#Sometimes I feel the need to point out that Words Mean Things to the people around me

[buzzinrusso]

New years meeting

I'm sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice !! It's based off this request a very nice anon sent !

---

New Year's Eve had arrived, and the city was buzzing with excitement. The streets were filled with people heading to parties, clubs, and bars to ring in the new year. You, however, weren’t looking for wild celebrations. After a hectic year, you just wanted a quiet evening to unwind, so you decided to stop by a low-key bar for a drink. The vibe was just what you needed—chilled, yet festive enough to enjoy the night

But as you sat at the bar nursing your drink, an overly confident guy had started making things uncomfortable. He slid into the seat next to you, a forced grin on his face as he eyed you up.

“Hey, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone on New Year’s Eve?” he said, his voice too loud for the quiet setting.

You smiled politely, hoping he’d take the hint. “Just having a drink. I’m good, thanks,” you said, keeping your gaze on your glass.

But the guy didn’t back off. He leaned in closer, his breath smelling faintly of whiskey. “C’mon, I bet you could use some company tonight. We could have a good time together.”

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to give him a pointed look. “I’m really not interested,” you said, your voice firmer this time.

He ignored you, moving even closer, reaching out a hand to touch your arm. “Come on, don’t be shy,” he said, his hand inching toward yours.

At that moment, you felt a sharp presence beside you—someone stepping in. You turned to see a woman with dark hair, wearing a sleek leather jacket, standing tall with a confident air. It was Alexia.

“Hey,” Alexia said, her tone calm but firm. “She said she’s not interested, so you’re going to have to piss off.”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden interruption. “What?” he mumbled, squinting at Alexia as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I said piss off,” Alexia repeated, her voice unwavering. She stepped closer to him, eyes locking onto his with such intensity that it made the guy visibly stumble back. "She told you she’s not interested. Take the hint and move along."

The guy opened his mouth, but no words came out. He glanced at Alexia and then at you, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win this one. Finally, he muttered something incoherent and slunk away, disappearing into the crowd.

You blinked, surprised at how easily Alexia had handled the situation.

"Thanks," you said, still a little shaken but relieved. "I didn’t know how else to get him to leave me alone."

“No problem,” Alexia said with a reassuring smile. She glanced at you, her eyes softening. “Some people just don’t get the message. Glad I could help.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension start to leave your body. “That was exactly what I needed. I was about to lose my patience.”

Alexia gave you a light laugh. “I’ve had to do that more times than I can count. People don’t seem to understand what ‘no’ means sometimes.”

You smiled, finally feeling like you could relax. “I guess I owe you one. I didn’t think anyone would step in.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t owe me anything. But if you’re feeling generous, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink with you.”

You chuckled, feeling the ice break between you. “That sounds great. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Alexia,” she replied with a smirk. “And you?”

“y/n,” you answered, offering your hand.

She shook it firmly, her smile warm and genuine. There was something about the way she carried herself that made you feel comfortable, even in this crowded bar.

The two of you made your way to the bar to grab another round, and as you stood there, Alexia’s teammates from the other side of the room—Mapi, Irene, Patri, and Claudia—were watching, clearly noticing the dynamic between you two.

---

As Alexia ordered drinks, her teammates couldn’t help but exchange a few glances and muttered remarks. Mapi, ever the loud one, leaned over to Irene with a playful grin. “Look at Lex. First she saves the stranger, and now she’s all cozy with her.”

Irene raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping up on her face. “We all know ale isn’t exactly the talk-to-random-strangers type. She must be into her.”

Alexia had her back turned, not hearing the conversation, but you couldn’t help but notice the way her teammates were eyeing the two of you. Patri shot a knowing smirk at Claudia, who was trying to suppress her own grin.

“You think ale is going to kiss her before midnight?” Patri asked, her tone amused.

Claudia shook her head, but her lips curled into a small smile. “With the way she’s looking at her, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

The teasing continued as Alexia returned with the drinks, but she didn’t let it faze her. She was used to her teammates giving her a hard time. “Here you go,” Alexia said, handing you your drink. “Ignore them—they love to poke fun.”

You laughed, taking the drink. “I think they might be onto something though. You’ve got a bit of that ‘heart-eyes’ look right now.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “They’re insufferable,” she muttered under her breath, but there was an amused sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you.

Just as the conversation died down, Patri called out loudly from across the bar, “Hey, ale, don’t forget! It’s New Year’s Eve—perfect time for a kiss, right?”

Alexia shot a glare at her, but the playful smile she gave you showed no signs of being upset. “Ignore her,” Alexia said with a chuckle. “She’s just looking for drama.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her presence. "Well, if you insist on ignoring them, I guess I’ll just have to keep you company instead."

---

The night continued on, filled with laughter, teasing, and good conversation. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the energy in the bar grew more intense. The countdown began, and you could feel the anticipation in the air.

Alexia was standing a little closer now, and every glance you exchanged made your heart flutter. Finally, when the clock struck midnight, the whole bar erupted in cheers. You felt Alexia step closer, her breath warm against your skin, and without a second thought, she leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a slow, lingering kiss. It was brief, but it carried so much unspoken energy between you two—an electric charge that made everything around you disappear for a moment. When she pulled back, her smile was soft, and her eyes sparkled with something deeper.

"Happy New Year," Alexia whispered, her voice just for you.

"Happy New Year," you replied, feeling your heart race, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t care about anything else.

---

The days after New Year’s Eve were filled with messages, phone calls, and casual conversations that made you smile every time you checked your phone. Alexia had texted you the morning after the party, and you had quickly exchanged texts, agreeing to go on a proper date.

“Had a great time with you last night. Wanna grab dinner sometime this week?” Alexia had messaged you.

Your heart fluttered as you quickly responded, “Absolutely. When’s good for you?”

She replied almost instantly: “How about Thursday? There’s this great Italian place I know. The food’s amazing.”

“Sounds perfect. Can’t wait,” you texted back, already excited about the idea of seeing her again.

---

Thursday evening rolled around, and you found yourself waiting outside the restaurant, your heart beating faster with anticipation. When Alexia arrived, you couldn’t help but smile. She looked effortlessly stunning in a black leather jacket, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” she greeted you with a soft smile. “Ready to eat?”

“Definitely,” you replied with a grin, feeling your nerves ease as soon as she was in front of you.

The meal was perfect—casual yet intimate, with easy conversation flowing. You laughed, talked about everything from your favorite foods to the random little details that made each of you unique. You felt like you were learning more about her with every sentence.

By the end of the evening, you exchanged numbers for real, saved each other's contacts, and promised to keep in touch. Alexia smiled at you, her gaze soft and her heart-eyes unmistakable.

“I’m glad we did this,” she said, her voice quieter now, but full of sincerity.

“Me too,” you replied, feeling the connection between you grow stronger. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Neither can I,” Alexia said, her hand brushing yours as she pulled away, a grin on her face.

As she drove away, you stood there, watching her leave with a heart full of possibility, knowing that this was just the beginning of something amazing.

---

And so, with a kiss, a few exchanged messages, and the start of something real, you and Alexia began to explore what this new year had in store for the both of you.

And that night , you both didn't know it, but you had each net the love of your lives . Your New years meeting would become a story that you would tell to your kids , and a story that your kids will tell to their kids.

[swingandadrive]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ green to silver

⊳ fernando alonso x f! reader | lewis hamilton x f! reader

⊳ fluff angst | age gap

⊳ summary: sometimes letting go is for the best

⊳ words: 836

You loved..love Fernando, you really do. It was weird, to feel that love slowly form into hate.

You knew hate could turn into love, but love to hate? That was something unexplainable.

Actually, you could explain very bluntly. Fernando stopped caring. He stopped loving.

“Y/n, princess..I promise you this weekend will be all yours, I’m sorry” He’d say as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then disappear for the rest of the night.

You didn’t know what had gone wrong, or why it had happened. You hated being called princess, yet he still called you it.

“Listen Y/n, I’m busy with work..I’m not performing as well, I'm stressed and have other things going on!” Fernando yells, hands going up as he tries to get his point across, again.

It was repetitive. It was the same cycle.

You look at him, a frown on your face as you cried- you knew. You always knew. Deep down you knew he’d never be enough for you, his words- his promises, the “I’m sorry” or “I’ll try harder” meant nothing.

“You just aren’t my top priority right now..” He’d remind you again.

For whatever reason you stayed, you weren’t sure why. You’d cry yourself to sleep more nights than you’d admit, always asking yourself what you saw in him and why you were staying.

After three years, you’d expect to be treated better.

“Listen- amor you need to stop treating our relationship like a marriage, we aren’t married” Fernando says, wiping a tear from your face.

You knew what he meant, but did you really? It always felt twisted when he said those words.

Almost like your relationship truly didn’t mean that much to him.

“Hey love, how are you doing?” Lewis says, giving you a side hug, smiling gently at you.

You knew Lewis, you’ve known Lewis for a little longer than you knew of Fernando- Lewis is the reason you two got together.

Now Lewis had always been kind to you, maybe too kind. You knew Lewis was an attractive individual, he’d shown interest in you.

You’d never admit it but you’d think of him softly from time to time.

“I’m alright, just tired is all” You say with a soft smile, eyes fighting the urge to close and stay closed.

You spent another night in an argument with Fernando.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is! It’s truly not that serious amor!” Fernando says, back to you.

“It’s serious to me Nando! It matters to me, I just need you to understand that..” You say, reaching out towards him.

Being ten years younger than him had always been in the back of your mind, personally you would say you weren’t insecure about it, but it definitely weighed you down.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s okay, Y/n” He says with a sigh, turning to face you and place a kiss on your lips.

I’m sorry.

How many times have you heard that? To you an apology was null and void without change.

“I think we should take a break- I..I want this break” Fernando says, it was the first thing he said to you after he returned from a Grand Prix.

You sit in bed, mind trying to wrap around at what he was saying. A break? Why the fuck would he want a break if he loves you.

“But- but what about what I want? I don’t get it Fernando” You say, tears starting to slip. You didn’t deserve this, you were amazing to him.

“I need to focus on what I want, I have other priorities right now” He says, sitting down next to you on your bed.

So what you wanted didn’t matter? In a relationship with two people, what you wanted didn’t matter?

That doesn’t make sense.

“I still want to be together, I still want you in my life..I just need a break”

Oh.

“So what? All of the moments were for nothing?” You whisper out, not being able to talk above a whisper without falling into tears.

“I don’t know”

You sit there, mind rushing as you try to collect yourself.

It confused you, because first of all you’re both adults, was this simply just immaturity on his part?

It had been two weeks, message after message had been sent to Fernando’s screen, and you hadn’t got any response.

So you officially broke it off, he wanted to stay loyal, to wait it out.

But how could you when Lewis was standing right there?

He wrapped his arms around you, holding onto you as you cried and mumbled out nonsense into his chest.

“It’s alright, love…you’ll be okay” He whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your head.

You grip onto Lewis’s hand as you both walk into the Britain GP, sunglasses on and head down as you hear the multiple cameras go off.

You knew there would be posts, articles and pictures everywhere.

Y/n L/n and Fernando Alonso broke up, and not only that, she got with Lewis Hamilton.

Instagram

y/n.l/n

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and others

y/n.l/n recently…

Comments on this post have been limited

lewishamilton: ❤️❤️❤️

y/n.l/n: ❤️❤️

carmenmmundt: so great to see you again!! 💛

y/n.l/n: you as well carmen! ❤️

lando: come to mclaren

y/n.l/n: no

lewishamilton: not a chance mate

lando: no fun

chloestroll: miss you ☹️

y/n.l/n: awh miss you too 🫶🥹

user7492 bro she is such a bop like what

user0183 nando is way better

user47399 i don’t think she gaf 😭

user0183 well she should

user93702 ew she should start dating someone her age, what a gold digger tf

user5378 her and nando seemed off at previous GPs I wonder what happened

user6363 she prob cheated let’s be real 😭

alexandrasaintmleux: can’t wait to see more of you ❤️

y/n.l/n: so excited!! ily so much 🫶

user3929 why do so many of you judge her 😭 like you don’t even know her 😭

Liked by author

You stifle a sob as you wipe the tears from your phone screen, letting the message from Fernando go unread.

Why couldn’t someone see it from your perspective? Why could no one try to understand, or just try.

You would never be happy, would you?

⊳ I needed to write something angst so this is that! I hope it was a good read. It was a short write but a fun one!! please leave any comments or requests!!

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Do you ever read a post where someone is explaining a pokitical thing and from the way they're saying you know with absolute certainty 1) they got their info from a tumblr post and have never actually followed up on how feasible that information actually is to act upon (they may not even have checked if it was CORRECT, but when they do they have clearly not looked into how easy or hard it may be to follow those instructions with a positive outcome), and 2) you know WHICH tumblr post they're quoting because it is basically a copy/paste of it, and 3) it was YOUR goddamn post and the thing they are saying is entirely counter to the point you were making when you said it to the point that you genuinely wonder if they just like. Memory-holed the entire context once they saw that one itty bitty point.

It's like the motherfuckiny dating apps all over again. I do not want people to love my words if they are not actually willing to do the work of understanding them! Didn't your kindergarten ever make you play Telephone to teach you how heresay falls out????

[i-am-basil-boi]

Man, I’m glad that I’m at least theoretically allowed to tell people when they’re being bigoted in small, seemingly inconspicious ways that build to reveal a deeper, more harmful misunderstanding about the problems I run into as a person going throughout my daily life that they have the luxury of ignoring because they’re straight, white, cisgendered, neurotypical, and/or able-bodied, but why does it always have to be me examining your biases for you

[fearcicada]

Jonathan Sims and Aromanticism as being disconnected from and unrelatable to other children, As never being romantically interested in someone during your school years because you don’t have time for that nonsense, you’re focused on your studies, you don’t like spending time around others. As no one being romantically interested in you until college – at that point, do you even know what romance is? What it feels like? As dating someone because they like you – You might as well date Georgie, she’s interested in you, and you like her well enough as a friend. Is this what love is? As not being interested in sex either. What is there to define the difference between romantic and platonic feelings that doesn’t involve physicality? As going into asexual spaces and always seeing the “we may not like sex but we still love people and want relationships like anyone else!!!” takes. As already being closed off, rude, an acquired taste for most. When it’s already hard for most people to want to be your friend - romantic relationships seem even more unrealistic. Already having a lack of personal relationships in your life - not exactly helped by not being interested in most people’s idea of “romantic relationships.” As being less aware of things like flirting and romance than most (because of said lack of personal relationships your entire life). As being completely unaware of someone else liking you for months/years even when it seemed like, really really obvious to everyone else. As having less and less people around you who don't hate your guts or are dead and having the one person who doesn't hate you, wanting to date you? Like romantically? As feeling inhuman. As questioning your humanity. As trying to define your humanity through romance. As being green themed and covered in eyes and becoming the lynchpin of the apocalypse<333

[s-soulwriter]

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[medicinemane]

.

[fluffylino]

angry sex with mean!dom minho

things get heated when the two of yall decide to have a petty argument.

-contains mature themes (minho is mean but its all consensual...sir kink?!?!?)

minho's pissed.

you're pissed.

the atmosphere in the apartment is beyond unimaginable. you came back from university, in a bad mood. sometimes people merely existing made you angry.

you couldn't explain it but you weren't in a great mood at all, and you weren't in the mood to try and make yourself calm down.

minho comes home, half an hour later. quietly entering and slamming the front door behind him.

not even bothering to keep his keys on the glass table with more care. walking right past you to the bedroom.

he has that look on his face when he joins you in the kitchen. drinking the water you had poured for him absentmindedly.

"wash the glass, will you" you mutter, sighing in exasperation. you knew this would only make things worse.

"what?" and his tone gets laced with irritation.

"i had a bad day, okay and i'm not in a good mood" you say to him. leaning back on the fridge.

"yeah? you think i'm not having a fucked up day too?" he spits back, crossing his arms, ready for battle.

"i never said that. stop being so bitchy"

"fix your attitude." minho warns. looking down at his feet before rolling his eyes at your behaviour.

"stop rolling your eyes at me" pointing a finger at him in annoyance.

"don't point a finger at me"

raising an eyebrow at you with a challenging look in his eyes.

"why don't you just go pick a fight with chan or seungmin"

you seethe out, not wanting to argue. if the two of you got more time to calm your nerves this wouldn't have happened.

"pick a fight? what the fuck"

he mutters under his breath. and it makes your eyes burn with tears. now he's mad at you.

"what fucking attitude do i have. i'm sick of dealing with people"

you raise your voice, exhaling heavily.

"and you think i'm not? i just had dance practice for nearly six hours and they told me i needed to do better"

minho says through gritted teeth. running his fingers through his messy hair.

"maybe you do need to do better" you snark back. wanting to get on his nerves just for the hell of it.

"watch what you say."

he warns for the second time and you take it as a challenge.

"or what? you're going to give me a lecture on how to..."

bringing your hands up to gesture quotation marks

"...fix my attitude?"

.

🐱

.

"not gonna fight back huh." your mouth opens to curse at him. and he uses it as the opportunity to pull you back.

ramming himself deeper into you.

"fucking brat"

minho grits out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides. grip strong enough to have him holding you up singlehandedly if he wanted to.

"took it too far. i'm a bitch?" his voice shakes when your arms give in. falling face down into the sheets. back arched and ass up. the position makes things more sensitive.

"answer me."

you can't. teething at the pillow while you fisted at the soft bedsheets beside you. trying to ground yourself.

the feeling of his length pushing in and out of you with slow hard thrusts. torturing himself just to torture you.

"answer." eyes widening at the way he lays a sharp slap over your cunt. all while pulling out all the way.

"me."

sliding past your swollen walls with a filthy squelch. his force strong enough to have your whole body jerk forward. gasping in ecstasy.

you shake your head. or atleast try to, eyes rolling back at the strength he uses to meanly shove your thighs even further apart.

till you're practically presenting to him.

"open that smart ass mouth and use your fucking words." his tone dropping. theres a heartbeat of silence as he gives you a few seconds to answer him.

"ah- m-minnie"

moaning embarassingly loud when he slides his hand down the curve of your back. tugging a fistful of your hair, forcing you up on your arms. till you're on your fours.

"minnie? its sir to you. you don't deserve to even call me minho."

scalp burning with a mix of pain and pleasure.

your mind buzzing when he also gets on his fours. body pressing into yours from above.

"who's a bitch now"

minho says in your ear. brushing his lips against your earlobe. it sends a wave of heat straight to your cunt. throbbing uncontrollably around his dick.

the position has you thinking of how pathetic you are. cursing him out, only to be fucked like a dog from behind.

"are you my needy little bitch" hooking his chin on your shoulder. his arms on either side of yours.

thick thighs framing your smaller ones. you feel small under him. small and weak.

"y-yes sir" whispering softly. chest burning with humiliation. he clicks his tongue. not satisfied.

"speak up, mutt."

"yes sir...m'your needy bitch"

fucking the sentence out of you, in a way that has you breathless. arms trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

"taking it like you're in heat."

slowing his thrusts to roll his hips into yours. hitting that spongey spot that has you keening for him.

"next time you act like a fucking brat, don't expect me to be this kind"

he warns, subtly rubbing at the redness on your sides from how hard he was gripping your waist.

you nod vigorously. quietly mumbling apologies.

"is my needy puppy gonna take me all the way in her tight wet cunt hm"

.

.

.

"if i'm your bitch, you're my bitch" you whisper, lightly smacking him on the chest.

"i never said i wasn't a bitch" minho smirks, successfully teasing you.

"y'know i love you, right baby?" he mumbles, kissing your cheek lovingly.

"you're my cute little puppygirl or WAIT MY KITTY CAT!!!"

.

.

..

.

.

tada!

[timmydraker]

Tim had a jumper that doesn’t seem all that special, but to Alfred, Bruce and Dick is incredibly important. Dare they say vital to caring for Tim.

It’s a big wooly thing, once a pale mossy green but now with a hint of brown and white from fading and use. It’s too big for him to the point that the sleeves have to be bunched up when worn and even than they hang over his hands.

It looks like a dress on him, which isn’t help but his naturally slim build.

The jumper is held in such high regard because when Tim puts it on it means that he’s not feeling like he usually does.

His confidence, his snark, his wit, and his mental strength is either hard to reach or impossible.

Tim, in the only instance he actually talked about what was going on when he wasn’t wearing the jumper, said he felt both like a tiny little fish in a giant pond and like his skin was a sheet of paper.

Bruce talked to Dinah about it and said it was most likely a form of mental regression, but Tim refused for it to be called him being ‘little’ or anything that would remind him of being a kid again.

Because he doesn’t act like a kid, but maybe it’s not right to associate Tim Drake with a normal child behaviour pattern. He doesn’t babble or whine or want to watch kids shows like Dinah had suggest he might, but he does go non verbal or only say one or two words in response to pretty much anything.

He puts his jumper on and will just… sit there.

Tim is always moving or thinking, always doing, but when he gets in his ‘jumper state’ as Alfred calls it, he tends to slow down completely and just want to sit somewhere warm and feel the fluff of his carefully maintained jumper.

Sometimes, he seeks out warmth outside of heaters and fires and the sun.

It’s on one of those days when Tim stalks down to the Cave with his jumper on, hair messy over his head and hands held up to his chest in an almost shy manner.

Jason notices him first and simply raises an eyebrow in confusion while Damian scoffs, “What on earth are you wearing, Drake? That looks moldy-“

But Tim doesn’t even look at him, eyes on the floor as he goes over to Bruce at the computer and pokes the older man’s shoulder once before retracting his hand.

Bruce immediately turns and opens his arms, an almost heartbroken look on his face as he lets Tim drawl onto his lap and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got you. Anything in particular or just one of those days?”

Tim speaks in a voice like a husk that Damian and Jason only hear because they’ve come closer and sound travels in the cave, “Janet, birthday.”

Bruce Wayne, The Batman, The Caped Crusader, then fucking coos and kisses his head before rocking him slightly.

“That makes sense. Do you need someone here tonight? I can call Dick or stay myself if you need.”

The two other boys in the room look at each other, shocked to hear Bruce say he will give up a patrol to seemingly cuddle someone.

Tim shakes his head, “Alfred.”

Bruce nods, kissing his head again and saying, “Thank you for coming to me so I can help you. I’m so proud of you for not making yourself go through this alone again.”

It’s not exactly a whine that leaves Tim, but it’s not a word that is Bruce’s answer.

Jason comes forward and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “I don’t really know what’s going on, but can I like… help or something?”

Bruce smiled as Tim nods against him after a few moments, the boy in his arms turning to reach a hand out for Jason and then strangely patting the hand Jason offers up for him.

Damian, not trying to be rude but needing to understand what is going on, clears his throat and demands, “Explain what is wrong with Drake.”

Luckily Bruce had gotten better at understanding how his son communicates and looks to Tim for permission before answering, “Sometimes Tim needs to… be free of responsibility and just feel like a person for a bit. He isn’t always up for talking and just wants to be around people he trust, and me, Dick and Alfred have managed to convince him to actually come to us when he needs that.”

Bruce smiles at where at where Tim is holding Jason’s hand and swinging it around a bit before feeling over the rough calluses and thick fingers with apparent joy.

Damian frowns a little at his father’s explanation but nods regardless, “Very well, we shall set up the family room for the evening before we head out for patrol.”

Bruce smiled and pulls Damian’s head over to kiss his hairline as he hears Jason mutter, “Weird little guy, aren’t ya?”

Tim hums and pinches his finger and smiling at his older brothers yelp.

[drchucktingle]

THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION HAVE ISSUED AN APOLOGY AND A RE-INVITATION. HERE IS MY STATEMENT

hello buckaroos. the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION have issued a formal statement and apology which you can read at the attached link.

while i find the language used to discuss what was done a little unsatisfying, i would like to start by saying i appreciate anyone taking steps to prove love is real and make things right. the genuine feeling of ‘realizing you have made a mistake and hurt someone else’ is a terrible one, and i have so much empathy for this group as they reckon with their choices causing harm. i appreciate their apology.

i also think more good than bad has come from this situation. i am so thankful this happened to me (someone with a large social media presence) and not a smaller buckaroo author without the means to stand up for themselves. i think the next time someone comes to the TXLA with an accommodation need, they will hopefully be taken more seriously

lets trot down to business about specifics now. the TXLA has re-invited chuck to the original panel and even offered to take a moment at the top of the panel to talk about what happened. this is very kind of them and i will say THANK YOU. 

unfortunately i will also have to decline.

the fact that it took this much effort, social media backlash, and discussion to let me simply EXIST PHYSICALLY in a way that is authentic to myself is not a good sign. if this organization immediately questions an authors chosen presentation in this manner, i cannot imagine what my other accommodations would be met with.

sometimes i am at an event and i very quickly need extra space to breathe. sometimes i am at an event and i need special guides to help me along from place to place. these are not ‘big asks’ and every other conference has gladly provided them, but if the TXLA had this kind of initial reaction to my physical appearance, i cannot imagine them readily helping with my other needs without ‘proof’.

this is clearly not a safe place to trot for those who require additional accommodations. regardless of any apology, their ACTIONS have shown that people who appear unusual or unique are not welcome at this event on a subconscious level. i believe the TXLA have some serious inner work to do beyond this apology, and i believe this inner work will involve actions more than words.

but even more importantly i would like to make this very important point: IT DOES NOT MATTER IF MY MASK IS A DISABILITY AID OR NOT. i appreciate the way this discussion has allowed us to trot out some deep talks on autism and proved love in this way, but i think there is a much more important point at hand.

regardless of WHAT someone looks like, it is not the job of an event or conference to pick apart WHY. physical presentation can be a part of someones neurodivergence, or gender, or sexuality, but i can also just exist as a nebulous undefined part of their inner self. it can be a piece they are not ready to openly discuss yet. the guests at TXLA are authors (aka ARTISTS) and the idea that a conference dedicated to an ART is going to deny people with unique and unusual presentations for ANY reason is absurd. since when are we applying a ‘dress code’ to our artists?

without knowing it, i personally believe there is an element of the ‘good queer, bad queer’ phenomenon going on here. there is a push to say ‘LOOK we accept these marginalized groups and cultures’ but behind the scenes that means ‘we accept these marginalized groups and cultures who are quiet and speak in turn and wear the metaphorical suit and tie’. it is easy to show diversity when you only take on the voices that arent too ‘strange’.

to prove my point i ask you this: do you think orville peck would have FOR ONE SECOND been asked to perform at the texas library association event without his mask?

so with that i say ‘very sincerely, thank you, but i will have to decline the re-invitation. maybe next year’

[99woez]

don't talk about it ᰔᩚ j.sc

warnings. smut, best friend!sungchan, roommate!sungchan, arguing, it's a dumb argument but you are fighting this man, physical fighting, just shoving nothing crazy but a physical altercation starts this all, unprotected sex, hair pulling, some angst? idk if i missed something let me know! i also did not proofread this because i got out 5k words in one night which is crazy for me. anyways, enjoy!

wc. 5k

summary. your best friend embarrasses you in front of your campus crush. so, of course, you decide to fight with him in the living room and learn some interesting things about him in the process.

Sungchan had always been stupidly large, in your opinion.

He was so large that you couldn’t resist the urge to playfully test his strength, curious to see how his fit frame would react to your playful jabs or if he would sway with a gentle nudge. He would playfully push you back, never with full force, but these light-hearted scuffles became a regular part of your friendship. It was a source of joy, a shared silliness, it meant everything.

Except for the times it did.

“You’re so stupid sometimes, oh my god!” You shouted at your so-called “best friend,” shoving hard into his chest. This shove wasn’t like the ones you usually gave him. This one was harsh and mean. There was not a semblance of anything alluding to happiness on your face as you looked up at Sungchan with knitted brows and parted lips, shoving hard into his firm chest once again, this time with a shout of frustration.

If we’re being honest, you two have been drinking. It’s not like you’re shitfaced and neither is he, but the alcohol is just enough to make the world blurry at the edges and your words harsher than you typically allow them to be. His chest, solid as a boulder beneath your pushing palms, doesn't yield like it usually would during your fond roughhousing. He stands firm, his expression teetering between annoyance and worry.

"Stop it," he gruffly says, grabbing your wrists mid-shove. Just like that, the playful laughter that usually echoes between you two gets choked in the tension-filled silence. You try to yank your hands-free, but his grip is firm yet gentle. He was never rough with you, even when the fights turned serious like this. It was a rarity for things to turn nasty, but sometimes Sungchan was so oblivious you couldn’t stop yourself from lashing out at him, especially with a few mixed drinks in your system.

“Let go,” You snapped. Sungchan leans in with a tilt of his head, letting out a “Hm?” as he does so, challenging you.

“Chill out first.” That did the exact opposite of chill you out. You hated it when he took that tone of voice with you, as if you were some child that needed to be put into a timeout. 

There were many things you loved about Sungchan: His kindness, his dedication to anything he sets his mind to, his eyes, you loved a lot about Sungchan, but there were many things you couldn’t stand about him. He was oblivious to the simplest of social cues, he got loud when he was drunk, and the way he comforted people was an absolute joke. If you hadn’t known him for more than half your life and shared an apartment with him, you would’ve ditched him when you two graduated high school.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re stuck with a big, dumb roommate who loves telling the men you like that you like them. God, Wonbin was never going to talk to you again after the scene Sungchan caused trying to get him to give you his number. You still can feel the embarrassment hot in your veins, making you lurch forward and finally give his chest a shove that makes him stumble a few steps.

“I won’t chill out! I won’t! What you did was fucking rude!” You yelled, pointing a finger in his face to punctuate your words and get your point across. Sungchan scoffed, turning his head away from you, but you could see his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, making the skin push out slightly. It was a habit of his you had noticed when you two went to parties together in college. It’s what he does when he’s annoyed and holding himself back, beating someone’s ass. It’s a rare occasion for Sungchan to beat someone’s ass, but when it did happen, it was always deserved. Typically, it would be a drunk guy who wanted to buck up to the biggest guy at the party, a one-sided battle of masculinity that Sungchan always won, no matter who came up to him. You’ve only seen Sungchan throw a punch twice in your entire friendship.

Once, when you were in high school, and the last time was at a party during your junior year of college when a man put his hands on you despite you telling him to fuck off. The other times, he had simply told you about when you’d see him in the kitchen with littered bruises on his body. You think about that night more often than you’d like to admit. Sungchan didn’t hesitate to throw a punch for you, knocking the man clean out by the time he was done with him. It lit a fire in you that you’re not proud to admit. There was just something in his eyes that rubbed your brain right. You would never admit it, but were desperate to see that look again. You wanted to see him angry, to watch him lose control no matter how fucked up it sounds.

“Get your hand out of my face,” Sungchan told you firmly, looking you in the eyes to get his point across, but you weren’t deterred. You step closer to him, finger still in his face.

“No. Not until you apologize. Admit it was rude. You were rude.”

“I wasn’t fucking rude,” Sungchan argues, swatting your hand down when you don’t move it from his face. You bring it back up without a care of the consequences, resulting in a game of him swatting your hand down every time you bring it up.

You two look stupid. Thank God this is in the privacy of your living room.

“You had no right-”

“You were never going to talk to him if I didn’t! You’re a chicken-”

“I’m not a fucking chicken––Oh my god, don’t call me a bird.”

“You’re such a fucking chicken, dude. Do you remember how long it took you to even talk to Shotaro? Months. ‘Took you months to even say hi to him, and that’s because-”

“Shut up.”

“That’s because I had to step it! I was the one to get you to talk to him!” Sungchan continued with a shit-eating grin, voice picking up volume as he leaned down to get closer to you as if you couldn’t hear him clear enough, pointing to himself like he had won some kind of award. Your already flushed cheeks begin to heat up when you remember the Shotaro incident of 2022. He always brought up Shotaro, and even if it was just to pick on you playfully, it still struck a nerve. You were more shy than Sungchan ever was, always letting him start the conversations or introduce you to new people. Half of your friends are Sungchan’s friends; half of the people you’ve dated are because Sungchan knew them first. Every connection in your life could be traced back to Sungchan, which drove you insane.

“Now, you want to talk all this shit because you got embarrassed I had to step in again and help you get some dick,” Sungchan pressed, his grin turning into a smirk as he nodded at his words, feeling them in his being because they’re true. You stared at him with contempt, teeth grinding as your fists balled up tightly. “You should be thanking me. You’re so ungrateful for everything-”

You lunged at him. You swear you don’t have control of your body when you do it, you just throw your entire weight into his chest and hope for the best. Sungchan let out an “Oof!” sound when you collided with him, staggering back and hitting the ground with you on top of him. You act as if you two are playfully wrestling, but none of your movements have an ounce of playfulness in them. You straddled his hips firmly as you shoved at his hands harshly to get them away from grabbing you. You knew once he got his hands on you, it was over. He’d flip you two over, and it’d be done. You couldn’t let him win this. You couldn’t do it. You had to prove it to him.

You don’t know what it was, but you had to prove it.

You grab his hair tightly, jerking his head off the carpet to distract him, tugging hard on the brown locks. Sungchan lets out a yelp that sounds pathetic. His eyes squeezed shut as his large hands wrapped around your wrist to try and pull you off of him.

“Not fair-” He started. You shake his head, eliciting another yelp from him.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” You spat at him, shaking him again. His face contorted in pain and confusion, groaning softly as he did what you told him for once. You couldn’t believe he actually listened. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d get this far. You’re not exactly sure what to do next. So, you shake his head again, making him hiss when you tugged harder on his locks. “Can’t fucking stand you, you know that? You’re such a jerk sometimes. Just big, stupid, and taking up space.” You shake his head around with every word, watching him drop his hands and put them up in front of him in faux surrender, but he doesn’t say anything. He only whined and grunted when you pulled on his hair harder than usual.

You waited for him to spit something back at you, to call you a coward, to say you needed him, but nothing but pants left his plush lips. You furrow your brows in confusion at his silence. Sungchan was never quiet. You shake him again.

“Hello? Say something!” You shake his head again, this time back and forth. You won’t lie. It was fun to have him like this. He acted like some kind of puppet that you were the master of, pulling him around in whichever direction you wanted him to go in, and he just took it. Sungchan sighed in defeat, keeping his eyes shut tightly.

“My dick just twitched.” 

Oh.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Your hands, which had been roughly pulling at Sungchan's hair, suddenly freeze. Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze down at him, cocking a brow at him. His face is flushed a deep crimson, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you can't tell.

"I said," he starts again, much slower this time, swallowing hard, "My... my dick just twitched."

You blink at his repeated confession, not expecting him to repeat the words. There’s a tension growing between the two of you that you’ve never felt before, making your throat dry as you stare at Sungchan’s embarrassed face, watching his chest rise and fall as he pants beneath you. Flashes of what he’d look like without his shirt flash in your brain, wondering what sounds he’d make as you sink down on him, how his eyes would look, how the muscles would ripple under his––Jesus Christ, get it together, girl. You remind yourself, clearing your throat down at him.

“Like…Seriously?” Sungchan nods at your dry words, opening his eyes slowly to look up at you. A switch in your brain is flipped when you see his big brown eyes. He looks utterly pathetic like this, hair in your hand revealing his forehead, eyes pleading for something silent, and lips in a perfect soft pout. You wanted to take his picture like the actual definition of pitiful.

You chuckle at him, shaking him again and tugging his hair hard to see if it really did anything for him. He whines again, shutting his eyes as his hands lurch towards your hips, holding tightly with a sharp breath through his teeth. You smirk at his reaction, raising your brows in slight shock it was this easy to get him going. Maybe it was the alcohol, you think. You’ve seen Sungchan shove his tongue down girls’ throats just mere minutes after he met them, but this is you. You’re his best friend, his roommate, the girl who beat his ass for talking to her crush for her. You know you’re pretty, and Sungchan is just a man, but you’re still caught off guard by it all.

Your palm still cradled his scalp, thumb lazily tracing small circles at the base of his hairline. Sungchan’s hands on your hips squeeze gently, fingers digging into your flesh just a bit more than necessary and causing a shiver to wind its way up your spine.

Without thinking, you leaned forward and claimed Sungchan's lips in a rough, desperate kiss. His taste was different than any guy you've ever kissed - salty with a hint of beer and lime from the drink he had tonight. You wrapped your hand tightly around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as your other hand found its way under his shirt to feel his warm skin. You didn't let up when he moaned into your mouth, feeling your touch while he tentatively kissed you back. Your anger turned into desperation quickly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him fully now. His lips were soft and plush against yours as they parted slightly to let you in further. You moaned the moment your tongues slid together, digging your nails into his toned chest as he pressed in further, sucking softly on the slick muscle in your mouth.

Sungchan's hands moved up your body, gripping your waist and still pulling you closer. The fabric of your shirt scratching against his rough palms made you shiver with anticipation for more contact. You grind down on him out of instinct, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he groans against your mouth, wanting more from both of you. His scent filled your senses - a mix of sweat and cologne and something uniquely Sungchan that made you want more.

The sound of his rhythmic grunts filled the room, a mix of desire and surprise in every breath he took. His fingers dug into your skin through your shirt, and you moaned into his mouth once more. Your breath hitched when he bit down on your lower lip gently, making you gasp and whimper into the kiss before breaking it, desperate for air. You gasp softly when you part, watching with hazy eyes as he pants as well, lips slick with spit and typically wide eyes heavy with lust.

You tug at his shirt, nodding before he has any time to say something that will kill the mood.

“Take it off.”

And he listens like a dog, pushing himself up and pulling his white T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you flush against him. There are no thoughts in your head right now, only Sungchan, touching Sungchan, kissing Sungchan, fucking Sungchan––Holy shit, you were totally going to fuck Sungchan. That hits you harder than you thought it would. You’ve thought about it before. How could you not? He’s beautiful, kind, and built like a God. Of course, you thought about fucking Sungchan. It was nothing like this, however. Typically, you thought of him having your face pressed into the mattress, back arched, and fucking you from behind like he was getting paid. You would’ve never guessed you’d be on top, but it’s not like you can’t get into it for Sungchan. You’d do anything for Sungchan.

"Are you sure?" Sungchan whispers against the skin of your neck, his hands finding your hips again to steady you against him, his bare chest warm and firm. You're taken aback for a moment, not expecting the question. But then you realize that he’s always been considerate, even when he’s on the verge of losing control.

"Yeah," you say firmly, the word slipping out without thought and causing heat to flare in Sungchan's eyes.

Without hesitation, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head swiftly. The cool air hits your skin, making goosebumps spread across your chest and arms. Sungchan's eyes widen as he takes you in, his gaze making you feel exposed and powerful. You struggle to pull your jeans off, having to crawl off of him to kick them off in haste. You hate how desperate you look but can’t bring yourself to care. Sungchan rolls on his side when you crawl off of him, lingering towards you like a lost puppy. His eyes watch as more of your skin is revealed to him, letting out a groan when he sees the smooth skin of your thighs.

Before you have the chance to climb back on top of him, he leans in, kissing the side of your thigh with a moan. You let out a gasp in shock but watched him with parted lips, threading your hands through his hair again as he dragged his lips all over the expanse of your thigh, leaving a trail of glistening spit as he did. He grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him roughly, making you fall back onto the carpet with another gasp. You don’t argue for once; you are too invested in what Sungchan will do next, even if you care.

His lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin with deep breaths as he inched closer and closer to your core.

He licks his lips as he hooks a long finger in your underwear, pulling them to the side. A moan leaves his lips when he sees your pussy for the first time, looking down at it like he’s looking at a coveted piece of art. You watch him closely, ears turning pink as he lifts two fingers to his lips, licking the tips of them before bringing them down between your legs to rub circles into your clit. His gaze stays on your cunt, watching how the pretty pink flesh moves beneath his fingers, biting his bottom lip when he hears you let out a whine, seeing your thighs tremble at just the slightest touch. Finally, his dark gaze lifts to meet yours.

With his eyes trained on yours, he presses a long finger inside you. A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, gripping the carpet with one hand while the other dug into your side, biting your bottom lip as he pressed another finger inside. You moan this time, feeling your walls begin to stretch for him. You hear him groan quietly, making your eyes open. You’re immediately met with his gaze that never left your face. He looks like he’s in a trance, staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You can’t tell how it makes you feel, but you feel hot, like you’re boiling from the inside out. It aches, but it’s so intoxicating that you want more of it.

You whimper at how his fingers slickly slide out, then back in, watching him get lost in the sight of your reactions. You’re so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you got so quickly. You swallow thickly as your chest rises and falls with each pant. His eyes stay on your face as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you shiver with a choked-out moan. His free hand cups your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, forcing your lips apart to look deeply into your eyes as he watches you crumble under him.

Feeling emboldened, Sungchan takes his fingers out of you slowly, letting out a long moan when they leave you empty. He lays a line of sweet pecks against your inner thighs, leaving tiny bites and nips on the soft flesh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. With a breathy "Fuck," he tugs them down enough to reveal his hard cock pressing against the fabric. You gulp as it springs from its confines, averting your eyes momentarily before snapping them back up to challenge his gaze. His thick length twitches with anticipation before he guides it towards you, slick with pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your heart stops for a beat before racing wildly in your chest again.

"Wrap your legs around me," Sungchan orders softly, not breaking eye contact even when you hesitate for a second before obeying. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock, pushing inside without a moment’s hesitation. He slides in so easily, groaning at how smooth the glide inside you is. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, making you moan as well. The way his cock splits your walls apart for him is delicious, to say the least, as a euphoria fills your veins as your walls spasm around him with another moan, this one airier than the one before.

“Fuck,” Sungchan curses, fingers digging into the carpet next to your head as he looks down at where your bodies were connected before back at your face. You two lock eyes again, making your heart hammer in your chest harder than before. Still, you meet his gaze with a quiet whimper, hands wrapping around his strong biceps as you bat your lashes at him.

“Feels good, Sungie?” You ask in a too-sweet voice. You rarely whip out for him unless you ask for a favor, like getting something off the top shelf or making him finish your short answer response questions because you don’t want to. Sungchan would do anything for you, and you’d do anything for Sungchan. He takes a deep breath at your tone, lips curling into a smirk before he bites his bottom lip, nodding.

Then, his hips roll into yours.

Sungchan's thick cock feels even better than you could have ever imagined, stretching you wide and fulfilling you completely. His hips roll into yours slowly, making you moan and whine beneath him with each gentle thrust. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, his smirk turning into a grimace as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.

Your walls clamp down on him at the contact, purposely trying to get more friction between the two of you. Sungchan groans against your lips, slipping his hands under your back and lifting you up onto his lap effortlessly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his hard chest pressed against yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as he starts to fuck you properly now, eyes closing at the sensation that washes over you. You swear you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you convince yourself you’re just dreaming it.

You feel every inch of him inside of you, making your walls tighten around him with every snap of his hips into yours. A tiny sob leaves your lips when he hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, jaw-dropping and eyes rolling back at how your body moves like a rag doll and at how sharply his hips snap up into you. He groans into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before sucking softly to soothe it with his tongue. You can't help but shudder in his lap; this feels so good that it hurts. His hands hold you in place, one on your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as he takes rough control of the kiss again, teeth scraping against soft skin with every thrust. He pants against your lips, moaning your name softly and how good you make him feel. It's all too much for you; all too real with Sungchan, yet so not real. You’re fucking your roommate on your living room floor––You’re fucking your best friend on your living room floor.

Your hands find their way into his hair again, holding onto him tightly as he continues to fuck into you like your his, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. You mewl at the feeling, arching your back into his chest as he hits that sweet spot inside you once more. You could feel the warmth spreading through your veins, making you dizzy with need. The room spins around you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper into your already aching pussy. His moans mix with yours, their tongues meeting in a messy kiss that speaks volumes about how much you both want this.

Your legs quiver as he takes control of the situation, fingers digging into your skin softly before trailing up to caress your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a strangled cry when he pinches at one of your nipples roughly, making you moan into his mouth even more, looking down to watch him work with a breath through your teeth. Your hands' card through the hair on the back of his head, eyes shutting to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins with every drag of Sungchan’s cock against your walls.

"Sun-Sungchan," you whimper. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears. Your body is sweaty and flushed, a beautiful sight for him to feast his eyes upon. He growls lowly when he finally meets your gaze again, heat pooling in your lower belly at the raw desire he displays.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. ‘Should’ve fucked you soon, hm?” Sungchan groans, his voice creased with effort as he continues to pound into you. You can’t help but respond with a needy whimper, skin burning under his touch as you nod your head dumbly. You feel him everywhere, and it's overwhelming - the way he’s stretched you wide open, the way he feels pushing deep inside of you, the way his hands are holding you in place as if afraid that you'll slip away from underneath him.

Your heart beats furiously against your chest, matching rhythm with the throbbing ache between your legs. You're close, too close, but not quite there yet. Sungchan seems to sense your growing desperation, the flash of triumph in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what he's doing to you. He reaches down and begins rubbing slow circles on your clit again, thumb pressing against the sensitive nub just enough to make you cry out in pleasure.

“You gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your throat, teeth dipping into your soft flesh, causing a sharp gasp from your lips. You nod frantically in response, words failing you as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins. He laughs softly - a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.

The way you melt against him is intoxicating. He grunts, unable to think straight as he feels his own orgasm building up. His hips move even faster, his cock sliding in and out of your welcoming heat with each thrust. He groans against your skin, panting heavily as he fucks you like it’s his last dying will, wet sounds filling the room that mixes with your pants and moans. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sounds you’re making, cheeks growing more read because of it. Sex is so embarrassing sometimes.

He pulls away from your neck just a little to look into your eyes, panting heavily as they roll back in pleasure. Sungchan's lips curl into a smirk at seeing how lost you get. Your walls tighten around his cock once again as you cum around him, making Sungchan's eyes roll back into his head and tilt his head back with a melodic groan that has you moaning as well. You feel him tremble beneath you as he finally cums inside of you, making you smirk softly as your hands run up and down his back.

You throw your head back and cry out his name, orgasm hitting you hard and fast like a freight train. He watches as you finally hit your peak, jaw-dropping at how gorgeous you look when you feel good. Your walls clamp down around him, and your muscles spasm in ecstasy; even through the haze of pleasure, you feel every drop of his cum spilling into you, the heat of it searing into your core. Your body convulses and shivers under the onslaught of pleasure, your voice breaking on Sungchan's name. 

Sungchan stays still for a moment longer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. His chest heaves against yours, ragged gasps filling the space between your sated bodies. He blinks slowly, his gaze holding yours captive as he pants out your name. You take his face into his hands with a deep breath, leaning in and kissing his lips without a second though. He moans into the kiss, holding your wrists gently as he does so.

You both stay like that for a while. Bodies joined together in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your gasping breaths and the rapid beat of your heart pounding in sync. Cautiously, Sungchan pulls out of you gently, making your pussy squeeze around nothing instinctively at the loss, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

He rolls off to one side, pulling you with him so that you're tucked against his side. His arm wraps around you and keeps you close to him, fingers dancing along your sweaty skin lightly. Neither of you speak for long moments, too wrapped up in trying to regain control of your breathing and coming down from your highs even to fathom thinking of words right now.

Eventually, though, Sungchan breaks the silence with a soft whisper, "You okay?"

Your lips twitch into a tired smile against his chest, pressing a small kiss there before nodding. "Yeah," you huff out after a moment, "That was…"

"Crazy," he finishes for you, making you shut your eyes with a laugh, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah…That was crazy,” You whisper, moving your head to rest on his chest to soak up more of his warmth. Your cheek squishes against his chest as you lay there, looking down at his spent cock resting against his thigh. It hits you that you’re both naked and just had sex on your living room floor. This calls for a conversation at the least but you can’t drag yourself to start it, completely spent from what just occurred.

So, instead, you close your eyes.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

[acid-ixx]

I have a question, well 2 questions to be exact that’s been rattling around in my head since I started reading platonic yandere batfam fics, why would reader stay in Gotham? I’d be sneakily stealing as much money as I could without getting caught as soon as I reach a “fuck these guys” mentality. Like, asking to have some money for groceries or something and just pocketing it so that I could get a bus ticket and leave the city. Would you do it if you were reader? It just makes sense to me “this place sucks, these people suck, I’ve gotten enough to leave”, this is with me assuming that reader has the means of course, if the reader doesn’t then okay, yeah that makes sense

And my second question, do you ever feel resentful towards Alfred when you read batfam photonic yandere content? I do sometimes, especially when the reader is neglected. I know this might sound odd but when I read these fics I recognize that Alfred could do more, out of everyone in the manner, I think Alfred’s word carries the most weight, especially with Bruce due to him raising Bruce. I also notice in some batfam fics that the reader doesn’t get mad at him due to him giving them attention, but idk it feels kinda like a slap to the face, knowing that I don’t have the power but he does and yet not exercising it until I’ve burned every last tie to that family.

I know my thoughts are a more “well you’re on the outside looking in” type takes, but idk, it hurts my heart knowing that if reader stays in that city, it will be far more easier for the batfam to find them, where if they were outside the city, they’d have a fighting chance to make a new life for themselves

On a side note, I think we are underutilizing the angst potential of reader legally changing their name and the batfam not knowing until months or even years later when reader leaves. Like Bruce and the fam would just have to sit and realize that reader hates/dislikes/doesn’t care about them enough to legally change their name from Wayne to whatever reader chooses. Jason was Batman’s greatest failure, but Reader would be Bruce’s greatest failure, and what a delightful public failure it would be if the tabloids were to somehow find out that one of Bruce Wayne’s biological children changed their legal name

I’m loving your batfam content btw, like it makes me want to create one of those “screw therapy, I need to fist fight my dad” tiktoks and tag Bruce Wayne, that’s what I can phenomenal writing!! And sorry for making this so long! Hope you have a great existence!

slight spoilers for future chapters.

this is one of my favorite asks... anon, you are so brilliant because your two questions tie into the reader's character so well and the flaws that they (you) conjured from years of neglect, so i hope my answers would suffice (i am answering based on the perspective of the reader from my series: again & again with a bit of my own perspective). tysm for sending this in, i actually really enjoy long asks and appreciate it when people take the time to send me these things!

why would the reader stay in gotham?

chapter one wasn't all the detailed about why they stayed in gotham. firstly, their self-worth had them reason that in no way, shape, or form would their family that basically estranged them would come running to them, especially not when the only time the reader could even stumble across them is by some miracle of coincidence. this also ties into their lack of knowledge about their family. sure, they know that babs is the oracle but do they know just how much access she has across gotham? not really. they know tim, like bruce, has a tendency to collect information about other people, but they don't know that they have contingency plans to be creeped out enough to get away from gotham and from their reach.

"it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!"

and the third point is, despite bruce being a billionaire of some sort, it was stated that the reader was too well-behaved and quiet. how does this make sense? as you've stated, they wouldn't simply have the means to get out. seeing as they were sheltered by alfred and never really explored the concept of traveling far away, they never asked for money; the only advantage of being a wayne is having quite a lot of things served on a silver platter.

they have this sort of toxic bond for staying with the people who have hurt them and it materialized to them physically staying despite knowing it would only cause more pain than anything else, and they don't know that. plus, they'd rather not have the wayne name associated with them and getting money from cheques or credit cards would be too risky for the reader's safety.

they've only realized just how shitty their family is after more than 10-13 years of staying in the manor, and saving up to move to an entirely different place would be difficult, alongside college and the jobs they have to take. so the next best thing they could do is rely on any means of advantage they could get whilst also moving on to the path of self-discovery and recovery.

but that doesn't mean they're staying in gotham forever, definitely not. the moment the reader realizes that dick gained some sort of interest towards them, they're booking it out of gotham. preferably to metropolis or central city or even somewhere far, far away— they're naive, but not stupid. sudden interest towards them means danger rather than anything else. and they're aware that alfred is capable enough to pull strings, so that's why spoiler alert: they have a secret stash of money hidden somewhere and like any children of bruce, they inherited the capability to be smart enough to already back up their contacts and everything on their phone, buy a burner phone and even change their entire identity in one quick go right after they move into an entirely different city or country.

gotham is merely their practice course.

do you ever feel resentment towards alfred?

quite frankly, yes. the reader in the fic feels resentment towards everyone for a reason actually, but alfred's part was stated vaguely as to not spoil a future chapter that focuses on his perspective. they know that he has the more power inside the manor more than bruce has. everyone, and i mean everyone respects alfred, and it doesn't take a genius to know that if you mess with him, you're messing with an entire family of crime fighters.

it's not obvious, but the reader's narrative in chapter one is them trying so hard to delude themself into thinking things can be better until it's too late. so in a sense, there's false narrative coming into play.

"alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least."

at some point in time, alfred had also neglected the reader emotionally with the same reasoning as the others; he was busy with their father. and this all could've been avoided if alfred had tried to confront the entire family about it. i'm not delving deeper into this to really avoid spoilers other than pointing out some details in the first chapter.

just know that alfred relishes in your newfound favoritism towards him, and that he may or may not have pulled some strings himself from helping you become closer to the family.

the part about reading changing their name from (name) wayne to (name) (last name) is what made me so drawn to this ask. you have pretty much predicted one of the chapters that explored (name) wayne to the public eye. they're not so much of an internet celebrity because of their rare appearances in public, but that's what causes immense curiosity about their identity to uprise in gotham, and their fame was one of the means to get to you.

there was one news article published that was the reason that made bruce distant towards you.

but let's focus on what yan! bruce would've felt once he turns a full 360.

because the first thing he would do once he has you in his grasp is to change your last name back to his. you are not the child of a (last name), you are a wayne first and foremost, bruce's third child and his greatest mistake, quite literally. you were a product of a one-night-stand, and because he was drowning in despair from jason's death, he had failed to notice you. all his years of neglect, and he doesn't even know a single thing about you, simply because he refused to acknowledge your presence.

and you rightfully hated him, he should've accepted that. but your diary entries and the way you innocently thought of him destroyed any sliver of hope for a peaceful reconciliation. he hates how you were experiencing the same type of despair as him when it comes to battling your own monsters— you truly are a wayne at heart. he couldn't afford to let you get away any further. just like dick, he needs to fix it now or further sever the already broken ties you have with him.

it's not batman now, but rather bruce. bruce wayne had failed to save another one of his children, not as a vigilante, but as a father.

knowing bruce, he's quick to take into action and search for you.

holy shit, this is a really long post but i hope it does answer the questions ! im so grateful that you like my writing enough to write a really long ask, and i hope to see your messages more once the new chapters are published <3