blushed and pressed your face into him, attempting to hide from Cecilio.

“Oh, good boy. That’s my good boy.” He kissed your forehead before he stood up, and tugged the leash to get you on all fours again.”Come on, puppy. Let’s get you back inside.” And as he walked you toward the house, he called out behind him. “¡Bien hecho, Cecilio! ¡Sigue así! (Good job, Cecilio! Keep it up!)” 

Cecilio called back, “¡Sí, señor! ¡Gracias! (Yes, sir! Thank you!)”

Lalo took you back to the house, again letting you walk on two legs past the pool. You started to crouch down once you made it onto the grass, but he stopped you.

“Nah, that’s okay. You’re done for now.” He unclipped the leash from your collar and stuffed it back in his pocket. “How was that? You okay?”

“Yeah, uh… I’m fine.” You replied, brushing the grass off your knees and pondering what the fuck you just did. “Just, uh… Was that, like…” You didn’t even know where to begin, but your most pressing concern was the mental well-being of the innocent bystander. “That wasn’t weird for him, right?”

“What, Cecilio? Nah.” Lalo waved off your concerns. “He’s fine. Listen, everybody here just does their job and minds their own business. No one’s gonna say anything about you doing yours. And if they do, you tell me. Okay?” 

That was actually reassuring. After all, it was just a job. You were just doing what you get paid for, same as everyone else. “Okay.”

“Good!” Lalo smiled, “So, I gotta run out for a while. Gotta handle some business stuff with a few of my guys. You remember Tuco?”

Thinking back to that one time he broke a dude’s nose in the prison cafeteria for spilling a soda on him, you answered, “How could I forget?” 

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be him and his buddy Ignacio. He’s cool. I’ll have to introduce you sometime.” Lalo went to grab his going out essentials that he left on the counter: his phone, his wallet, his keys, and a 9mm handgun. “You’ll probably be asleep by the time I get back, but if you’re not, I’ll be outside on the patio. Just in case you get lonely. Oh, and feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” Having everything he needed, he gave you a tight hug and a smooch goodbye on your forehead. “Be a good puppy while I’m gone, okay?”

You giggled playfully. “I will. See ya!”

…

The rest of your day was uneventful without Lalo around. You wandered around the house looking for ways to keep yourself entertained. Part of you thought about sneaking down into the alleged sex dungeon he had, but you decided against it. You didn’t want to 1.) spoil the surprise, and 2.) trip any unexpected alarms or booby traps without him to guide you through them. Instead, you went for a dip in his pool, made yourself something to eat, and took a shower before bed.

During your shower, you dragged the soap across the underside of your bruised arm, wincing when you felt the skin roll over the microchip like how a tire does to a speed bump. There was definitely something under there. There had to be. You could feel it. It was a tiny stick, about an inch long. You could even jostle it around with your fingers. No bruise or vaccination moved like that. And it all made sense, too. Why else would the doctor have to numb you? Why else would he make sure you had your eyes closed when he stuck you? “This is how we do it in Mexico.” Bullshit.

Unfortunately, Lalo did not have any medical books in his possession, nothing that would reveal his tricks. So, all you had to go on was the injection site. All you could do is poke and prod at it helplessly as you laid in his bed, wide awake.

At least the bed was comfortable.

If you had to be kept prisoner somewhere, this was definitely a step up from MDC Albuquerque.

That’s what he was doing, right? Keeping you prisoner. Why microchip you if not? You could rationalize that this was a job; you’d be free to quit any time you want. But that was wishful thinking. As if you’d ever be allowed back to civilian life knowing what you know. Putting in your 2 weeks notice would probably result in Lalo calling in the doctor to put you down. That’s what happens when dogs bite.

No. No. Stop thinking like that. Stop thinking in general. Just go to sleep! Just go to sleep. It’s not that difficult, right? You do it every night! Here, let’s count some sheep. Maybe that’ll do the trick. 

A sheep jumps over the fence. Baa! One. 

Another sheep jumps over the fence. Baa! Two. 

Another sheep jumps over the fence. There’s a microchip in your arm. 

“Goddamnit!” You grabbed one of the spare pillows by your head, screamed into it, and tossed it onto the floor. Having finished with your brief temper tantrum, you stared up at the ceiling, tense, wide-eyed, and fully cognizant. You sighed. You weren’t going to sleep anytime soon. 

Though you probably knew someone who was in the same boat. Someone who you knew would be good company. 

No. No, no, no. Do not go out to him. You cannot be dependent on him emotionally, too. Physically and financially is more than enough. You catch feelings, and that’s how Stockholm syndrome starts.

…

Then again, does anyone know when they have Stockholm syndrome? Is it like anxiety or depression, where you’re aware of your symptoms and yet they persist no matter how many times some asshole tells you to just try yoga? Or is it more like addiction, where you can rationalize anything to avoid facing the problem that you refuse to accept? 

…

Fuck it.

You tiptoed downstairs and out the back door, and sure enough, Lalo was outside on the patio, right where he said he’d be, sitting by the firepit. On the table next to him was a rolling tray, and on the tray you saw a jar, a lighter, and a hemp wrapper. Next to the rolling tray was an ashtray, a tiny golden tool that looked like a shovel for ants, and a baggie of white powder. In his hands, he was twisting a grinder. When he saw you out of the corner of his eye, he perked up. 

“Hey, puppy. What’re you doing up? You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep…” You rubbed your eyes and yawned. “Can I join you?”

Lalo’s smile radiated the same warmth as the fire pit. “I’d like that. Could probably use the company.” 

You approached the chair adjacent to him, when Lalo raised his hand to stop you. 

“No, no, no.” He slapped his thigh and wiggled his eyebrows. “Right here. Best place for a lapdog, right?”

Unable to argue with that airtight logic, you sat down on his lap and settled in. Lalo hooked his arms around you, kissed your temple, and said “See? You fit right in. Good boy.”

You hummed contentedly and leaned back against his chest as he continued to grind what you hoped was weed. You glanced over at the table and asked, “You rolling a blunt?”

“Yep. You want some? It’s indica. Helps me relax.”

“Sure, thanks.” You sat in silence for a moment until he reached towards the table. He took the jar and lighter off the tray and set them aside, next to the bag of what was probably cocaine. No harm in asking, right? He must have had it out for a reason. “So, uh… is that coke?”

“Yeah. I’m not letting you have any, though, so don’t ask. Especially if you’re trying to sleep. It’s the last thing you need.” Lalo’s voice was tender, but firm. You knew better than to question him on that. It seemed like a hard rule. 

“That’s fine. Wasn’t gonna anyway.” There was a drop in the conversation, until you thought of a way to pick it back up. “So, like… do you do it often?”

Lalo unscrewed the second chamber to the grinder and dumped the weed on the rolling tray. “I guess you could say I do it more than most people, but I don’t always use it to get high. Most of the time, I just do little bumps to keep me awake.”

Granted, you didn’t have any experience with actually trying coke, but you didn’t think you could do it so casually. You’d always thought of it as an extreme thing, something you do lines upon lines of and have either the best or worst night of your life. But no, Lalo was calm and collected, as usual. You never would have guessed if it wasn’t just chilling on the table next to you. Next to that weird little shovel. “What’s that for?”

“What, the spoon? Oh, it just measures a bump for you. Here, watch.” He set the grinder down and picked up the coke and the spoon. He cracked open the baggie and dug the spoon in, retrieving a tiny little pile of coke. “See? Just a little bit.” He brought it up to his nostril and sniffed up the powder. His face crinkled up, and then he exhaled. “And that’s it!” He closed the bag and set it and the spoon aside, sniffling up the trace amounts stuck inside his nose. “That’s all you need to keep you up.”

“Interesting…” You pondered, having gained a new perspective on cocaine. Still, that couldn’t be healthy, right? Why not just, y’know, go the fuck to sleep? “Why, uh… Why do you wanna stay awake?”

“Couple of reasons.” Lalo replied, leaning over you to roll the blunt. “First, sleeping is a waste of time. I got more important things I could be doing. You’re supposed to sleep, what, like 8 hours a day? That’s one third of your life you miss out on. ‘S too much.” His calloused fingers curled the hemp wrapper around the weed so dexterously, like a true professional. You’d expect nothing less from a cartel boss. He probably had decades of practice. “I’m lucky, though. I don’t really need much sleep. I’m good with just an hour or two.”

“Mm.” You concurred in as few words as possible. None, actually. You weren’t cosigning the delusional things he said, just acknowledging that you were listening.

“Second, sleeping means you’re vulnerable. That’s something my tío taught me. People can ambush you in your sleep, and you won’t see it coming. They got a head start if you’re knocked out. That’s why you wanna be up as much as possible. Don’t let them get you.”

The most normal advice to give your nephew. You didn’t want to think about what his childhood must have been like, growing up with lessons like that. You answered with a noncommittal “Ah, gotcha.”

Lalo licked the edge of the blunt to seal it, then flicked the lighter. He singed the tip and took a big puff, blowing out a pretty decent cloud. He sighed, then said, “Your turn,” and the blunt was passed to you.

“Thanks.” You graciously accepted the blunt and took one puff, then another, and passed it back to him. Having both hands free, you scratched your neck absentmindedly, just above your collar. 

You didn’t notice what you were doing, but Lalo did. After taking his hit, he set the blunt down on the ashtray. “Let me get that for you.” Before you could ask what he was getting for you, he unhooked your collar and set it on the table. It wasn’t asphyxiating you by any means, but the fresh air on your neck was a shock to your system. You’d forgotten you were wearing it. It just felt so natural.

“Wait, but… aren’t I supposed to keep it on?”

Lalo’s voice was rich and sweet, honey sticking to the sides of your brain. “I tell you when to have it on, I can tell you when to take it off, can’t I?” One of his hands caressed your bare neck, and you whimpered at the feeling of something besides leather. “And besides… not everything has to be about work, right?”

“Right, yeah… Thanks…”

“Of course. I care about you, y’know.” He picked up the blunt and brought it to your lips. “Take another hit for me.”

You wrapped your lips around the blunt and inhaled until Lalo pulled it away. You coughed, just a tiny bit, and he was there to pat you on the back.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay, puppy. You’re okay.” He cooed, gently stroking your hair. He then brought the blunt to his own lips, took a hit, and blew out the smoke. “Sooo, how was your first day? You like it here?”

The weed was starting to cloud your mind. It took you a moment to realize you were just asked a question. “Huh? Oh! Yeah! Yeah, it was…” Your mind stalled, trying to string some words together as you relaxed into his body. “Mmm, it was good…”

“Yeah?” Lalo chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that.” He reached over you to ash the blunt. “What was your favorite part?” He relit the blunt, took a quick puff, and passed the baton to you. 

You didn’t even have to think about your answer. It was instantaneous. “Blowing you in the kitchen, obviously.” You took your hit and handed it back to him. 

“Ah, yeah, I figured. I can tell you really put your heart and soul into it.” He tousled your hair for the 400th time today, and said “Such a good little slut.” He took a long drag and let the smoke drift lazily out of his mouth. “Did you like being walked?”

Looking back on it through hotboxed windows, you did enjoy the exhibition. How vulnerable and open you felt, How Lalo, no, your master Don Eduardo, clicked his tongue at you and told you to walk, and you crawled through dirt to please him. It was kinda hot in retrospect. “Yeah… Hm…” You tapped the unlit end of the blunt against your lips and thought it over, trying to do your duty as a sub and give feedback. “I think, like… I was a bit nervous at first, ‘cause I was worried about getting caught. But I mean, if Cecilio didn’t care, it’s not really a big deal, then, I guess.” You gave the blunt to your boss. 

He took a hit, and asked “Would you do it again?” 

You took your hit, “I think so.”

“Okay, good. Good to know.” Lalo put the blunt out in the tray and squeezed you tight against him. “You feel high yet? This is strong stuff, baby boy.” 

He was right. It was some strong stuff. A drug lord wouldn’t half ass his weed. None of that pussy bullshit from a medical dispensary that gives you the most limp-wristed handjob of a high so you can fall asleep without nightmares for once. This was a heavy, soul-crushing indica, the kind that has you couchlocked for hours and makes a Crunchwrap Supreme taste like the pinnacle of humanity’s achievements. Taking the time to pause between hits meant that you could actually feel yourself getting high, as if the weed was somehow catching up to you. As if for the past 5 minutes, you two had just been pumping a balloon full of helium, and now you could watch it fly away. Half the blunt was left, but your brain cells were already sizzling away one by one. His big, strong hands rubbed your shoulders, jiggling your limp body around.

And his pinky finger nudged your microchip bruise. 

You locked up. Going from warm and fuzzy to tense and cold at the drop of a hat. You had no words you could use. You were an animal, reduced to base instinct. Panic. Panic. Panic. 

Lalo could feel it. “Hey. You okay?”

Now having been asked another question, you switched from animal instinct to robot programming. What just happened? What did you feel just now? How do we approach this question? You came up with this as a plausible response: “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

Feel what? What did he feel? What was it that triggered your rigid demeanor? You stared off into the distance, dissociating into the program, and lifted your arm. “There’s a stick in my arm.”

“A stick?” 

His tone was unclockable. 

No need to panic. Just tell him what happened. “There’s a stick. In my arm. I just felt you move it.”

“What… right here?” His thumb tapped the bruise dead-on. Bullseye. 

“Yes. Right there. I can feel it moving. Push down on it.”

Lalo did as you requested, digging his thumb into your inflamed skin. He nudged it back and forth, jostling the microchip around. 

“There.” You said, no humanity or warmth to your tone. Purely indicative facts. “It’s moving.” And a simple question. “Do you feel that?”

Lalo pulled his thumb away and sighed. “Honey, I don’t feel anything moving. It just feels like a normal bruise to me.” He hugged you close and gave you a tender kiss, just above your ear. “Maybe… Maybe just give it a few days for the swelling to go down? If it’s still bothering you in a few days, we can call Dr. Cruz to look at it.” He caressed your shoulder. “You’ll be okay. I wouldn’t worry about it, baby…”

“Okay…” You sighed. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was just swelling. Maybe it was just a normal tetanus shot. Maybe the stick you thought you felt was just your latent regret manifesting into somatic delusions. Maybe your body was trying to trick you. Maybe it couldn’t accept how lucky you were, and it was trying to give you a reason to doubt this whole arrangement. 

Or, maybe there really was a microchip in your arm. 

You tried not to think about it. You didn’t have to try very hard. The weed made it easy to forget.

And besides, Lalo’s touch was giving you plenty to focus on. 

“You smell so nice, puppy…” He dotted kisses along your now accessible neck. “I was hoping you’d come out here… Share this blunt with me…” He snuck his hands up your shirt and pinched your nipples. “It’s such a great body high, isn’t it?” 

“Yeahhh…” You mewed softly as he rolled the sensitive buds between his fingers.

“You want more?”

“Mhm…” 

“More what?” Another kiss was planted on your neck. “More of the blunt, or more of me?”

“...B-Both.”

“Both? Aww, haha… So needy…” Lalo slid one of his hands out of your shirt to grab the blunt and the lighter for you. When he gave them to you, he said, “My kinda man…” 

Your clumsy fingers fiddled with the lighter, taking a few tries to get a good burn going. When you had it, you inhaled it, and Lalo started sucking marks into your neck. You choked on a moan and coughed out smoke. “Ahck! *cough* *cough* Oh… oh, fuuuck…”

“You’re okay, puppy. You’re okay.” He took the blunt from you. You whined, but he shut that down quickly. “No, no. You can have it back in a second. Take your clothes off first.”

You panted and nodded, trying to translate his direction into action. “Ah… Okay… okay…” He helped you tug your shirt off over your head and toss it aside. Now, you just had your pajama shorts.

“Can you stand up?”

“I… I think so… Lemme…”

Considering that you stumbled the second your feet touched the patio tile, no you could not. Thankfully, Lalo was there to catch you.

“I gotcha, I gotcha.” He held you up by your waist and slid your shorts down to your ankles, and you stepped out of them with his guidance. “Good boy.” He kissed you again on your temple as he undid his belt. “You wanna ride me?”

And here you were again, a warm, fuzzy, happy, high, dumb little puppy. No need for thoughts. No need for words. Just instinct. Just do what you feel. And right now, you felt like that was the best fucking idea anyone had ever come up with. Your stupid little doggybrain responded with “Uh huh…”

“Good boy…” You heard the telltale sound of denim bunching up as Lalo tugged his jeans down below his cock. He quickly stroked himself up with one hand, keeping you steady with the other. “I’m gonna sit down. Then you get on my lap with your back to me, just like before, okay?”

“Okayyy…”

Lalo took his seat and spread his legs. “That’s a good doggy.”

Without looking behind you, you backed yourself up into his lap, holding your lips open to find him. Eventually, his tip poked your hole. Jackpot. And with that, you sunk down, letting him fill you to the brim. “Ohhh, oh my gahh-ah!” 

He held you in place, shushing you and talking you through it. “Shh, shh shh shh, take it. Take it. Take it.”

And you did, you took it so well. He bottomed out, and you babbled, “Mmmm, iss so deeeep…” 

“I know, right? You’re so tight, baby boy. You always are.” He grabbed the blunt, lit it, and hit it as you purred nonsensically, squeaking when his cock would throb and send a pulse through your whole body.

“Mmm… ah! Ngh…”

“Take your time, puppy. I’ll follow your lead.” He put the blunt between your fingers and kissed your hand. “You’re in control.”

What? You’re in control? Since when? Wasn’t the whole point of this arrangement that you were not in control? Oh well, you weren’t one to squander an opportunity like this. You took a puff for courage and held it between your teeth. With all the strength you could muster, you gripped the sides of the lounge chair, hoisted yourself up, and then slammed back down. You did it again, and again, establishing a rough, relentless pace. You were gonna take him for a ride.

And although you were in control this time, you were still the whiny little bitch you always were, especially when Lalo grabbed your hips and began guiding your movements. You took the blunt out of your mouth to let your moans . “Mm! Ah! Ah, gah! Oh my g-god! F-Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me-e-e!”

Lalo growled some words of encouragement. “Goooood boy. Oh, you’re doing so good. C’mon. Just like that.”

Having a flashback to the night before, you remembered what you were supposed to call him at times like this: his title.“Ohhh, Don Eduardooo-oh!”

“No, no. Just Lalo. Just Lalo. You’re not-ngh…” He grunted. “You’re not working, baby. Just call me Lalo.”

You were grateful for that. It was certainly easier to say over and over again. It rolled off your tongue so nicely, though the rest of your words were starting to slur. “Lalo! Lalo! Lalo! Ohhh, fuuuck, La-lo… I’m… I’m’onna cuuum… I’m’onna cum, Lalooo…”

Lalo nuzzled his face into your neck, humming and kissing your bare skin as he pleased. “Mmmm, that’s okay, puppy. Go ahead. You can cum.”

Now more motivated and more riled up than you had ever been before, you frantically bounced on his cock, determined to find and feel your release.

“Yesyesyesyes, fuck! Fuck!!!”

You squirted hard enough to push him out of you, completely drenching both your laps and even seeping through the lounge chair. A noticeable puddle had formed on the tile below you, but neither of you cared. 

Well, neither of you cared about that, at least. Lalo had other concerns. “Aww, you kickin’ me out, baby?” He asked teasingly as he lined his cock up with your unacceptably empty cunt. “That’s not nice.”

You started to apologize, but the words got caught in your throat as he sunk you back down onto his shaft. “I’m s-sorry… I’m so-ohhh, fuuuu-ah, y-yesss…”

“Shh, sh, sh, don’t worry. Oh, there we go...” He grabbed your hips and stroked his cock with your person, now chasing his own climax. “You’re being so good for me, baby…”

“Mmm, thank youuu…” You whined. 

“I’m-mm, I’m getting close, baby boy. Hah… ah… You want it inside? All nice and warm for you, yeah? You want me to fill you up?”

“Y-Yeeeah, f-fucking fill me uuup… fuuuck…”

“Okay, baby. I got you. I’ll fill you up.” Digging his nails into your handlebar hips, Lalo huffed and gasped as he thrust up into you. His balls slapped against your t-dick, making you scream as his hips moved faster, rougher, meaner, until they went still. He let out a primal groan and slid his arms up to your chest, pressing your body to his as he unloaded inside, rambling some sweet nonsense in his native tongue. “Mmm, buen chico… Qué buen chico… Mi chiquito lindooo… (Mmm, good boy... What a good boy… My little boy’s so cuuute…)”

It was serene. Peaceful. The most gorgeous night one could ask for. The fire pit was crackling. The crickets were chirping. The cum inside you was warm and fulfilling. It was honestly breathtaking. Sure, some strong weed and an even stronger orgasm could make any night seem beautiful, but no matter. It was beautiful nonetheless. A perfect end to your first full day. And if every day were to end like this, you’d be more than happy to keep them coming.

You both panted heavily as you gazed up at the stars in reverie, high out of your minds. It felt like eons before one of you broke the silence, and it wasn’t you.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

[ghostboyhood]

dude im

i think this is the first time in... as long as i can remember that life's actually going well. like sometimes life just Goes By until something bad happens or whatever... but like, ive had a lot of pretty good days in the past month ish? ive gone to two really amazing local shows recently, plus some other concerts, im seeing my favorite band next week, i might be making merch for another one of my favorite bands.... and yeah ive had shitty days and i got sick but like.. i remember those days well so the inbetween is just, that.. the in between... god idk becoming more involved in my local scene has been so fucking surreal..

[hot-take-tournament]

HOT TAKE TOURNAMENT

PRE-PRELIMINARY #63

"Prev tags" should never have become a thing.

[JUSTIFICATION UNDER THE CUT]

Pre-preliminaries will be used to determine what qualifies as a hot take. Propaganda is encouraged!

Also, remember to reblog your favourite polls for exposure! (exposure like when you’re exposed to the fact that the KISS Scooby Doo crossover does actually exist, scarring you for life)

"Prev tags" is just annoying, inefficient, only works sometimes, and just dumb as fuck. Like, if someone tells you a funny story, and you wanna relay it to someone else, you're gonna be like "Hey, this person told me a funny story! I'm gonna relay it to you." You WOULDN'T go up to someone and be like "GO FIND THIS PERSON WHO TOLD ME A FUNNY STORY." Like, holy shit that's just dumb. The scavenger hunt aspect simply is not worth it. In my experience, it NEVER is worth it. It just puts me in a bad mood. Plus, what if it's a long post? You want people to have to scroll up and down and up and down just to get to those tags? Holy shit, no! That's just irritating!

And people like to claim 'Oh, prev tags is an INTEGRAL feature to the site!" NO IT IS NOT. It started popping up in 2021. The first time I remember seeing it, it was a text post, and everyone was going "prev" and the OP's tags were just a "spike trap" joke, where it told people to prev tags them. THAT IS THE ORIGIN. Prev tags isn't an ancient feature from the era of SuperWhoLock that we cannot leave behind- in fact, in posts FROM that era, people would copy-paste or screenshot tags and commonly be like "Why would you leave this in the tags?" Prev tags can't do that!! We steal tags here, sir! Posting someone else's tags in the body of the post has been part of the site's culture for AGES!

Not to mention- prev tags has really bad archival issues. Say you're on a post, and there's something in the tags you consider a great addition, so you go "prev" along with the rest of your tags for posts like these. A month later, the person you "prev"d has deactivated for whatever reason, or maybe they've deleted the post. Those tags are gone. They are just GONE. You can't get them back, you can't view them again, the tags are completely gone. Meanwhile, screenshotting or copy-pasting the tags preserves them.

(This is, to a lesser extent, worse for me, since I have ADHD, which negatively impacts my memory. So no, I do not automatically remember my hilarious tags.)

Many people like to claim "Oh, that's not the point of it, prev tags is for privately telling the person who left the tags you appreciate them!" Which, first of all if they don't like prev tags, that'll just tick them off. But second of all... If you wanna tell them you liked their tags, message them??? A friendship of mine started and persists because my friend messages me posts I've tagged like "Good tags" or smth like that. That would not have happened if I'd just been "prev tags"d.

And if anything, prev tags decreases communication between us. That friend of mine and I have commonly had conversations about those tags, since they're most often related to blorbos. And our friendship is stronger because of that! If they'd just been like "prev" that wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't have had all those great conversations. I wouldn't have that friend. I know, messaging people scary, but I highly doubt people are gonna find being messaged about how awesome their tags were irritating. Please, just actually talk to EACH OTHER instead of talking in the tags! Subject yourself to the mortifying ideal of being known, it will reward you!

I'll die on this fucking hill. Out of any hill, I will die here.

[kaysutcliff-michaelis]

Aggretsuko rant after finishing season 5

I may mention things about past seasons so BEWARE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

AGGRETSUKO SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT, BE CAREFUL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Season 5 had me yelling, talking to myself and feeling like I need to start rewatching it right this instant after finishing it so that I can process everything properly. I really want to read comments and reviews about it but I’ll wait until I’m done writing this so that whatever I read doesn’t influence my rant. And don’t expect any order, rhyme or reason here, I can’t be bothered to make this look like a proper text.

THEY FUCKING GOT MARRIED? WHAT? WHAT? EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?????

It was incredibly cute and sweet how they just felt it was their time and eloped, no perfect wedding, no cute bride with her dress and no anything, just Haida and Retsuko. Four seasons raging because she wanted to be a cute bride with her wedding dress in a chapel and she ends up getting married at the registry in the middle of the night, who would have guessed! HOWEVER, it makes me sad that we didn’t see more about it. No rings, no family and friends’ reactions, not even a mention about it. This is supposed to be the final season, so the way A LOT of things were left makes me extremely confused.

We don’t know what Haida’s new job is. We don’t know who was behind the truck attack. We don’t know how come there’s a picture of them with Retsuko’s family now. We don’t know what the deal with Tadano, Gori and Washimi is. We don’t know how the stunt worked for OTM’s social media numbers. We don’t know what happened to that guy who offered Haida the construction work. There are so many things we don’t know! Idk, the ending felt a bit lackluster precisely because the second the elections ended the season was over and it feels there wasn’t proper closure for some points.

And why couldn’t we hear Shikabane singing??? ;__; It almost made me tear up how Retsuko offered her the microphone at the end, I was really hoping to hear them singing together.

I could relate a lot to Shikabane throughout the season. Those feelings of hopelessness, loneliness and having to constantly do something to keep your mind occupied so that you don’t succumb to those thoughts have been incredibly present in my life for the last months (going to therapy and relying on my supportive partner to try and get myself out of it), so I totally get where she was coming from and why she acts the way she does until the end. Plus her character design is SO CUTE. The platform shoes, the ribbons, the colour palette! Had me wishing I looked as cool and fashionable as her!

But Haida. OMG HAIDA. THIS GUY NEVER LEARNS. He was making bad decisions during season 4, but THIS. Retsuko is so patient with him, if my partner was ever in that situation and hid it from me that would probably be a deal breaker. Not because of him being jobless and homeless, but because I’d feel he doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m not reliable or that I won’t help him. He gets on my nerves so much, sometimes he’s the perfect ship for Retsuko and sometimes he just self-sabotages to the point of almost ruining his life. Annoyance aside though, I feel like their struggles as a couple are very realistic and I enjoy that. The struggles of all the characters in general are realistic.

AND SPEAKING OF SHIKABANE, HAIDA AND THE WHOLE NET CAFE THING. I was so shocked because literally two days ago I was watching a video by Nekojita vlog (Spanish-Japanese couple who has been doing Youtube for some years now) talking about this topic, women who live in manga kisas either because they cannot afford an apartment (with the money it would get you just to pay rent you have food, showers, washing machines, drinks, internet and a place to sleep if you find a good deal) or because their lifestyle is more suited to this (maybe they work most of the day/night and it is better to rent a booth for a few hours to crash there than be bothering with rent, bills, neighbours and all that stuff). I found the topic super interesting and it was quite a surprise to see it was one of the main points of the season.

The second part of the season threw me off a bit with the whole “suddenly Retsuko is running up for Parliament” thingy, I really dislike politics and it felt a bit like propaganda, it reminded me of this random Modern Family arc in which Claire is running for the council. Despite that, I think some real-life issues that need urgent addressing were mentioned and it would be good if that raised awareness about them in Japan, like how difficult and expensive it is to have your child in kindergarten (me hating politics doesn’t mean I don’t know about how messed up things are there). It also made me feel bad that Manaka and Hyodo kinda sold Retsuko to this creepy Ikari guy just so that they could get free publicity for OTM Girls. And Tadano buying the net cafe so that he can have it for himself??? He left so many people like Shikabane homeless with that move, he could just have remodeled his apartment. Overall this second part had some great moments but some bad stuff that leaves a bittersweet taste for me. And it annoys me that we don’t know who attacked Haida at the end so that Retsuko would quit!! I was so worried that he would die or end at the hospital and in the end nothing really comes out of this event (except for the eloping) and the next day he’s there playing with her (extremely cool btw) like he didn’t get hit by a truck the day before.

Selling Retsuko to Ikari for clout aside, I honestly felt jealous (in a good way) for Retsuko’s support network. I rewatched the whole thing during February so that I would be ready for season 5 and something that really caught my attention was how she gets more and more allies and how much teamwork there is.

Gori and Washimi the best friends ever!

Tadano who saves the day each time he appears, Retsy and him are cut out to be a couple but they sure are to be friends and allies!

Tsunoda and Fenneko being the unexpected wingman team?? They carried so much of seasons 4 and 5.

Anai doing a 180 and going from crazy newbie to someone who legit cares about his coworkers! He has evolved so much thanks to Kabae and his gf!

Director Ton OMG DIRECTOR TON, went from villain to that brutally honest but really supportive person who sometimes seems to know her better than anyone! And his daughters being part of the action of seasons 3 and 4?? And the whole family teamwork at the end of season 4 when they were trying to get the flash drive???? Loved that.

Manaka and the bodyguards making sure Retsuko was safe (Manaka in general with that bat full of nails is super cool). Though she’s still Manaka, 90% of the time I really like her but the other 10% I think she doesn’t care who she has to sacrifice for her idol career... Same goes for Hyodo.

It’s so wholesome to see how much she has evolved since the first season and how she relies on others and her trust is being rewarded.

I don’t really know what to think of her parents though. Her mother seems to have good intentions on the last seasons but in season 2 she’s just the most nosy and meddlesome mother ever. AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HAIDA’S FAMILY. I honestly feel bad for his mother, she looked so kind and she has to deal with crazy obsessive Juzo and Jiro. So manipulative, so money-centered, I don’t believe ONE BIT, what Jiro said about him not being behind the truck attack. And if he wasn’t him, it was their dad, how else would he know about what happened? I wanted Haida and Retsuko to tell them to shut their mouths and go to hell SO MUCH.

Random, but the Juliana’s references throughout the series gave me life XD The Bubbly Land ad made me crack up.

So no that the series is supposedly over, I think my fave season is season 3. To me it was perfect in every aspect: the plot, the character designs, the pacing, the ending, the soundtrack... Second place is shared by the Tadano arc in season 2 and the net cafe arc in season 5. Then we have the second part of season 4, all of season 1 and the second part of season 5. And finally the beginning of seasons 2 and 4. Not that Aggretsuko has any bad seasons or episodes, but I certainly cherish some more than others.

I said it before but I really think like I need to watch the season again to process everything that happened and gather my thoughts on it. Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow or in a few days, maybe not. If this is the end, I want to say that since I watched Retsuko for the first time I have related A LOT to the characters and their situations at different points of my life or regarding different aspects of it. The show has got me through so many shifts and has felt so cathartic when I was done with my job and wanted to death voice all my customers and coworkers. I’m so grateful that this show exists to drop a sea urchin in the desert from time to time and remind us that things aren’t as hopeless as they may seem.

[atranswomansdiary]

Day 223

January 14, 2021

There’s a storm coming… And it’s not out there, but inside me.

I’ve never been a “vacation person”. What I mean by this is that vacations have never been something inherently attractive for me, even when I was young and they were like two and half months long. Maybe it was because of the way I was raised—among a piss poor family—when, even in the rare occasions when we got to go out on vacation together, it was mostly a frustrating and boring affair when we traveled in uncomfortable and/or dangerous conditions to not-so-nice places. I can’t remember a single vacation in my almost 35 years on this Earth when I was actually relaxed and forgot about the world and my problems, as I’ve heard other people describe their vacations.

When I turned into a full grown-up/adult, I was never long enough under the employment of a feudal corporate liege to get the benefit of a paid vacation. Whatever “vacation” or free time I’ve had in the past decade plus was the one we poor people get: with no benefits or payment, locked up at home, worried sick.

We call it “unemployment”.

I say this because, as much as I enjoy working with most people at the job I’m currently in, I can’t help but feel more and more uncomfortable around them as time passes by. And it’s not like they’re doing anything purposefully—at least, I don’t think they are—but… It’s just the name. My name.

The more time passes by, the more I’m uncomfortable by being called by my own fucking name. Yes, the one I was given at birth, alongside the role of “man” that I’m pretty sure now I was never supposed to have, as I discuss extensively on Day 47. It just makes my skin crawl whenever I hear it. I’ve always hated it, but now it’s just driving me insane. I don’t want it. I can’t stand it anymore.

So, considering that context, it shouldn't surprise you that, although I have little to no experience with vacations, I am now desperately looking forward to get my first paid one in… Fifteen years or so? This week has been the longest of my life in a while and I couldn’t wait to finally reach Friday—I can’t believe it’s tomorrow at long fucking last!—and forget about work… But mostly about my own fucking name. For a couple of weeks, at least.

I’ve read and watched trans people often referring to their previous names as “deadnames”… And I think I begin to understand what they’re talking about.

Although I don’t have a new name yet (I haven’t given the topic much thought, to be honest), the one I was given at birth has gone from a nuisance into an issue and now it’s just a constant headache. A motherfucking EVA 10, brain-melting one.

Before it used to be just an ugly thing I had to live with, but now I just find it unbearable and even infuriating at times. So much so that, sometimes, I get this feeling inside of me, an anger growing up in my stomach and rising up, and the only thing I want is to scream back at them THAT IS NOT MY NAME!

I don’t do it, of course, because a) I don’t want to lose this job and b) besides, they’d probably ask, “What’s your name, then?” and what would I say in that situation? “I have no idea, but at least not that one (?).” Even I find that answer insufficient, to say the least.

So here I am, dreading the prospect of going to work each day even more so than before. And when I come back home, I feel exhausted and spent. It doesn’t really help that I have no one to talk to besides my mom. Even A.P., who used to come here often before, doesn’t do so anymore. He used to call me and we would speak for hours, as well, but that also doesn’t happen anymore. J.C. is busy with family and work—as he has been for the past decade or so—and so I come back everyday to an apartment that is more or less filled with stuff, but devoid of precious human life.

I just want to lie down and sleep for a decade.

I know, I know: that sounds like good ol’ depression, doesn’t it? I’ve been feeling the familiar dread these past few days, I admit. Although New Year’s with my family was great (as I noted on Day 211), after that my mood has been going downhill. I’ve been feeling lonelier and lonelier, and I’m having a hard time finding reasons to go to work, eat or even do anything besides sleeping. And when I sleep (which is how most of my days come and go), my dreams are filled with nightmares. I don’t remember them, but the exhaustion and being emotionally spent afterwards are as real as anything else in this world, I assure you.

Come to think of it, maybe this is the result of the wonderful New Year’s I had at my parents’ house. I know it sounds weird, but hear me (read me?) out.

Before that, I was as alone and isolated as I am now, but I didn’t see any alternative. But after that day back at my parents, I can now envision going back to live with them as a better option to my lonely and isolated current life. And, although I (romantically) imagined living alone as a tortured genius for a while (insert rolling eyes so hard that you can see the back of your head), I don’t think I imagined it to be the permanent state of affairs.

I think that, if I’m being honest with myself, I live alone because I wanted to be independent and have the ability to socialize on my own terms and times, not because I wanted to be a hermit—for all intents and purposes—for the rest of my life. But I don’t see how I will ever socialize anymore, not after what happened on Day 126. I think I feel so alone and isolated these days because I’m actually avoiding going out or engaging with anybody out of crippling fear of being rejected and harmed.

I think that I’m really looking forward to my paid vacation because I see it as a golden opportunity to clear my head and make up my mind about a couple of things, such as whether I’m actually going to transition (or not); whether I’m going to keep on living alone (or going back to my parents’); and whether or not I’ll keep on working in a currently-comfortable-but-maybe-not-so-much-so-in-the-future place.

Until then, with love,

ZZ

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Pining (2) Masterlist

part one

A Daydream Away (I Wouldn't Know What to Say if I Had You) (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke, minor calum/ashton T, 4k

Summary: The problem with falling in love, Luke thinks, is that you never really stop falling.

All The Mistakes I've Made (ao3) - mukeofficial michael/luke E, 33k

Summary: After spending over a week separated from Michael when he lost his passport in the States, Luke was relieved to finally be reunited with him. But after spending some more time with his best friend, Luke realizes his feelings for Michael are a lot stronger than he ever intended.

crimson and cream (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: Luke’s it for Calum. He’s always kind of known it, he’s just been patient. Waiting for some intangible thing that will make the time right. He’s not waiting for Luke to realize Calum’s it for him too. Luke also already knows. He just hasn’t quite realized he deserves to have what he wants.

Crush (ao3) - Calumthoodshands (tndart) luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: It's Calum's birthday, and Luke agreed to come - against his better judgement. Because how the hell is he going to talk to the guy he's had a crush on for over half a year now?

does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me (ao3) - orphan_account michael/calum E, 11k

Summary: Michael feels everything for Calum, and he needs to know if it's mutual.

fate lines (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum E, 44k

Summary: Calum makes decisions based on things that happen, and his life is a result of his series of choices, not some higher power pulling the strings. But there’s always an anomaly to the rule. To be discounted if looking at a trend, but there for a reason.

Luke Hemmings is Calum’s anomaly.

Because one thing Calum does know for sure. He met Luke Hemmings for a reason. He’s just never been sure what that reason is.

for real (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum E, 63k

Summary: There’s an order to things in LA. An established code of conduct between celebrity and mere mortal, wherein the mere mortal does not engage with the celebrity unless it is an approved event, like a red carpet or a meet & greet. It’s a symbiotic relationship that allows the celebrities to live their lives in relative peace and allows the mere mortals to look upon their beauty in the wild.

i feel the wind in my hair, chasing after you (ao3) - hideforalifetime luke/ashton G, 18k

Summary: Luke works more than he should, is paid less than he should be for the amount of hours he works, goofs off at lunch with Calum, goes home to his dog Petunia in the evening and watches whatever’s on HBO. Then he does it all over again. And he’s sick of it. He wants a change. He wants to be the guy he was in college, free of all worries like rent and bills and all that bullshit. Just walking from class to the dorm to the bar, and every weekend, he’d go off on his own, just him and his motorbike. 

Or, the one where workaholic, control freak biker Luke Hemmings meets the most laid back guy he's ever seen. And he's hot, which is a plus.

'I'm already something, to someone I dont know' (ao3) -Forbiddenmichael luke/ashton G, 5k

Summary: luke has been in love with his best friend for so long, and now the time to tell ashton his feelings has long since past

in the in between (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 32k

Summary: “What the fuck is this?”

It’s pretty much Luke’s first full spoken-in-person-sentence to Calum in months.

It’s his first sentence to Calum in months, and he’s yelling it in the middle of his driveway at seven in the morning, while a dog yelps back at him from down the street. It’s perfect.

“I thought you said you wanted iced coffee,” Calum replies defensively, consciously diverting his eyes away from Luke’s face because it’s the only way he can be sure he’s not staring. He needs to act normal, but he can’t remember exactly what acting normal around Luke actually entails. Probably not constantly shifting his eyes around like he’s possessed. He forces his eyes back to Luke’s face before Luke goes off in search of a priest skilled in exorcisms.

Le Chatelier's Principle (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 54k

Summary: Ever since being promoted to head waiter, Luke had had one problem that came in the form of a six foot, curly-headed, hazel eyed demon. And by demon, he meant his frustratingly stubborn, unfairly attractive co-worker, Ashton Irwin.

Made in Magnolia - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 220k

Summary: There’s that feeling again. The warmth and the electricity that travels between them which lacks nerves or pretenses or any semblance of who they have been in the past. Calum isn’t the same guy who usually gets fucked and kicked out when he gets invited to stay the night. Ashton isn’t the same guy who got married at twenty in Mississippi. They’re new when they’re together.

Magnet Souls (ao3) - jbhmalum calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 42k

Summary: Ashton loves sex a whole lot, Calum hates the thought of it. They’re soulmates. Alternatively, a story about self-respect and compromise in the name of love.

(not) just friends (ao3) - galacticsugar michael/luke T, 4k

Summary: His eyes land on the folded paper, drawn in by Luke’s scrawling handwriting.

Specifically, on his name in Luke’s handwriting.

Casually, like he’s being watched, Michael picks up the paper and carefully unfolds it. It’s from one of those hotel room pads, branded with the hotel logo, which Luke improved with some artful squiggles. At the top, it says Michael Mix, the peaks of the Ms rising high above the rest of the letters, both words underlined twice. And below that, a list of songs.

Off-stage (ao3) - nothingliketherain (39_killer_queen) ot4 T, 6k

Summary: Or 3 times the boys kiss Luke on stage + 1 time Luke kisses them all off stage

tell me what you like (it's okay, i'm curious too) (ao3) - orphan_account michael/calum E, 11k

Summary: Somehow, telling Calum straight up that he may want to fuck him while he wears women’s clothing doesn’t seem like the brightest idea Michael’s ever had.

or: It’s an amalgamation of things Michael never would have considered: Ashley’s wig and a tight jean skirt.

Also: Calum.

The Best Thing (the way it’s supposed to be) (ao3) - gravityinglass michael/calum m, 87k

Summary: Or, the story of how 5 Seconds of Summer became a band (starting from the beginning) and how Michael Clifford realized he’d always been in love with Calum Hood (not starting from the beginning, not even close), and how taking on the world turned out to be less daunting than it seemed.

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 40k

Summary: Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons. 

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

Tongue-Tied And White Lie Addicted (ao3) - fourdrunksluts michael/ashton, luke/calum E, 50k

Summary: Michael's just finished his undergrad and is ready to stop messing around with strangers and get more serious about his studies as he prepares for his dream job. No relationships, no sex. Which is harder than it sounds when Ashton Irwin comes into his life.

Where You Go, I’ll Follow (ao3) -  fourdrunksluts, reversecow calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 211k 

Summary: Longsos,  / lŏng·saws /

Noun

A documentation of 5 Seconds of Summer from the very beginning. 

*

This story follows Calum, Michael, Luke, and Ashton on their journey to self-discovery. Through first loves, heartbreaks, and friendship, this is the behind the scenes of what the cameras didn’t show through the years.