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kinardsevan · 2 days ago

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i wrote a whole ass psychology breakdown (for the first time in FOREVER) about the break-up. enjoy (if you so choose):

so I've been reading a lot in relation to Tommy's speech during the break-up (and have actually gotten through the scene several times now, mostly as a creative reference for these fix-it fics. I think one of the first things that I've seen completely tossed aside (that bothers the shit out of me as someone with over a decade of therapy treatment and a psychology degree) is whatever trauma Tommy carries.

We know that there are issues with his dad. We know Lou's lore behind him is that he spent a lot of his childhood alone. We don't know anything in relation to his mom, but she may or may not be the cause of more trauma. We know that his way of dealing with abuse of authority is to shut down and follow the leader, which is likely a mix of his military time and growing up in his father's household (and when I say this, I mean from what we saw of him under Gerrard's command). This is a person who has put years into getting himself into some version of okay after all that he's endured, and we know he still generally does it on his own.

To that end, here, have my breakdown of the break up (roughly right about the time Buck says "I want you to move in with me"). (with pictures!)

Prior to the offer, we watch Tommy process through Evan's explanation about his relationship with Abby, things being transformative for him, etc. We have to bare in mind that this is where we also start to get what I've dubbed "starry-eyed Buck". He's so in the throes of what he's saying that I don't think he's really considering the connotation of his words. At the same time, Tommy doesn't know what lore Evan is about to drop him about this prior relationship. Remember that he now has to contend with the fact that they both have strong opinions on their relations toward Abby, and Tommy can't know if their feelings toward her as a person will be the same. I think Lou played this beautifully, appearing anxious and apprehensive as Tommy listened to Evan explain that Abby was transformative for him. Then he shifts into how Tommy has been transformative for him (which, he has, and we as the audience know this, but we understand it from a bigger POV than what Evan is saying with his words.)

There have been posts about Evan putting Tommy up on a pedestal throughout this speech (and really, possibly even sooner, but this is where we really get it expressed). Tommy tries to rectify this to a degree by countering "I wasn't always that way".

To that end, we then get Evan telling him "I know, and it just makes me admire you more." Tommy gives a bashful smile, clearly heartened by the statement, and even opening his mouth as though he's going to respond to it in some form. It would be interesting to know what was on Lou's mind of what (if anything) he thought would've been said there. Are there lines that were removed in this scene? Was 'I love you' actually going to come up? We can't really know. However, there's this part of me that thinks that Tommy thought that they were having a discussion on the depth of their relationship which would've possibly brought those 7 letters to the equation. Either way, this entire bit of facial acting is SO important, because it speaks volumes about how Tommy feels about how Evan feels about him.

From there we get the "I want you to move in with me, and this, THIS, THIS is such an important point for this ENTIRE scene. It's two seconds, but it holds SO much for the narrative. This man, who seems to be on the verge of ...something, clearly (who knows if I Love You was on his mind, or if it was just the fact that Evan was expressing how much he cares about him.) The reason this is all so important is THIS REACTION:

Now again, we don't know Tommy's trauma, but the joy literally drops out of his expression and shifts to panic. Now, speaking solely from the standpoint that these two haven't even said "I love you" yet, his boyfriend steamrolled over him from a possible declaration of love straight to moving in together without discussing semantics. Further, it's not even "I want to live together", it's "move in with me". We don't know much about Tommy's house (because these shitheads haven't built him a set yet), but we know that he has a HOUSE. With a GARAGE. Buck lives in a LOFT. Regardless of how much of an asshole this makes me sound like, it's crawling with red flags. It comes across as "fit more into my life" instead of "lets do this thing together". Further, if that's not bad enough, mention of getting engaged and married is thrown at Tommy as well, which holds two major bits of information: One, these are on Evan's mind. We've NEVER heard him talk about getting engaged or married to anyone. This speaks to the importance of their relationship to him, but the lack of I Love You also speaks on his own trauma. If we truly are getting the rom-com trope, at some point there's likely to be a conversation about why he lept over it (*cough* Taylor, his parents *cough cough*). Meanwhile, as he's continued in his starry-eyed speech, this is what Tommy is giving:

Now for those who don't know how to spot it, this my friends is a PANIC RESPONSE. The shift forward, the move to get up, the literal deep breath. He's having a panic attack. Now, obviously we don't know what brought this on, but god-willing, we WILL get the answers.

Now, to his own point, Tommy doesn't just straight up pop Evan's pink bubble. He does express that it's a sweet sentiment, but that it's a bad idea. To which point we get:

"Evan, that is so sweet. But I can't move in with you." "And why not?" Because. I know how this ends." "Uh, what-what's that supposed to mean?"

At which point, we clearly get the qualities about Evan that Tommy likes. "Incredible guy. Big-hearted. Hot as hell. Impulsive." I don't feel that the expression here matters as much as his tone of voice, because we can see on his face that he's expressing these qualities from a good place. The next point of reference isn't until Tommy's next line, when he says that Evan's reaction is out of things being "new and exciting".

To that end, the way Evan is talking to him makes this statement valid. He's not talking to Tommy like they've been together for six months and have built a relationship that should be moving in this direction. (For the tenth time I will repeat, he couldn't even dignify whether he was in love with Tommy when Josh asked).

Furthermore, I think when you consider this part of the scene, you also have to consider the strain in Tommy's voice. Something about those concepts (living together, getting engaged, married) is terrifying. It definitely gives the impression that Tommy has been faced with some version of this before and he got burned. Why is this important? Because of this:

"I'm saying no matter how bad I want it to be, I'm not your last." Those 9 words are important on their own, but when you couple them with the expression on Tommy's face and what we've just seen him go through, there's a clear point to the fact that he's been through this before. I also think that there can't be enough importance placed on the way he intonates "how bad". This is not a man saying no because he doesn't want to. He's backpedaling because he's sure that he's going to get burned. We get this point further driven home with this exchange:

"I'm your first." "But hey, they can be the same thing." "But, they usually aren't."

See this doesn't read to me as someone who's scared because he knows Evan has never been with another man. They're both fully grown adults who have had multiple relationships. What this speaks to me (now) as, is someone who has let someone convince him before that he would be their forever, that they were all in, and then broke him. When you include his childhood trauma and whatever abandonment issues it's left him with in correlation with all of this, yes, it's still an extremely biphobic set of lines. But in the context of what he's expressing and why, it's not about telling Evan he needs more experience, it's about telling him that he doesn't believe that he'll want to stay settled down with him six months, a year, etc., down the road. And THAT my friends, is abandonment issues 101. "Everyone else has left, so it doesn't matter that I'm in love with you, because you will leave too, and I need to protect myself from that."

Following that, we get this: "if I were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it, but you'd end up breaking my heart."

This line is SO important, right next to Evan's exchange with Josh about his relationship with Tommy. Why? Because even though neither of them have said it, it spells out that these two are in fact in love with each other, even if they haven't said it.

"I don't think I could deal with that." Tommy is fucking GONE on him. He's expressing that if he gave himself fully over to what Evan's referring to, losing him would break him. Again, we don't have the full picture on his trauma, but we know there's a mountain there. It's also worth noting again, that the intonation he uses in these statements clearly come across as someone trying to reign in their emotions and keep it together. That says to me that we're dangeously close to touching his trauma.

I don't feel like I have to include the final few bits of the scene in gifs because they're all over the site now, but the next line gives over the fact that he hasn't really been open about his trauma to Evan, given that his immediate response to expressing all of this is "I should go". This kind of reaction is generally brought on as not being accepted for having certain feelings. Now, obviously Evan is caught off guard by the entire interaction, the same way Tommy was (but for different reasons), so we have to take all of that into account when we think about the fact that instead of countering Tommy's logic, he asks instead if Tommy is breaking up with him.

Body language is also so important here for Tommy. His shoulders are hunched in, we see him wipe his face (meaning there are likely tears), and when he turns around, he's so caught up in whatever wave has taken him over that it takes Evan asking him for Tommy to state "yeah, I guess I did" about breaking up. Further, there's the fact that he states that he didn't see the break-up coming, which goes back to my point at the top of this post, that he clearly thought the conversation was going one direction, and instead it goes the other. From this point, we have Evan reeling, because he wants to create more of a life with Tommy, while Tommy is shutting down because of whatever is holding him back.

Finally, as I've referenced before, we get this line:

"Should've known that parking spot was too good to be true."

That line makes zero sense out of context, but in consideration of someone trying to lighten the weight they're carrying (which you can literally see by the way he has his hand on his neck, which you generally only see people do as a stress response). You can also double entendre this statement that getting to be with Evan was too good to be true. We get that little inhale with the smile, and I swear to God the only time I've seen that kind of reaction is right before someone cracks.

And then in closing, we get the "I'll see you 'round, Buck," our closing gut punch. Evan is still reeling, clearly. His face is very "what the hell just happened". Tommy is clearly not okay. This entire scene has opened an entire can of worms on them without a whole lot of answers.

Now, I've owned the fact that basically from the end of 806, I felt like this had to be a swerve, and that there has to be more to the story. I've also pretty much owned the fact that if the writers did actually just do this for kicks and don't have a resolution for it, I may not keep watching. However, in the context of the fact that, for the moment, I'm choosing to put hope in some kind of resolution, these lines make so much more sense. It is worth noting though, most people in the fandom, let alone the general audience, aren't going to psychologically break this shit down line-by-line. They're not going to lean into whatever trauma Tommy has that we don't know about yet. Its why the internet has been a mess since Thursday night. But it's also why I talk about how, when this situation gets resolved (because right now I refuse to say if), Buck has to give up the loft and give more of himself. Tommy, by the nature of the show, has fully immersed himself in Evan's life, but we haven't seen or heard mention of Evan doing so at all in Tommy's life. That doesn't mean he hasn't, but we haven't gotten any version of that. So when I say Evan needs to give things up... it's about matching what he's asking Tommy to give up. Because at the end of the day, when this circles back around, he's effectively going to be asking Tommy to trust that he won't break his heart like others have, and when you have a lifetime of abandonment issues and have learned to cope by being hyper-independent and alone, moving in the opposite direction is more terrifying than anything else. ESPECIALLY when you love that person, which we saw Tommy spell out. Evan has the ability to break him (and probably already is via this cut-off-at-the-quick break up.)

So, I'm really gonna need these shit heads to figure out that they'll be more miserable apart than they'd ever be together.

That's all. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#mel's musings #bucktommy #mel's psychological breakdowns #psychoanalysis #break up breakdown #tevan #kinley #firepilot #firebeast

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boofeine · 2 days ago

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Just read your ‘what makes svt vocal in bed’ and I started giggling and kicking my feet at Cheol’s. Would love to see you go into further detail because I just KNOW that man loves seeing the claw marks you leave on his back and arms 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS: mdni, (small) pain kink, marking, scratching, pet name, swearing, mentions of cumming inside, rough sex, raw sex

As a leo, this man just loves the little reminders you let on his skin. Seungcheol definitely wakes up the next morning, smiling and shaking his head to himself, staring at his naked reflection on the bathroom mirror, with the red marks of your scratches all over his back and arms.

The type to see your new nails done first thing. His light touch coming to your hands, so he can bring it close to his face and take a good look at the sharp and perfectly shaped nails. "Beautiful" He praises, caressing your fingers with his thumb, a smirk forming on his lips as he looks up to your face instead "They will make such beautiful marks" He says, letting a kiss to your hand before letting it go from his grip.

Seungcheol loves to go restless on you. His thrusts deep and fast as you squirm under him. He goes down to reach even further inside, your leg up on his arm as his breath fans on the nap of your neck with his animalistic pace while you moan on his ear. Your nails digging up on his back, going all the way down to his hips. The burning feeling of the scratch on his skin making him groan, his thrusts haulting with how much that affects him. "Fuck, I love when you do this... Shit! It feels so fucking good" he confesses.

He loves to edge you, just so he can see your desesparate state that includes tugging his arms and pulling his neck harshly, like you just need to find ground on something. Your pussy aching to cum, clenching around him so much with the needy moans of his name. His eyes rolling back when your legs come around his waist, caging him in between your legs, your nails drowning on his shoulders "cheol, please, i need to cum" you beg and how can he say no? A grunt leaving his lips and the same high coming to him, his balls tightening and breath pacing.

Seungcheol always want you under him, because he can't help but be addicted to the feeling of you cumming and gripping his biceps with so much force that has him going insane. But he also likes when he has you from behind, your head aligned with his shoulders as he fucks you. His dick gets so impossibly hard by the sight of your ass bouncing with his bucks. The way your knuckles turn white from handing tightly his thighs under you. Cry out moans filling the room as your back arch and the same familiar knot form on your stomach "Fuck! Cheol... so- goooo -o... -d... aaaah!" you stutter in between moans and his thrusts that makes your body shake. His hoarsy voice taking over "cum, pretty. let it go for me" he hums. Your nails pressing his skin like it was just sheets. The grip pushing the sides of his ass to keep fucking you as you feel your high approaching. "Shiiiiit" He swears under his breath. Your body stopping just to let it all out seconds after as you cum and make a mess on your inner thighs, his cock and balls. His eyes shutting and head lowering with a low moan as his load empty inside your cunt.

The rare times you get the chance to have him under you, he can also enjoy the view. The way your boobs bounce while you roll your hips on him. The way you arch your back and dig your nails to his abs when he starts to meet up your thrusts. He's so obsessed with the sight of the line of your neck and clavicle when you moan out with your head thrown back. You're so desesparate picking up the pace, not even realizing how you're going down to just beneath his core with your sharp claws, low groans coming out from him as you're too preoccupied on chasing your own high over his cock to even mind. He gets himself running laps underneath you. You know He's enjoying it, too.

#boofeine inbox #boofeine inbox: scoups #was wannabelife #seventeen #fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt headcanons #svt scenarios #svt smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups #scoups smut #scoups scenarios

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bonsiii-art · 1 day ago

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*point out my water gun at you* this's a robbery ¯¯̿̿¯̿̿'̿̿̿̿̿̿̿'̿̿'̿̿̿̿̿'̿̿̿)͇̿̿)̿̿̿̿'̿̿̿̿̿̿\̵͇̿̿\=(⌐▀͡ʖ▀)=o/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿¯̿̿¯̿̿

I dmand all your cute Longan HCs or else.../j

Took a while to answer this one bc I wanted to illustrate some of my ideas! I thank you for asking me uwu

Has a natural, booming voice. Doesn't need to try at all to make themselves heard over a raging storm. Also, rarely blinks as part of their intimidation towards others. Towards someone they care about, Longan will naturally blink more and even make an effort to speak more softly to them.

Big thing in my artworks of them is that they're super tall compared to regular cookies. This, of course, gives them a larger stride when walking. They won't slow down, even for their precious weak one. Though, they'll look over their shoulder now and then to watch them struggle to keep up; it's amusing to them :P

DEF NOT THE PERFECT PARTNER. Even if they gain a companion, they'll still be fixated on their goals. If their weak one's interests lie in anything cookiekind-related, Longan will be completely tuned out of it. EVENTUALLY, they'll try to see what all the fuss is about. Just to learn and form their own opinions about it.

Something angsty- if their weak one is a normal cookie and not a dragon, their mortality will become a constant thought in Longan's mind. They'll get more and more attached over time but in turn, put up a stronger aloof front. They have the power to bring back the era of dragons, but they can't bring back a cookie once they're gone... ...unless they can preserve them in some way. cutely petrifies their beloved into stone.-

You know the two NPCs in one of the stages of the Longan Palace Map, Longan Shaman and Longan Lancer? I imagine they would be bit more friendlier towards their master's new partner. :> At least one of the two would be assigned to them to watch over them when Longan's busy. Which means plenty of time to get acquainted!

After looking at their sprites a lot when drawing, I believe that Longan is able to move the spines on their back freely, as those are the most flexible of their horn structure. TBH, I think Longan is almost freakishly flexible, overall. In addition to stretching in any position with ease like a cat, they can also turn their head almost 180 degrees, just for the added creepy effect.

More on the cat thing actually, Longan absolutely does the eye thing where their pupils get wide when they see something they like. Also, purring- *gets shoved off stage*-

Has a tail similar-looking to their dragon form's. They just like having it hidden under their robes, since it tends to show more of their emotional state than they like.

I've been drawing the ears on charas more often and I think that compared to the rest of the dragons, Longan's would be pointy but slightly on the droopy side.

#cookie run #longan dragon cookie #cookie run x reader #artistic nudity #my art

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weaselle · 3 days ago

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Early human match ups with animals

Wolves: have a very similar social structure and lifestyle as early humans, benefit greatly from group dynamics -- teaming up with humans allows them greater access to food at less risk, safer sleeping, higher pup survival rate, better protection from the environment. One wolf eats about as much food as one person, so it's a normal member to add to the group in terms of resources.

Cats: have some amount of social overlap (cat sisters often help raise each other's kittens, and grouping approaches common in some cat species, notably in lions, but also for example in cheetahs, where brother cheetahs often stay together for life in groups of up to 4). Humans are HUGE prey attractors for them, drawing in rodents in large numbers - also meaning people don't have to give up their own food to feed them. Human housing is safer from the elements, keeps competitors and dangers like snakes and larger cat species away. Associating with humans gains special grooming and healing unavailable to wild species, such as draining and cleaning abscesses caused by infected bug bites or, very importantly, feeding and caring through a major illness or injury. A wild cat with a broken leg will often die, a human's cat with a broken leg will live to hunt again.

Goats (which we actually turned into Sheep): Herd structure similar enough to human social structure as to be compatible. Guaranteed food during winter and other times of scarcity -- and none of it is human food. Higher offspring survival rate, robust protection from predators and the elements. Horses : same. Cows: same. Deer/caribou: same but a little less so, actually surprisingly good at both fight and flight (cows, specialize in fight, horses specialize in flight) often travel more distance for resources so have better access during lean times; can match but less beneficial to the deer.

Other animals be like

Big cats like Tigers: Why the fuck are there so many of you in one place. This cold doesn't bother me at all because i'm so big my core stays warm. Just what do you think i need protection from? I'm super capable of feeding myself, and even if food is scarce? you have to sacrifice enough food to feed several people to keep me fed, which is a bummer for your group if food is scarce, and i cannot eat your stored food like dried fruits and grains. Your lifestyle is incompatible with mine, i hate everything about being forced to live with you and also it doesn't benefit me at all. Lions: yeah, plus I already have all the group dynamic benefits you could offer me, you're actually the weakest link in my group, be careful or we might outnumber you, being near us all the time greatly increases the number of times murderous male lions attack this group

Bears: Listen. Even if i get injured i'll just eat something that doesn't run from me until i heal (some brown bear populations spend a couple months a year mainly eating moth colonies, they will eat anything, including moss and fungus). This makes me a direct competitor for ALL you food, btw. Speaking of which it takes like 15 people's worth of food to keep me fed. If i get angry someone is definitely going to die. Protection? from what? The most dangerous thing to a bear is another bear, so also you can't really have more than a couple of me in any group, and staying near me greatly increases the chance of some territorial wild bear rolling up to camp with murder on their mind. What do you meeeean keep wandering around actively instead of sleeping in one spot for months at a time? My life is literally worse with you than without you, and your life is probably worse with me around too.

Weasels: Fuck off you can't keep up with me i eat half my body weight in food every day and bite everything near me. Try to contain me and see what happens i'm made out of teeth and murder and cleverness, and destruction of property and theft are my favorite games and i'm basically always bored unless i'm hunting or fighting or fucking with something. What do you meeeean hold still for 30 seconds now i'm mad and you'll basically have to kill me to stop me from going after whatever i want forever. I will absolutely try to murder every other animal you associate with no matter what size it is, and i will totally also eat all of your other food too because i love fruits and fungus and anything else you like to eat probably - you can't keep me out of your food stores and what i don't eat in the moment i'll steal and hide in my own stash for later. Excuse me now i have to sleep for 18 hours i do not understand why you want to keep doing things for so much of the day.

Don't ask me about ferrets they must have been bought with rodent hunting opportunities like the cats, total fluke if you ask me (ferrets are, in fact, domesticated, after more than two thousand years of human intervention. And it's kind of weird that it happened but i think they were the exact right size to make it work)

I think it's a common misconception that domesticating animals is somewhat like enslaving them. It really is more of a symbiotic relationship. No wild animal would have willingly put up with early humans if they didn't get something out of it. Wolves wouldn't have stayed with us and become dogs if they weren't getting food and safety out of it. Many large herbivores that are now domesticated could and would have easily trampled their early human captors or broken their enclosures open if they didn't have a reason to stay. Sometimes individual animals still do if we don't give them what they need.

The animals that have stayed with us for thousands of years have evolved to cooperate with us better. Dogs have additional facial muscles around their eyes that wolves lack in order to mimic human facial expressions. Sheep grow their wool perpetually while their wild counterparts don't because a bigger fleece means they're more likely to be allowed to breed and be kept around. Domestic dairy cows produce much more milk than wild bovine species and domestic hens lay more eggs. Do you know how energy costly producing eggs or milk is for an animal? It's pretty intense! They wouldn't be able to do that if we hadn't given them the food and safety from predators and the elements to.

And we really need to show these animals respect and gratitude for what they give us by taking excellent care of them. They gave up a lot to be with us, often including the means to take care of themselves in the wild. That's a huge reason why I'm not against using animal products, but I hate factory farming. They are still living, breathing creatures with needs and feelings. They deserve a comfortable life and, when the time comes, a humane death.

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koolades-world · 3 days ago

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have three really great ideas but this one was brainrotting me more so you get this one first. may or may not be inspired by myself and the amount of birthmarks i have personally (i do actually have all the birthmarks listed!) if you guys want a part two for solomon's birthmarks and mc doting on him, let me know. i could make that happen!

i can't explain it but i kept thinking of that one solomon and his wives post written by my beloved mutal alba while writing this. not sure why, but i'm giving credit where it is due. please go check her out!!!

this can read a little suggestive so read with caution! however, i think it's very very cute!! <3

birthmarks

"Hey, Mc." Solomon looked up from the book he was reading. You were seated not too far from him, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by papers you were organizing.

"What's up?" You didn't look up from what you were doing.

"Have you ever heard of any old wives tales behind birthmarks?" He asked.

"Well, that was out of the blue." When you paused, he continued to look at you expectantly. "Yes, I've heard a couple. The first one I thought of were they were how you died in a past life." You let out a snort of laughter at the expression that crossed the sorcerer's face.

"That's not the one I was thinking of." He shook his head.

"Then, you must've been thinking of the one where they're where you've been kissed in a past life. If the death one was the case, I would've had some brutal deaths." You recalled the simple, yet romantic myth where every birthmark was a kiss left by a lover of your past. You much preferred that outlook, even if it wasn't real.

"That's the one. Now, I'm curious..." He trialed off, giving you his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

"You could've just asked in a normal way. You're my partner. Asmo must be rubbing off on you." You got up, and joined him on the sofa.

"No, Asmo would've just asked you to get naked." The two of you giggled together at the idea. In his defense, he was right.

"Do you have any birthmarks?" You wondered how he'd thought to ask something like that in the first place.

"Maybe you'll get to see later, if you're lucky." Solomon winked at you.

"Solomon!" You smacked his arm, to which he pulled you into a hug back.

"Maybe you can help me find each and every one..." He voiced died as the words left his mouth. He ran a thumb over the birthmark on your cheek, his touch gentle. You could tell he'd already moved on from that idea despite how enthralled he'd seemed with it a second ago. "This a cute spot to have one."

You had many birthmarks, but the one on your cheek was the one most easily visible. "Thanks. I must've gotten lots of cheek kisses." You remarked. "Is this the one that got you thinking?" You put a hand over his, which was still on your face.

"You read my mind." You studied his face of oddly deep concentration. While he was looking at you, he didn't even realize he wasn't meeting your gaze. Instead, he seemed to be memorizing your features.

"Compared to the others, this one is small." This comment seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

"Where are the rest?" His hand stayed on your cheek, but seemed ready to move to the next area at any point.

"I've got a fair amount on my arms and hands. There's one on the base knuckle of my right index finger, and another just underneath the first knuckle of my left ring finger." He took both of your hands in his, moving to study them next.

"You were well loved." He threaded your fingers together. "They were sweet to you, and married you." You began to grow shy once you realized the implications of the birthmark on your ring finger, and a little upset with yourself for not realizing that sooner.

"I'd never thought of that." You cleared your throat, and pushed past the mild embarrassment. "I also have one on my left forearm, and one on both of the backs of my shoulders." He let go of your right hand to run his fingers up your arm and to your back, but held steadfast onto your left hand. He remained silent, his lips a thin line.

"I have one over my heart, and one in the center of my chest." You pressed a finger over the center of your chest where you knew the mark was. Solomon's frigid hands settled over your heart. You hoped he couldn't feel how it was racing under his touch.

"Is that all of them?" He finally met your eyes. They were filled with a tenderness you could only place as fondness.

"No, I have a couple more." You took his free hand, and guided it down to where the remaining two were. You knew he'd do it anyways. "I've got one here." You placed his hand on your hip. After steeling your nerves, you guided his hand lower down to your inner thigh. "And one here."

"You were well loved." He repeated. You'd expected some sort of snide comment about the placement of the last one, but that didn't even seem to be on his mind. You stared at him, trying to figure out what thoughts were running through his head. You left his hand on your leg, and stroked his face like he'd done for you moments ago.

"Solomon, are you jealous?" The corners of his lips twitched at your comment.

"What if I am?" He sighed. He held your left hand close to his body, and cuddled you close to him.

"Did you ever consider that maybe it was you?" You whispered.

"Me?" Solomon sounded surprised.

"I think it was you. If you don't believe that the way I do, you can replace them. That way, I have double the kisses from you, and you know for sure your lips were the last to touch me." You could tell your words were getting through to him by the way his zeroed in on yours.

Instead of responding, he lifted your left hand to his lips, and kissed your left ring finger, and ghost of a smile on his face. "Then, I have work to do, don't I?"

#gn reader #drabble #obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #omswd #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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fortuneforsaken-if · 3 days ago

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What is a King to a God, and what is a God to a non-believer?

DEMO ☥ PINTEREST

This game is geared for mature audiences and as such is strictly 18+.

Ancient shackles bind you to the mortal realm, a soul severed from a home lost to the sands of time. A curse on you, a blessing for those who take command; Who wouldn't like to own a God?

You're the highly revered deity of fortune. Or you were, five thousand and eighty-two years ago. Now you're nothing but a glorified plaything to one of the most powerful families in the world. Every demand you must fulfill, no matter how vile or self-serving. The illusion of choice is all but shattered, there's nothing you can do to change it.

Or is there?

It takes a simple thing for something to shift. A fragment from the past, an ageless, flickering hum of power that unfurls the hands of fate and unearths buried sparks of hope. No one would've thought that an ancient sherd would hold the first hint to your freedom, a warm, familiar sensation of your soul locked in a tomb somewhere where no mortal has stepped in well over five thousand years.

Let's hope the decay doesn't take you before you find your way back home.

☥ FEATURES ☥

Two separate sides to customization; The one mortals perceive, and your true form. Choose names, appearances, gender, pronouns, sexuality, romantic orientation, and more.

Shape the personality that starts to re-emerge after being dulled for the better part of history. Reconnect with yourself, and get in touch with memories and feelings you lost so long ago.

Experience a character-driven story full of twists and turns that eventually determine how each of the three endings play out.

Romance one (or two) potential love interests from a cast of characters; A shunned archaeologist, a primordial God, the reincarnation of a priestess, or the mysterious man you can't quite place. Or don't, it's up to you.

And last but not least: Don't let the decay reach your heart. Every change of fortune has consequences, and mindfulness is encouraged. This game does have bad endings.

☥ CAST OF CHARACTERS ☥

Zain/Zaina Tharset ∆ M or F, 28

"You're my birthright, and I'd sooner have you dead than let you make a fool out of me."

Z is your charge. Loud, obnoxious, and entitled; They don't care about your feelings or protests. Every desire that leaves them only serves them alone, and it's on brand for most of the charges you've had before. In simple terms, Z is not a good person, and the more time you serve under them, the less you believe they have any redeeming qualities.

Like everyone in the family, Z has warm brown skin with golden undertones, and eyes in light shades of brown. Their hair is naturally curly and shaved on the sides, leaving a strip of hair on the top and back, like a fashionable mohawk. Zaina's hair reaches the middle of her shoulder blades, while Zain's stops at the nape of his neck.

Being bound to them is painful, but you have no choice. Trying to retrieve your soul will be an ordeal, and it might not be worth the agony.

Rami Tharset ∆ M, 28, RO

"Just because the world has forgotten you, forgotten them, doesn't mean I will."

Rami is the twin brother of your current charge. Kind and humble, it's difficult to imagine him a part of the Tharset family on count of how different he is from that pit of vipers. He keeps to himself, usually holed away in a library or study where he digs into the history of, well, you. Or the ancient world you came from. This has caused the rest of the archeological community to shun him, the name of your old empire nothing more than a myth and a glorified fairy tale.

Rami shares his family's warm brown skin tone, and the black curly hair that's usually a messy mop that sits on top of his head, unstyled and naturally chaotic. It reaches just the stop of his ears, and is shaved in the back. Light brown eyes that are quite blurry without his glasses, but the gold-tinted pilot-framed lenses fit him nicely.

He's one of the few friendly faces you face in the Tharset circle, and you curse your misfortune that you couldn't have him as a charge instead.

Maluset ∆ M, N/A, RO

"For all I am, all I have controlled, still I could not keep you safe. Forgive me, old friend."

The God of the Night, and everything that you have left of an age and life long forgotten. While the rest of your pantheon faded one by one, he remained. You've always known Maluset as a calm presence, a steadfast and unperturbed God that never let himself be shaken, by mortals or his siblings.

While Mal prefers manifesting as his animal motif - a jackal made of black marble and eyes like consolidated galaxies - he does have a human form too. If he must appear mortal, his skin takes the color of what the mortals of your time had; bronzed, medium brown with a golden undertone. His hair would be jet black and curly, medium length, and he likes it naturally tousled by the winds. If necessary, he'll let his eyes appear dark brown in color, but he prefers the starlit skies in them instead.

He's been a constant in your life, at least until he disappeared three centuries ago. You know he's still out there since the realm where you take shelter is his, and it hasn't yet disappeared.

Rory Ewing ∆ F, 23, RO

"I can't remember, but your face, it stirs something in my heart. Why? Who was I to you?"

Rory is a new acquaintance to you, but there's something very familiar about her. She might just be a student now, her curiosity bringing her close to you, but you can feel an old connection whenever she's close by. Her voice reminds you of prayers long ago, even if her modern vernacular is closer to 'damn, that shit's the bomb' than hymns sung in your praise. Then again, reincarnation has a way of changing people.

It doesn't, however, change appearances. Back in your day, Rory's vessel was a traveler from the north; Her skin was light beige, rosy in its undertones. Her hair was thick and a subdued red, woven into an intricate braid that hung over her shoulder, reaching her midriff. Her eyes were also uncommon to you; pale green, vibrant but ghostly.

She doesn't remember you, and maybe that's for the best. Her new self is a stark contrast to who she was, and you don't think she'd enjoy the idea of donning priestess garb over the punk-rockish getup she wears now.

Taz Arian ∆ M, 34, RO

"Funny, isn't it? How some people seem familiar, even when they shouldn't be."

Taz is... Someone. He appears out of nowhere to join your journey, his knowledge of old ruins and tombs handy but somewhat worrying when he shouldn't even be able to see you. There's a strange thrum of power coming from him whenever he speaks, and you swear you've met him before, but where? It might be easier to find out if he didn't deflect and flirt his way out of things, but it does help with mortals that can't see you.

His appearance is nothing extraordinary; Dark brown hair that's held up in a bun, and you could assume it reaches his shoulders when loose, the loose curls pulling it a tad shorter. His eyes are light in color, almost golden in the right light, glinting with mischief. His skin is weathered, and golden bronze in color, with an intricate tattoo of an eagle spanning across his chest. He also sports a short beard, which gives him a rogueish look.

There is something about him that tugs at your memories, but you can't catch that thread of remembrance for long enough to recall him. Still, he doesn't seem to mind and resorts to teasing you instead.

#fortune forsaken if #interactive fiction #if wip #choicescript #intro post #man i still suck at tagging huh #anyway hi #if demo #if game #dashingdon #kinda but not quite

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wifes-xxx · 3 days ago

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There have been moments, especially when we open our hearts to a husband , where you have felt a distance between you. I know It's as if the door to your heart opens just halfway, holding back parts of you out of fear, caution, or maybe something you now can't quite understand. It struck you deeply like a slap, and you couldn't help but fee this realisation, it sounds like you are being self centred "I can't believe you would be someone so selfish. That you cant give yourself over completely to your relationship. What a dried up and broken woman you have become"

The beauty of exploring love languages and embracing our vulnerabilities lies in their reflection of real-life relationships. These concepts encourage us to examine our own connections, fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation for the complexities of love. It's an invitation to reflect on how we communicate affection and how we can better align with our loved ones, paving the way for more fulfilling relationships

Have you noticed sometimes when you do want it from a your guy , it almost feels like you’re invisible to him?

Are you nodding along?

Has this happened to you?

You already know you’re smitten. With your husband, only…you’re not bold and slutty, so you don’t feel comfortable just walking over and dropping to your knees and unzipping his pants and pulling it out, or telling him that you’re horny and need fucking… now!

So what can you do because you know it’s insulting to him for you to be a boring prude?

It’s fairly easy to get attention, but that doesn’t in any way guarantee that he will want to fuck you. Just something to be aware of. Once you have his attention, you’ll want to really notice what his reaction to you is. Does he smile while listening to every word, or is he busier checking his phone than talking to you? The sharper your observation skills, the less time you waste on knowing how to please him.

Grow up…you’re acting like you’re in middle school. You’re not. There are better, high-value ways to get his attention. Be his wife, his woman and his lover. Show him what you have and let him enjoy you.

Never be boring or distant.

Instead make yourself interesting and be interested in him and his desires. Learn what makes him hard.

Think of each moment like the dating game, you may be insecure about flirting or expressing your interest. It will take practice, but you’ve got this! Show some sexual aggression and really let him know what you have in mind. Use your brain. Or play open docile and ditzy. If it makes him hard and your feeling horny and wet, know in your heart its working for you. Remember that.

Be his good girl a figure out what turns him on and makes him hard, and interested. Usually, within a few minutes of conversation and , you can deduce this. Obviously, look for a bulge, but also keep an eye out for signs of breast gaze and lip gazing what part of your body is he focused upon! Display yourself with abandon like the women these men look at on Tumblr. They are interested atvtmhem for a reason. Forgot you self and think about why men masturbate to these kind of women pictures.

Let it change you prudish self.

Keep the conversation going once you have his attention, and make it clear that you’re not just being normal friendly (you’re being flirty friendly!). Use your language in and out of the bedroom to keep him engaged.

“You make me so wet”

“Never Stop”

“That feels amazing”

“Does that feel good?”

“I can feel your dick throbbing”

“I want you here right now”

“I want You so bad”

“I was thinking about you today”

“ oh fuck me, Just Like That”

“You make me want to scream”

“Fill me up”

” I'm curious honey what porn makes you. Hard“

“Fuck me like you mean it”

“Harder”

“I feel tiny in your arms”

“I love you”

“I love your dick”

“I want your cum”

“Kiss Me”

“Make me cum baby”

“Seeing you right after a workout”

“Taste Me”

“Your cock is stretching me out”

“I'm not wearing my panties today“

Feel free to share you favourites with me.

Oh God, this felt amazingly good to write. I am sooo ready for him.

S_XXX

#christian wife #happyhousewife #relationship #connection #confession #open minded #exposure therapy #christian blog

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kinichval · 24 hours ago

Note

hello hello hello! i’d love for you to write something similar to the pic below with kinich, plus any other characters if you like. you can also add your own style to make it even better. love your works! i’ll definitely be sticking for more. 🫶

I ADORE KINICH SO MUCH > . < and i adore u too thank u so much for loving my writing !!

kinich is a fully-booked saurian hunter and commissioner, working his ass off for mora the moment he wakes up until the last hour of night. by the time he arrives home, he's exhausted and wants nothing more than to rest. this is why you're often at his place, his tired state makes house chores look like a big inconvenience and a hindrance to his well-deserved slumber; so in order for him to maintain a tip-top state of mind and body, you cook meals for him and clean his place.

kinich is grateful to have an angel like you in his life, you didn't ask for any return and insisted that you do these things for him simply because you love him. it warms his heart and feels an embrace that he learned to realize that this is what love is supposed to look like. although, sometimes he can't push away the thoughts that he may not be loving you enough.

instead of swallowing him up, he takes it as an open doorway to learn how to love you better. to grow with you and love the changes that come with growth.

and how kinich makes up for his busy schedule is through his now-not-so-secret morning routine.

time check, it's 4:30 in the morning, the first alarm blares through his ears and shoots vibrations that wake him up. "mornin'" he mumbles, leaning closer to close the gap between your bodies and wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

sometimes you wake up, sometimes you don't. but you know that right after he pulls you in a cuddly embrace, he kisses the back or top of your head, forehead, or your cheeks; in the days you are awake, you smile, feeling warmth in the morning as you lean in closer (if that's still possible) to your lover, your kinich.

just for a few minutes, he wants to hold you a little closer the first thing in the morning. you are his sunshine, his reason for living.

and then, the next alarm rings at 4:35, this is the moment when kinich has to get out of bed. most times, he wishes he could stay in and be with you until you wake up as well, having his arms around you as you cook breakfast or converse with you as you both do household chores together on a lazy sunday afternoon.

at least kinich gets his daily dose of affection that helps him thrive the whole day of back-to-back missions and duties.

the domesticity of it all hugs kinich's heart and reminds him of your promise to stay, to choose him in all ways, always.

#kval — spike rush.#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact kinich #kinich #kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich drabbles #kinich x y/n #kinich imagines #kinich fluff #kinich fanfic

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whimsyvixen · 1 day ago

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Ooh would you ever do a piece on like a riot cop/riot suppression officer? Just a big burly guy with a face covering helmet that wants nothing more than to pound some law and order into the mc

Men in uniform always have clutching my pearls. Abuse of authority kink makes me one sick woman but I can't help my desires. I want to be held down by a strong man, especially by one that is hellbent on putting me in my place~~⛓️😩

You have a very peculiar head on those shoulders, darling. I absolutely love it~ 🖤♥️. You actually gave me a bit of motivation to doodle something for this idea of yours. I can't offer you a story so this drabble is the best I can give you. I hope you like it ✌️💋💋💋!!

Red Velvet

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Riot police officer x female reader

⚠️ WARNINGS/TAGS⚠️: explicit content, yandere, dark smut, rape/non-con elements, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, mating press, forced breeding, slapping, dacryphilia, degradation, dirty talk.

You're shrieking and sobbing from the exquisite fucking being forced on you. It was too much! I couldn't do this anymore. You're trying to shove him away and pleading for him to be more gentle, your squirming doing little to disrupt the tempo of his pistoning hips.

Desperately, you threw your hand forward with all your might and your fist connected with his face. He let out a grunt of pain, holding his nose with one hand while he held you down with the other hand to pin you to the floor. Seeing him gingerly touch his nose to determine the damage, your struggles renewed to get away from him. Suddenly, a vicious backhand twisted your head to the side, your stunned face breaking out in more tears from the sting on your cheek.

"The hard way it is then," there is a vacant look in his eyes as he stares down at you, making you dread what he had in store for you. He is quick to grab the back of your knees, pushing them to your chest to fold you into a more obscene position.

He doesn't give you time to formulate a protest before your high pitched cries echo across the room once more as he jackhammers into your poor abused pussy, the filthy squelch of cock piercing the walls of your womanhood audible over the repeated slap of wet flesh clashing against one another. Tears blur the image of the riot police officer above you, his black attire pristine if not for the blood smeared across it.

Those poor people. They didn't deserve it and here you were, allowing the monster responsible for their deaths pound away at your insides like a common whore.

"I'm almost there, you rebellious little bitch," he hissed over you, his serpentine eyes fixated on his cock plundering the heated depths of your pussy. His brows scrunched in near pain as your cunt strangles his dick, your walls gripping the rod of flesh so tightly that it was almost hard to pull out of you when he shifted his hips back.

"I'm cumming inside this tight little pussy." He chuckled at your horrified expression, bringing one gloved hand down to rub your swollen clit tenderly before pinching it between his fingers. The action had your hips thrusting up, a mortifying moan escaping your lips as you shook from the painful pleasure. Your eyes rolled back as he continued applying pressure to your sensitive nub, your mind no longer coherent as your body became a slave to his touch. Your hips started grinding shyly into his thrusts, unable to resist the decadent pleasure of a dick stretching your cunt and kissing your womb with every deep thrust.

"Good girl, let's end this, yeah?" He murmured sweetly, his harsh breathing muffled behind his mask. "I can feel my balls tightening up. Get ready for my load, bitch. You'll be drowning in it soon enough."

#riot police officer oc #yandere male #yandere #tw yandere #dark smut #tw noncon #mask kink #dark content #dark imagine #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yandere police officer

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chrissv4mp · 2 days ago

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𐙚 ᯓ stupid crush — ᡣ𐭩

she didn't understand why she felt like this, why she felt so... warm. especially when you were around. any time you even came within a 5 feet radius of her, she'd feel like she was going to explode. her cheeks would heat up, and she wouldn't know how to act, what to say—she didn't even know how to breathe when you were around her. which reminded her... you were lying right on her chest, and that only made the struggle to breathe worse. she hopes you didn't notice, but with the way your hand ran across her stomach so often, she was sure you might've caught on earlier than she expected. billie had been the one to invite you over after you got off your shift, and you happily accepted her invitation because she was never really the one to ask.

so, here you were, your bodies laying on her bed as a song from your shared playlist plays at a low volume from the speaker on her nightstand. the rain from outside hit her window, the quiet pitter-patter noises making the whole scene complete. it was something straight out of some classic friends-to-lovers film. her bedside lamp was on, lighting the room up just enough so that you could see her face and she could see yours. she was counting each of the little freckles on your face as you shut your eyes, relaxing into her. she ran a hand through your hair, her fingers scratching your scalp so softly, so carefully as she lulled you even further into a sleepy state of mind. she was praying you didn't hear the fast beating of her heart as she held you, not moving too much because she was scared that she'd do something wrong and you'd leave.

she grabbed her phone from her pocket, careful not to make too much noise as she unlocked her phone and went into her voice notes. she was sure you were asleep by now, your gentle breathing and quiet demeanor, a crystal clear sign. but, as she played the most recent one, titled 'stupid crush,' she regretted not making sure that you were actually asleep. her voice erupted from the speaker on her nightstand, and the first words that were heard were, "this is fucking stupid. i... love y/n. there was that—?" until billie finally came to her senses and paused it, the music resuming almost immediately. if her heart wasn't racing, it sure as hell was now. you stirred in your... sleep?—daze?—she didn't know, but now you were looking directly into her eyes with the... softest expression on your face. your eyes spoke for you, but billie was sure she was misreading the smile that began to creep onto your face. you were going to laugh. make fun of her—

"what's so 'fucking stupid' about that?" you giggle softly, voice slightly raspy and eyes glossed over with multiple emotions. all of which were for billie to decipher because she knew damn well she wasn't gonna get any answers from between your pretty pink lips until she finally admitted her feelings. but she didn't know what to say, and not even the music playing softly in the background calmed her anymore. she shut off her phone, tossing it to the empty side of the bed as she gulped quietly, "tell me, i'm quite interested." you sat up, sitting on her lap as you always did because you could never not be at least somewhat in her personal space. maybe that's part of what helped develop her crush on you. her stupid crush. on you. her best friend, of all people. she cleared her throat of the suffocating feeling as she sat up straighter, body tensing as she hopelessly murmured, "because you're my best friend. we're—y/n, we can't be—"

"who says we can't be together?" you scoff, a half-amused, half-annoyed look on your face. when she blinked, it was like you were a million miles closer to her, your lips inches apart, breath fanning over her face. she gulped again, eyes scurrying over to the empty side of the bed, biting on her lip nervously as she tried to think about what to say. it wasn't like she didn't want you to be her girlfriend, she was just... scared of messing it all up. when you cupped her cheek and turned her head back towards you, her eyes widened, "gimme one reason." you whisper, eyes darting down to her plump lips as you scoot closer to her body, shorts riding up your thighs. she doesn't respond, feeling frozen in the same song that just ended began to play again through the speaker, "billie," you murmur, lips only inches away from hers, almost brushing against each other as your hand travels down and wraps around the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. when your other hand comes up to her shoulder, she only then decides to speak, "because it'll be ten times harder to let you go."

"then you better hold me tight so that won't happen." you whisper before your lips crash softly against hers, pulling her closer by her neck. she doesn't pull away, your words slowly processing in her head as her own hands cautiously grab a hold of your waist, almost pulling you onto her lower abdomen in an attempt to get you closer. she wanted you two to be whole, even after all the doubt she spat out before. your words sunk deep into her heart, and now she didn't have a worry in the world. as long as you were with her, everything would be fine. she'd just have to hold you. close. tight. secure. as long as possible... and maybe even forever. she smirks against your mouth as she feels your tongue run across her lower lip, pulling away only a few inches as she opens her eyes, staring deeply into yours and never looking away, "so... i guess i should rename the voice note 'stupid girlfriend,' now?" she giggles as you roll your eyes, pushing her shoulder softly, "i think you're the stupid one."

𐙚 amiyaps : guys the landing of my flight scared the absolute SHIT out of me... cus tell me why we were dropping so fast bro 🙁

𐙚 tags : @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

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theoretically-questionable · 10 hours ago

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I used to live with someone with a pathological degree of demand avoidance around necessary maintenance, cleaning, and tasks. Sometimes they would cause a problem and just... hide it.

It drove me nuts. At one point, I was just seething with frustration: we were both adults, but it felt like I was living with the world's most petulant teenager.

Then, one evening, we were talking about family, and they said something offhand about how they were never able to communicate honestly with one of their parents because "nothing was ever good enough". I asked a follow-up question, and then spent the next few days consumed with a desire to tear that parent apart with my teeth.

In short, my friend had lived for two decades and change with a parent convinced that negative feedback and 'tough love' was the best way to ensure discipline and competence. Instead, as evidenced, this approach had produced an adult who only had negative associations with trying to improve or take responsibility for literally anything.

This conversation, and the follow-up ones, run through my mind every time my own child, who is a toddler, trots up to me and says "oh no! i broked it!" or, worse, the delughtfully ambiguous "oh! a mess!" (which could mean anything from "a cat threw up and I trod in it" to "i have deliberately drawn on the wall with crayon again and then remembered I'm not supposed to do that".

Because, unsurprisingly, I have been deathly serious about not providing negative feedback when things go wrong, and DOUBLY so when Toddler actually tells me something went wrong.

I don't get annoyed with them. I don't tell them off. I don't even force them to take part in the clean-up if they refuse.

"Oh but then they'll never learn to be careful and avoid these things in the first plac-"

*worlds loudest incorrect buzzer sound*

Here's a surprise: people don't like it when things go wrong. Children are, importantly, a type of people.

Kids don't enjoy living with mess! Kids like knowing where to find things! Kids like it when things are easier, rather than harder!

Young Toddler is currently both capable of and willing to notice and clean up spilled drinks and dropped food by themselves, without being asked, without distress. They are also getting better at avoiding these things.

They are *two* years old, and they have achieved a set of skills that, apparently, according to parents around me, teens can't master.

It is really easy and important to apply tenderness when teaching, otherwise you run the risk of teaching the honesty out of your kids.

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

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rafesapologist · 3 days ago

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the setback ─ rafe cameron; part seventeen

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

author's note: this series has been a long time coming and i am so happy it has taken off the way it has. i appreciate all the love and support you all have given this story, but we have reached the end. i do not want to overkill this story or beat a dead horse, because the longer it goes on it leaves room for more to happen than i planned for. i plan on pursuing other stories from here but this one will always have my heart because it was my first ever on tumblr. <3

Sofia’s admission hit Rafe like ice water on a fevered brow, jolting him out of his haze with a suddenness that nearly knocked the air from his lungs. The dim, pulsing lights of the club blurred as he shoved through the writhing crowd, his mind teetering on the edge of panic. Every step felt like wading through quicksand, the noise of laughing strangers and the thrum of bass only deepening his disorientation. His chest tightened, his breaths coming short and rapid as the realization of your danger tunneled his vision, choking his throat with an unfamiliar dread.

By the time Rafe burst through the doors and into the humid night air, he was gasping. His hands gripped his knees, his body doubled over as he fought for control, the sharp sting of fear pumping through his veins like a poison. The streetlights cast jagged shadows across the cracked pavement beneath him, their orange glow flickering with every unsteady breath he drew. His heart hammered against his ribs as if it were trying to tear free, every pulse of it screaming a warning that reverberated through his entire being.

His thoughts came in fragmented bursts, spiraling—she’s in danger—a relentless echo. He pictured you, vulnerable, caught in some trap his father had set. His mind spun with worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last, while the terror of losing you drove him to the brink of collapse. A wave of nausea hit him, but he forced it back, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing down the panic threatening to unravel him.

He couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not like this.

Standing upright, Rafe ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, the night air doing nothing to cool the heat surging beneath his skin. The world outside the club seemed to spin in slow motion, people passing by oblivious to the storm raging within him. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus, adrenaline igniting something feral and primal in his chest. He knew only one thing: he had to find you, and there wasn’t a second to waste.

Rafe’s eyes darted wildly around the street as he paced, his mind racing with chaotic thoughts that he struggled to piece together. His fingers raked through his dirty blond hair, pulling at the strands in frustration, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribcage. Every muscle in his body was tight with anxiety, and he could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. He had to calm down—he knew that. But the fear gnawed at him, relentless, pulling him deeper into a spiral.

Get it together. Focus. He whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rush of his own breathing. The thought of you being in danger sent another wave of panic through him, but he forced himself to push it down. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. He couldn’t afford to. Not with you on the line.

The idea of getting in his truck crossed his mind, but the very notion of driving in the state he was in felt like a death sentence. His body still buzzed with the remnants of coke and alcohol, the drugs pulsing through his bloodstream, clouding his judgment. If he got behind the wheel now, it would be reckless, maybe even fatal. And then there was Topper—no help at all, slumped somewhere back in the club, likely even more wasted than Rafe was. No, he was on his own. Or at least he thought he was.

Then it hit him like a bolt of clarity: Barry.

He grimaced at the thought, but desperation left him with no other choice. Barry was the last person he wanted to rely on, the kind of person you only called when things were far past the point of no return. But that’s exactly where he was now—past the point of no return. If anyone had the connections, the means to track down his father or whatever shady plot Ward had concocted, it would be Barry.

Rafe’s phone trembled in his hand as he pulled it out of his pocket, the screen blurry as he scrolled through his contacts. His fingers hesitated above Barry’s name, but he took a breath and tapped the call button. The dial tone seemed to stretch on forever, each ring tightening the knot of anxiety in his stomach.

Finally, a gravelly voice answered on the other end. “Rafe? The hell you callin’ me for at this hour?”

Rafe swallowed hard, his voice strained as he spoke. “I need your help, Barry. It’s… it’s about my dad. And it’s about her.”

There was a pause on the line, a low chuckle from Barry that sent a chill down Rafe’s spine. “This better be worth my time, Cameron. You know how I work.”

“I know,” Rafe gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of the situation settle even heavier on his shoulders. “Just meet me at the docks. I’ll explain everything.”

With that, he hung up, his jaw clenched as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. His hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn’t just from fear—it was anger. Anger at his father, anger at Sofia, anger at the world for putting you in this mess.

Rafe’s feet pounded against the pavement, the night air sharp against his flushed skin. His vision tunneled once again, the world around him reduced to nothing but a blur of shadows and streetlights. His breath came in ragged gasps, the sting of adrenaline burning in his lungs, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. His legs carried him forward with reckless speed, driven by the sheer force of desperation.

The dock wasn’t far, but it felt like miles as he sprinted down the road, heart hammering in his chest. Maybe it was the cocktail of substances still coursing through his veins, or maybe it was the raw fear gnawing at him, but he ran like his life depended on it.

No, not his life—yours.

Every thought, every heartbeat, was consumed by the image of you in danger, your face flashing before his eyes as he pushed himself harder. The world around him felt surreal, distorted, like a fever dream where time slowed and sped up at random. The night sky seemed to tilt above him, the ground swaying beneath his feet, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t.

The familiar smell of saltwater hit his nose as he neared the dock, the wooden structure looming ahead, dimly lit by a few flickering lamps. His steps faltered for just a second as he spotted a figure leaning against one of the posts, the outline unmistakable even from a distance. Barry.

Rafe forced himself to slow down, his heart still racing as he approached. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a vice, but there was no turning back now. He needed answers. He needed you safe.

Barry lifted his head as Rafe came into view, his smirk visible even in the low light. “You look like shit, Cameron.”

Rafe's words came out in a frantic rush, barely coherent as his panic clawed its way to the surface. His breath was uneven, and his eyes, wild with desperation, darted toward Barry with an intensity that made it clear how urgent this was. “We have to find Y/N. I need you to help me find her, please, I—”

Barry narrowed his eyes, exhaling another lazy stream of smoke, clearly enjoying watching Rafe unravel. "Whoa, slow down," he said, his voice thick with amusement, like he was savoring Rafe's desperation. "You're all worked up for what? A girl? I thought you'd grown a spine by now."

Rafe took a step closer, fists clenched at his sides, his voice strained as he tried to steady himself. “This isn’t a joke, Barry. My dad’s involved. Sofia’s involved. They’re coming after her, and I can’t—” his voice broke for a moment, "I can’t let them hurt her."

Barry tilted his head, flicking the cigarette butt onto the ground and grinding it under his heel. “Ward’s always got his hands in some deep shit, doesn’t he?” His smirk widened, but his eyes sharpened with interest. “So, you’re saying there’s trouble. Sounds like a dangerous game, Rafe. How do I know your daddy won't turn around and fuck me over next?"

Rafe’s jaw tightened as Barry’s smirk deepened, the question lingering like a taunt. He knew Barry wasn’t the type to jump into anything without weighing the risks—especially when it involved the Camerons. Taking a shaky breath, Rafe tried to steady himself, to present some semblance of control. "Because I’ll make sure it doesn’t. This is on me, not you. I just need your help."

Barry let out a low chuckle, amused by Rafe's desperation. "Oh, so now you're the hero? What makes you think you can keep me out of the crossfire when your whole family’s knee-deep in it?"

Rafe ran a trembling hand through his dirty blond hair, feeling the weight of the substances in his system pulling him down. "You won't be on the radar. My dad won’t even know you're involved. This is between me and him. Sofia’s already in, so you’ve got leverage."

Barry’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as he considered the offer. His fingers drummed against his side, eyes studying Rafe. “Leverage, huh? Sounds like you’re neck-deep in something nasty. And if it backfires...”

“It won’t,” Rafe interrupted, his voice sharp and pleading all at once. "I’ll make sure it doesn’t."

Barry stared him down for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally, he flicked a glance at Rafe, sizing him up. “Alright,” he said, his voice slow, calculating. “But if this does turn sideways, I’ll bury you before Ward even gets a chance. You hear me?”

Rafe nodded quickly, the words slicing through his panic. "Yeah, I hear you. Just help me find her."

"Well alright," Barry sighed almost in defeat, his shoulders slumping as he turned his heel, motioning Rafe to follow, "let's get goin'."

Rafe let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his pulse still racing but with a flicker of hope now threaded through the fear. He quickly followed Barry to the beat-up truck, the gravel crunching under their feet. The night air felt heavy, thick with the tension of what they were about to do.

Barry opened the driver’s side door, glancing back at Rafe with a half-smirk. “Get in. And try not to puke in my truck, yeah?”

Rafe ignored the jab, climbing into the passenger seat as Barry started the engine. The old truck roared to life, and they took off down the road, the headlights slicing through the dark.

As they sped away from the dock, the inside of the truck was filled with the low hum of the engine and the rattling of loose parts. Rafe stared out the window, his mind spinning with thoughts of you. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, the knot in his stomach tightening with every mile. He couldn’t stop imagining what his father might do, or what Sofia’s resentment might lead to.

Barry, sensing Rafe’s silence, glanced over, his eyes flicking between the road and his passenger. “So, what exactly does your daddy have planned this time?” he asked, voice casual, but there was a sharpness behind it.

Rafe didn’t answer right away, his jaw clenching as he replayed the chaotic events of the past few days. Ward’s betrayal, Sofia’s confession, the looming threat that seemed to press down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

“I don’t know all the details,” Rafe finally muttered, his voice tight with frustration. “But it’s bad. Real bad.”

Barry raised an eyebrow, his hands steady on the wheel as they sped down the dimly lit road. “Define ‘bad,’ Rafe. You’re talkin’ like your old man’s about to blow up the island or somethin’.”

Rafe shook his head, running his hand through his disheveled hair. “He put a hit out on her. On y/n.” His voice cracked slightly, as if saying it out loud made the threat even more real. “He thinks she’s tied up with John B and the Pogues, thinks she’s some kind of liability. But she’s not, Barry. She’s innocent.”

Barry let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Ward Cameron never could tell the difference between business and personal, could he?”

The truck hit a bump in the road, but neither of them flinched. The silence stretched, the gravity of the situation settling between them like a storm cloud.

“So, you’re up against Ward now,” Barry said, glancing sideways at Rafe again. “Man, you’ve got balls. Most people would’ve run for the hills by now.”

“I’m not running,” Rafe snapped, his anger flaring up again. “I’m not letting him ruin her life like he’s ruined mine.”

Barry grinned, the corners of his mouth tugging up in that familiar, crooked way. “Alright, man. I’m in. But just know, whatever comes next—it’s gonna get ugly.”

Barry's truck roared down the deserted streets, the engine's growl a constant, urgent reminder of the time slipping away. Rafe sat in the passenger seat, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat, knuckles white and strained. The road stretched out before them like an unending ribbon of asphalt, the dim streetlights casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to dance with his growing panic.

Every minute felt like an eternity as they drove through familiar yet alien landscapes. They passed by the docks, the bars, and the places you’d once frequented. Rafe's eyes darted around, desperately scanning for any sign of you, but the night remained stubbornly indifferent. The neon signs of local bars blurred into a chaotic smear of color, each one a reminder of how many places he had searched and how many hours had slipped by.

“Damn it!” Rafe yelled, his voice cracking with frustration. He punched the dashboard with a force that made the truck’s interior shudder but didn’t quite break anything. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as he tried to keep himself calm, but the fear that something terrible might happen to you was relentless.

Barry's eyes flickered over to Rafe, a mix of concern and impatience etched on his face. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, the knuckles on his hands turning a stark white. “Look, we’ve been driving around for half an hour, hitting all your usual spots. There’s no sign of her,” Barry said, his voice steady but edged with frustration. He glanced at Rafe, who was staring out the window with a look of desolation.

Barry’s gaze shifted back to the road, then to Rafe. “Alright, look, why don’t we just show up at John B’s and ask ‘em where she’s at? I mean, it won’t hurt to check. We might find something there.”

Defeat etched over Rafe's features as he slumped down into the passenger's seat, momentarily peering over at Barry as if he was contemplating his suggestion. Everywhere else seemed to be a bust, therefor it was the only option left for him to go. "Alright," he sighed, throwing his hands up, "let's go."

Barry's eyes softened with a hint of empathy as he observed Rafe's expression. The stark contrast between Rafe's usually confident demeanor and the current look of defeat was jarring. Without a word, Barry turned the truck around, the vehicle's headlights slicing through the night, leading them back toward familiar terrain.

The road felt endless under the truck’s tires, each mile stretching out with agonizing slowness. The lights of bars and shops, once vibrant and promising, now seemed to mock Rafe’s anxiety with their indifferent glow. He sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the window, eyes following the blur of passing streetlights and shadows.

As they approached the chateau, Rafe’s mind raced. The enormity of the situation pressed down on him, the fear for your safety overwhelming every other thought. Barry parked the truck outside John B’s place, the vehicle’s engine rumbling to a stop. The street was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of a late-night radio.

Rafe glanced over at Barry, his face drawn and weary. “Thanks for doing this,” he said, his voice heavy with gratitude and exhaustion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before they approached the front door.

Barry nodded, giving Rafe a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping out of the truck. They walked up the path to the house, the porch light casting long shadows that danced with their footsteps. The door loomed ahead, a barrier to answers and perhaps, hope.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand and knocked. The sound of the knuckles hitting the wood was sharp and clear, breaking the silence of the night. The minutes felt like hours as they waited, the anticipation almost unbearable. Rafe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind replaying every possible scenario.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a groggy John B with disheveled hair and a puzzled expression. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Rafe and Barry standing on the doorstep.

“Rafe?” John B’s voice was a mix of confusion and concern. "What are you doing here?"

Rafe’s voice trembled with urgency as he stepped into John B’s living room, his eyes scanning the space frantically. His gaze darted around, searching for any sign of you. “I need to find y/n. Is she here?” he asked, his voice laced with desperation and a tinge of fear.

John B’s expression shifted from surprise to a mixture of concern and secrecy. “No, she’s not here.” He swallowed thickly, his gaze darting away briefly as if grappling with something unspoken. His demeanor was tense, a stark contrast to his usual easygoing nature.

Rafe’s pulse quickened. “What do you mean? Where is she? John B, I need to know.”

John B hesitated, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. “Look, Rafe, there’s more to this than you realize. We’re trying to protect her. Ward’s threats— they’re serious. If we don’t keep her hidden, things could get worse.”

Rafe’s eyes widened, panic and anger mixing in his gaze. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re hiding her? Why wouldn’t you tell me? She’s in danger, and I need to find her!”

John B’s face hardened with resolve. “We’re hiding her because it’s the safest place for her right now. Ward’s dangerous, and if he gets a whiff of where she is, it could end badly. I know you’re desperate, but honestly, you’re the last person who should see her right now. You’re the reason she and all of us are in this.”

Rafe’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. “Don’t you dare say I did this to her.” His voice cracked with a mixture of outrage and anguish.

John B’s expression softened for a moment, but his resolve remained firm. “He’s your dad, Rafe.”

The words hung heavily in the air, cutting through the tension like a knife. Rafe’s face contorted with a mix of pain and frustration. “What does that have to do with anything? You think I’m just going to sit back and let him hurt her? I don’t care who he is—he’s not going to touch her.”

John B’s gaze was steady, though there was an undercurrent of sorrow. “It’s not about who he is. It’s about what he’s capable of. He’s dangerous, and you’re right in the middle of it. That makes it harder for us to protect her if you’re involved.”

Rafe’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait? I can’t do that. I need to find her.”

John B stepped closer, his tone firm yet sympathetic. “I get that you want to help, but right now, the best thing you can do is stay away. We’ve got a plan to keep her safe, and bringing you into it could complicate things further. You need to focus on dealing with Ward.”

Rafe wasn't simply going to let it go, not when it involved your wellbeing. His frustration began bubbling higher and higher, his anticipation eating away at him as time passed. John B's refusal to give up your whereabouts only complicated things for Rafe further, leaving him to feel like he was backed into a corner waiting for a war to erupt. He knew John B was not one to back down when he stood his ground, but neither was Rafe.

"Look John B, I know we have never gotten along and probably never will, but for just this instance can you please just put that aside and at least give me a clue to where she could be? I've looked at every corner of the Cut and you guys are my only chance to figure out where she is."

John B's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he considered Rafe’s plea. "You think I’m just going to give her up? After everything?" His voice was sharp, defensive.

Rafe stepped closer, his frustration boiling over. "I’m not asking you to trust me, or even forgive me. I just need to know that she’s safe. Ward’s not going to stop, John B. And if I can’t find her, he will."

John B's hardened expression faltered for a moment. He could see the desperation in Rafe's eyes—the desperation of someone who was genuinely afraid for you. Still, he shook his head, taking a breath as he crossed his arms. "Rafe, I don’t trust you. And I don’t trust that you won't lead your dad straight to her, even if you don’t mean to."

Rafe’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I would never let him touch her. I’m trying to protect her—same as you. I just—" His voice wavered, barely a whisper. "I can't lose her."

John B hesitated, his brow furrowing as he watched Rafe. There was something different in his voice, something more genuine than he’d expected. He wasn’t used to seeing Rafe like this—vulnerable, pleading. It made him hesitate.

"She’s safe," John B finally said, his tone quieter now. "But that’s all you need to know. You need to back off. The more you push, the more danger you put her in."

Rafe’s frustration flared again, but he swallowed it, knowing that arguing more would get him nowhere. He stared at John B for a moment longer, feeling the helplessness creeping up on him. "Just… just tell her I’m trying to help. Please." His voice broke on the last word.

John B nodded stiffly, his expression unreadable. "We’ll make sure she knows," he said, turning to walk back toward the house. "But you need to leave this alone, Rafe. For her sake."

Rafe swallowed hard, the fear and frustration mixing with a sense of helplessness he hadn’t felt in years. "I don’t know how to walk away from this," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I can’t just leave her in danger."

John B’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “You love her, don’t you?”

Rafe’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He looked away, staring at the floor as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

A silence settled over the room, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, John B placed a hand on Rafe’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Then trust us,” he said quietly. “Trust me. We’re on the same side here.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Rafe had never been good at handling silence, and the last three weeks had felt like an eternity. He’d made it through plenty of rough patches before, but this time was different. There was an emptiness he couldn’t shake—a nagging, constant fear gnawing at him from the inside out. The usual distraction tactics weren’t working anymore.

He'd spend hours at the golf course with Topper and Kelce, making small talk about future trips and complaining about the latest club drama. But every time he lined up a shot, his mind wandered back to you. He could see you in his peripheral vision, your smile, your laugh—always just out of reach. Even at the Pelican Yacht Club, with its sun-drenched decks and cool sea breeze, he found no comfort. He'd sit there with a drink in hand, zoning out as his friends talked about plans for the next regatta. It felt like they were in another world, one he couldn’t access.

Rafe had told himself you were with the Pogues, hiding out, and that they were probably getting into their usual reckless trouble. At least if you were with them, you weren’t alone. It should’ve been enough to reassure him, but it wasn’t. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he knew that if Ward had any idea where you were, he’d already have made a move. The thought made him nauseous. Ward was gone too—radio silent. It wasn’t like his father to stay off the grid this long, and the eerie stillness around his disappearance made Rafe’s skin crawl.

Every time his phone buzzed, his heart would leap into his throat. He'd drop whatever he was doing, half expecting your name to light up his screen. But it never was. It was always Topper asking about plans for the night, Kelce wanting to hit the links again, or one of the Kook girls trying to make conversation. He was slipping—losing his grip on his usual cool demeanor. His patience had worn thin, and the smallest annoyances set him off. He could feel his friends’ stares when they thought he wasn’t looking, exchanging concerned glances behind his back.

“What’s with you, man?” Topper had asked him last night, standing on the deck of the club, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “You’ve been out of it lately.”

Rafe had forced a smile, brushing it off with a shrug. “Just family stuff,” he’d said, offering no further explanation. Topper didn’t press, but the worry in his eyes lingered, as if he could see the cracks forming in Rafe’s facade.

In moments of quiet, when the noise of the club died down and the laughter from the other tables faded into background chatter, Rafe felt the crushing weight of his own powerlessness. He didn’t know where you were, if you were safe, or if you were thinking about him at all. And the thought of you being hurt—or worse, alone and afraid—made him want to tear apart the entire island until he found you.

It had never been like this before. He’d never cared so deeply for someone that their absence felt like a physical wound. And now, with both you and his father missing, Rafe felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

He pulled out his phone again, his fingers hesitating over your contact. He hadn’t called you in weeks, not since the last time you’d spoken—the argument you’d had before you disappeared. He wanted to hear your voice, to know that you were okay, but he was afraid you wouldn’t pick up. Afraid you would, and he wouldn’t know what to say.

In the end, he just stared at your name on the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. He hated how weak he felt, how much he needed you. With a frustrated sigh, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair, staring out at the horizon.

Rafe couldn’t stand the noise anymore. The laughter, the clinking glasses, the mindless chatter—it all grated on him like nails on a chalkboard. He clenched his jaw, feeling the tension building in his chest, and before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly.

"I'll catch you guys later," he said, his voice flat.

Topper and Kelce exchanged puzzled looks, caught off guard by his sudden departure. "You good, man?" Kelce called after him, but Rafe didn’t even bother to turn around. He gave a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as he made his way out of the club, ignoring the murmurs of confusion from the group behind him.

He needed to be alone, away from the forced smiles and meaningless conversations. He needed to escape the pressure building inside him like a storm ready to break. His feet carried him quickly to his truck, his hands already fumbling for his keys as he approached. The second he got inside, he slammed the door shut and let out a long, shaky breath.

For the first time all day, he felt a sliver of relief. The silence of the truck enveloped him, offering a brief respite from the chaos swirling in his mind. He leaned back against the seat, staring at the steering wheel as he tried to gather his thoughts. It was the first quiet moment he’d had in weeks, and he felt like he could finally breathe.

He pressed his palms to his eyes, as if the pressure could somehow force the pain out of his head. The knot in his chest tightened when he thought of you—where you were, if you were safe, if you even missed him. He was used to feeling in control, to having answers, but right now, he felt like he was spiraling, clutching at straws to make sense of it all. And then there was Ward's disappearance, which left an eerie silence hanging over his life, amplifying his uncertainty tenfold.

After a few minutes, he exhaled deeply, starting the truck. The engine’s rumble filled the air, grounding him in the moment. He pulled out of the lot and headed back home, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He needed to get away from it all, to shut the world out until he could figure out how to mend the mess inside him.

As he drove, the familiar scenery of Figure Eight blurred past him, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows on the road. It was a drive he’d made a thousand times, but today it felt different. The wind blowing through the open windows didn’t bring its usual comfort; it only reminded him of how empty everything felt without you by his side.

When he pulled into the long driveway of his family’s estate, the house loomed before him, its white facade glowing in the fading light. It was eerily quiet. He cut the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the mansion he’d grown up in. It was supposed to feel like home, but right now, it felt like a prison—a stark reminder of everything that was slipping through his fingers.

He made his way inside, letting the door click shut behind him. The silence of the house was suffocating. Rafe threw his keys on the table and headed up the stairs to his room. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it as he took in the familiar sight of his space. It felt just as empty as everything else.

He sank down onto the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hands. For once, he didn’t try to push the feelings away. He let them wash over him—the fear, the frustration, the longing. He knew he couldn’t hide from it anymore. You were gone, his father was missing, and everything was falling apart.

He squeezed his eyes shut, whispering into the darkness of his room, “Where are you?” The words were a plea, a question directed at you, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him. He just hoped that, wherever you were, you were thinking of him too.

Rafe's chest tightened, and the room seemed to shrink around him as his emotions threatened to boil over. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears, but they welled up regardless, turning his vision blurry. His eyes became red and glossy, the ache in his heart growing unbearable with every passing second. It was like a ghost of you lingered in the room, haunting him with memories he couldn’t escape—your laugh, the way you’d look at him, the feel of your hand in his. Now, all he felt was emptiness.

He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that this was his fault. He had made a grave mistake, he was sure of it. If only he had kept a closer watch, if only he had been more careful, maybe you wouldn’t be in danger now. The thought of you being out there, vulnerable and alone, tore him apart. He could almost see you, scared and needing him, but no matter how hard he tried to reach out, you slipped further away from his grasp.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, his voice cracking as he bit down on the words. The apology felt hollow, echoing back at him in the empty room. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to make the pain stop—but he was trapped in this limbo of not knowing, of being helpless. And for someone like Rafe, who thrived on control, the helplessness was its own special kind of torture.

His hand tightened around his phone, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it like it was the source of all his pain. In a sudden burst of frustration and grief, he hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a sharp crack, then fell to the floor, the screen shattering into pieces. For a moment, the silence after the impact felt almost comforting. He stared at the wreckage, chest heaving, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

But the brief satisfaction faded quickly, replaced by a hollow ache. He started pacing, the walls closing in on him as his thoughts spiraled out of control. His mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios, images of you hurt or scared flashing in his head. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it as if the pain could snap him out of this nightmare.

“Dammit!” he shouted, his voice breaking with a mixture of anger and desperation. He felt like he was losing it. He needed to do something—anything—but there was nowhere to go, no one to fight, and no way to find you. He was stuck, and it felt like drowning in quicksand.

Rafe stopped pacing, leaning against the wall as his body sagged under the weight of it all. His fingers dug into the plaster as he tried to ground himself, taking deep, shuddering breaths to calm the storm raging inside. The tears he had been holding back spilled over, streaking down his cheeks. He wasn’t used to this—crying, feeling this vulnerable. It made him feel weak, and he hated it. But right now, he couldn’t help it. He felt broken, shattered like the phone on the ground, and the pieces were too scattered to put back together.

He slid down the wall, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. He couldn’t escape the thought of you—your smile, the way you’d look at him like he was more than just a Cameron, more than just the troubled son of Ward. He hadn’t realized how much he needed you until you were gone. And now, he was left with nothing but the crushing guilt that he had failed to protect you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he heard the knock echo through the house, slicing through the heavy silence. He froze, wiping his tears quickly and forcing himself to compose. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in hours, and he certainly wasn’t expecting company. The confusion quickly morphed into paranoia. He clenched his jaw, his eyes darting to the front door. His mind raced, imagining who it could be. His father? Back from wherever he’d disappeared to, ready to follow through on his threats? The thought alone sent a chill down his spine.

He needed to be ready.

Rafe’s gaze shifted to his bedside table, where the knife gleamed under the dim light. He reached for it, gripping it tightly in his hand, finding some comfort in the cold metal pressing into his palm. He moved cautiously, his steps light and silent, like a predator stalking prey. As he descended the stairs, every creak of the old wood sounded like a gunshot in his ears, making his heart hammer against his ribs. He held his breath, trying to keep quiet as he approached the door, his pulse throbbing in his throat.

He reached the bottom of the steps, his eyes locked on the door. It was slightly ajar, as if whoever was outside had hesitated, not yet willing to push their way in. Rafe moved closer, his back pressed against the wall, knife held at the ready. He strained to listen, trying to pick up any hint of who it might be on the other side. He didn’t hear much—just the faint sound of someone shifting their weight, maybe a shaky breath. His grip on the knife tightened, his knuckles turning white as he mentally prepared himself for an attack.

With a deep, steadying breath, he reached for the doorknob. His fingers trembled as they wrapped around the cool metal, twisting it slowly. He pulled the door open just a crack, peeking through the small sliver to catch a glimpse of whoever was on the other side. He gulped, his throat dry, as he took in the figure standing in the dim porch light.

Rafe's breath hitched as he stared at you, feeling a wave of emotions he couldn't quite place. Relief, disbelief, anger, and something else he couldn’t name all swirled together, leaving him speechless for a moment. His hand trembled, the knife still held in a death grip at his side. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He just stood there, taking you in like he was trying to convince himself you were real and not some figment of his imagination.

"Y/N?" he whispered, voice cracking. It was as if saying your name aloud might break the fragile spell of the moment. He’d pictured this reunion a thousand times—what he’d say, how he’d react—but now that you were actually here, all those plans evaporated. He felt paralyzed, his eyes scanning you up and down, searching for any sign of harm.

But you looked...fine. Unscathed. Healthier than he'd expected. It threw him off completely. He’d been imagining the worst for weeks, thinking you were in danger, or worse—hurt. Yet here you were, standing on his porch, seemingly calm and collected.

Rafe’s shoulders slumped, his posture collapsing under the weight of all the worry he'd carried. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, feeling the knife slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor. He didn’t even care. He just took a step closer, his eyes fixed on yours, desperate to make sense of what was happening.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he croaked out, his voice breaking. “Where have you been? Why—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as he raked a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me you were okay?”

“I’m tired of hiding, Rafe,” you said flatly, your voice carrying a strange calmness in the chaos of his thoughts. “Nobody else knows that I’m here. I left without telling them.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed in confusion, his mind trying to connect the dots. His heart still pounded in his chest, the weight of everything he’d been through over the past few weeks making it hard to focus. “I... I don’t get it. I thought you hated me because of all of this. I don’t get why—why you’re here.” His voice was shaky, filled with uncertainty as his gaze darted between you and the ground, as if the truth might be hiding in the space between.

"I never hated you," you said, your voice surprisingly steady. You met his gaze head-on, your eyes unflinching, though there was an underlying tension in your shoulders. "I did what I had to do to stay safe."

Rafe's brows furrowed as he processed your words, a painful confusion swirling inside him. "Why didn’t you call me? Why did you disappear without telling me where you were?" His voice cracked with the strain of his emotions. Every inch of his body screamed for answers, for the clarity he'd been missing for weeks.

You stood there, taking a deep breath before answering, the calmness in your voice betraying the storm brewing in your chest. "Because I didn’t want you to come looking for me. Ward knew you would be wherever I was, and I couldn’t risk it."

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, and he felt his world tilt for a second, the weight of your actions now making sense, but only in the way that left him struggling to breathe. He didn’t know how to feel. His hands tightened at his sides, fists clenching as the frustration built up inside him.

"Of course I would look for you, Y/N," Rafe finally choked out, his voice rough with emotion. "I had to make sure you were safe, and it was killing me having to just sit here and hope you were protected."

Your gaze softened, the conflict in your eyes clear as you watched him struggle with the words. You could see the hurt, the years of worry in his eyes, and it made your heart ache in return. But there was something else there too—something you couldn't ignore any longer.

"I know, and I’m sorry." Your voice came out quieter, more fragile, as if it hurt you just as much to say those words. "But I don’t want to do this anymore. No more games, no more hiding, no more danger."

Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as he took in your words, his chest tightening. His first instinct was to reach for you, to pull you into his arms and keep you safe, to make up for the weeks of fear and confusion. But there was something else behind your words, a finality that stopped him in his tracks. He stared at you, disbelief and pain mixing together.

"What do you mean, Y/N?" His voice cracked again, and he fought to steady himself. "What do you mean, 'no more hiding'?"

You took a deep breath, stepping forward slightly, your posture firm but vulnerable. "I mean I want to stop running. I want to stop being afraid. I’ve been through enough, Rafe. And I don’t want to keep living in the shadows, waiting for the next threat to come."

Rafe’s eyes softened, a mix of guilt and understanding crossing his features. He wanted so badly to fix things, to make everything right, but the weight of what you were asking him to do loomed heavy between you both. The past few weeks, the pain, the fear—it was all more than he knew how to handle. But looking at you, standing there, finally free of the fear that had controlled you, he knew what he had to do.

Rafe’s heart hammered in his chest as he processed your words. His mind raced, but the ache in his chest intensified. "What do you want to do, Y/N?" he asked, the rawness in his voice betraying the vulnerability he couldn’t hide.

You didn’t hesitate. Your expression was steady, determined. “I want to leave this place,” you said softly, but with the weight of everything behind it. “I want to go somewhere nobody can find us. Somewhere we can live a normal life, without the constant fear. I can’t take this anymore, Rafe. I need out.”

His breath caught in his throat as you stepped closer. “I want a new life," you continued, your eyes locked on his. "A life where it’s just us, without all the chaos.”

The words hit Rafe like a storm. For a second, he couldn’t find his voice, too overwhelmed by the possibility of a life with you that didn’t have to be defined by the fear and danger that had haunted him for so long.

“You… you really mean that?” he choked out, the doubt evident in his voice. “You want to leave all this behind? For real?”

You nodded. “Yes, Rafe. I’m tired of running, tired of being afraid. I want to build something different. With you.”

Rafe’s chest tightened at the sincerity in your words. He had always known you were strong, but this—this was something different. The weight of what you were asking, what you were willing to risk for the two of you, settled in the pit of his stomach. It was overwhelming, but it also felt like the right kind of overwhelming.

“You’d really leave it all behind? You’d trust me with that?” His voice cracked on the last word, the depth of his feelings for you surfacing in a way he hadn’t expected.

You took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “I trust you, Rafe,” you said, your voice unwavering. “And I’m done with this life. I want more than this. I want a future. With you.”

Rafe stood there for a moment, his mind scrambling to catch up with the magnitude of what you were saying. The idea of a life without his father’s control, without the constant tension, without all the chaos—it was almost too much to comprehend. But the one thing that stood out, clearer than anything, was you. You were standing there, offering him everything.

He stepped forward, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if trying to ground himself in the reality of what was happening. “Then let’s do it,” he said, his voice fierce with determination. “Let’s leave this place behind, together.”

The words hit you like a breath of fresh air, lifting the heaviness that had been suffocating you. You didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to hide behind walls of fear or uncertainty. You could finally see a future, a future with him, far away from the chaos and the danger. Your heart swelled in your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a genuine smile spread across your face.

Rafe noticed it instantly—how your eyes softened, how the sadness and strain seemed to melt away. The corners of your lips curled upward, and without thinking, you stepped into him, closing the space between you. His hand tightened around yours, but before he could say anything, your lips found his.

It was sudden, but it was everything. The kiss was deep, urgent, and filled with the unspoken promises you both had carried in silence. Rafe responded instinctively, pulling you closer, his hand sliding to the small of your back as if to hold you in place, as if he could anchor you to him, keep you safe, keep you close.

In one swift motion, Rafe lifted you off the ground, his arms strong around you, as if he could carry all of your burdens with the ease of holding you in his arms. You let out a soft, surprised laugh as he kicked the door shut behind him, still holding you against him, your lips still locked in a kiss that spoke louder than any words could.

Once he gently set you back on your feet, he didn’t immediately pull away. Instead, he carefully brushed a lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering on your skin. His eyes softened as he looked at you, a mixture of love, relief, and something deeper—something raw that he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

“I’m gonna give you the life you deserve,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up at him, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the conviction in his expression. This was no longer about survival or fear—it was about a future that was finally within reach.

You smiled, your heart full, your gaze unwavering as you met his. “You already are,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath, but it was enough. “Just being here with you... that’s all I ever wanted.”

Rafe’s expression softened further, a slow smile spreading across his face, and in that moment, you saw the man he could be—strong, protective, and driven by love rather than chaos.

"I love you, Y/N." The words hung between you like a promise, deep and unwavering. Rafe's breath caught for just a moment, the weight of what he'd just said settling in. He'd said it before, in fleeting moments, but now, in this moment, it felt different. There was no fear of loss, no uncertainty clouding his mind. It was just the raw truth.

"I love you, too, Rafe," you whispered back, your voice steady and sure. This time, you didn’t have to doubt it. It wasn’t just about the words—it was the way you felt in this moment, with him. Your pulse quickened, not from fear, but from the certainty of what was to come.

He pulled you closer, his arms strong around you as if to keep you tethered to him, to the life you were about to build. His lips brushed over your forehead, and then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze unwavering, filled with all the raw emotion you’d both buried for too long.

With a soft smile, Rafe leaned down to kiss you again, this time more tender, slower, as if savoring the moment, cherishing the bond that had been built through all the chaos and uncertainty. This kiss was a promise—one of protection, of understanding, and above all, of love.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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hoshifighting · 12 hours ago

Note

hellooo I just want to say that I like your blog, I really like your writing style🫶🏻🫶🏻 AND

what do you think about Vernon finding the reader's twitter spam account? at first, without saying anything, he follows her from a fake account and learns her fetishes and things like that. then he can't hold back and teasing the reader because of this situation and does all the things she reposts, all she wants and imagines(I honestly can't decide whether they will be friends or lovers and I leave it to you)

thank you very much in advance🩷🩷🩷🩷

when vernon finds out about your freaky tweets

WARNINGS: smut, face slapping, BIG DICK!VERNON, cock riding, mentions of hair pulling, dirty talk, choking.

it starts innocently enough; you’ve got your little spam account, this place where you post anything that comes to mind without a second thought. it’s private, anonymous—you’re safe, or so you think. until one day, you start noticing a new follower, someone with zero posts and a random handle, lurking in the notifications. you brush it off, figuring it’s just some bot. but vernon… well, vernon's been piecing things together. and one night, after reading one of your latest posts—something so NASTY that practically burned his screen—he decides he can't just pretend he hasn’t seen it. so he waits until you’re in the living room next saturday, all comfortable, maybe a little too comfortable. you look up, seeing him standing there with that little frown he gets when he's too stressed to understand something, a raised eyebrow, and his phone in his hand.

“so… ‘i just want him to hold me down and—’” he reads aloud, and you feel everything in you freeze up as he raises an eyebrow at you. “‘then pull my hair back so i can see his face… maybe, idk, slap me around a little?’ really, y/n?”

you scramble, trying to play it cool “vernon—wait, why—where’d you see that?”

“oh, i dunno. i’ve been following this account for a while. figured i’d wait until you posted something really crazy before bringing it up.”

you stammer, face going hot. “i—you didn’t have to read it out loud like that, jesus.”

“oh, come on,” he says, leaning in, crowding your space just enough to make you feel cornered “you can post it, but i can’t say it?”

you swallow hard “i didn’t… i didn’t think you’d see it.”

“didn’t think i’d find out?” he echoes, voice dropping a little. “you know, all this time, i’ve been seeing these little things you like. i didn’t say anything because i thought you’d be embarrassed. but now…” he smirks, leaning back with a sigh, watching you. “now i think maybe i should give you some of what you’re so clearly craving.”

“vernon,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard when he’s looking at you like he’s imagining every filthy thing you’ve ever posted.

he smirks, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “oh, don’t go all shy on me now. i’ve read what you want. all of it. let’s start with the basics, huh?” his hand trails down, tipping your chin up, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “you wanna ride me? why didn’t you just say so?”

you feel your heart pounding as he pulls you closer, he's practically purring as he goes, “or that other thing you posted—what was it? something about choking you?” he wraps his hand lightly around your throat, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin as he watches your reaction. “like this?”

you almost cant nod, you're melting, your breath coming short as he tightens his grip just enough to make you feel it “so pretty when you’re horny,” he murmurs, fingers pressing just a little more.

and when you shake your head, he grins, pulling you onto his lap, guiding you to straddle him as his hands settle on your hips “guess i’ve gotta make up for all those little fantasies you’ve been hiding, huh?”

“you sure you can handle it?” he whispers, leaning in, lips brushing against your neck. “’cause i don’t think you really knew what you were asking for when you posted all that.”

but you nod, he tilts your head up, lips brushing over yours, and you feel his hand come up, palm grazing over your cheek before he slaps you—just a little, just enough to make you gasp. he chuckles when you moan, liquefying on his lap, fingers tilting your face back to him.

[...]

he’s already watching you with a azy smirk, eyes rolling sliighty as you sink down onto him, your thighs trembling as you struggle to take all of him in. and god, he’s big. you knew he would be—you’d guessed it a dozen times in all those reckless tweets, wondering just how good it’d feel, but feeling it now, it’s like all that teasing turned on you, stretching you almost too much, and every inch you take feels like a challenge.

“aww, look at you,” he coos, his hands resting on your hips, fingers rubbing little circles into your skin as you try to ease down, taking him deeper, even though it’s making your breath catch, making you whimper and shake. “what happened, baby? i thought you said you could handle it.”

you bite your lip, cheeks burning, and he chuckles, leaning in closer, voice low and teasing. “or maybe you just wanted me to be big so you could talk all that shit on your little account,” he murmurs, running his thumb over your lip. “all those tweets you made, talking about wanting me to be, what—eight, nine inches?” he grins, watching the way you flush, the way your hands grip his shoulders to steady yourself. “think you got what you wished for, hm?”

“shut up,” you manage to whisper, but it’s so breathless, your body clenching around him, and he laughs, hands guiding you down just a bit further, his hips lifting just a little to meet you, that makes you gasp, makes you try to pull back, but he keeps you there, fingers firm on your hips.

“no, no, let’s see you take it,” he whispers, voice rough with that soft teasing. “come on, baby. don’t tell me this is too much. you wanted all of it, right?”

you nod, trying to adjust, but it’s almost too much fr, too thick, too deep, and he watches you with those hooded eyes, savoring every single whimper you make. “it’s okay,” he says softly, almost soothing as he leans up to kiss you, but you can hear that cocky lilt in his tone. “you’re doing so good. even if you can’t take all of it… god, you’re trying, huh?”

and he’s right there, brushing his lips over your cheek, murmuring sweet, filthy encouragements into your ear as you sink down a little more, taking just a bit more of him, even though your body’s practically begging for a break. “that’s it… there you go. so good, baby. i’m impressed,” he purrs, hands trailing up your back. “i didn’t think you’d take even this much.”

every time you pause, every time your breath catches, he’s right there, fingers digging into your hips, guiding you, helping you ride him “guess you really wanted to know..” he murmurs, grinning as he watches you struggle, your head falling back as you finally take just a little more, his hands pulling you down hard against him until you can feel every inch of him.

“there it is… that’s my girl,” he whispers, in asatisfied rasp, his eyes dark as he watches you ride him, just as you’d dreamed about, exactly as you’d hoped—only now it’s even better.

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sozila · 3 days ago

Text

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni.

wc: 9.3k

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: prodromal. (part four)

a/n:

hiii lovelies <3 i wanna start out with an apology because this was much, much later than i wanted to post :( i am so sorry! i really appreciate all the love and can't wait to reply all the comments on ao3 and tumblr :,) you guys are amazing and keep my passion for writing going. anyways, word count is 9.3k !!! record highs breaking every chapter haha <3 i hope you all find this enjoyable after a long dry spell :) and as always, credit to my beta reader @beeh-ive ily bih

ao3 link here.

prodromal. (part four)

sukuna had discovered three key truths when he drove back home after yuuji kicked him out of his apartment.

yuuji was right about sukuna. it was annoying to admit that his baby brother was right about anything, let alone something so fundamental to his character. it was easier to bark out orders and shelter him from the world. to not hear him be a mature person with complicated thoughts and his own perceptions— especially the ones about sukuna. deep down he knew he couldn’t keep yuuji unaware forever. he couldn’t deny that the events of their childhood scattered his soul, which he has since collected and duct taped together over the years. he knew he was a shitty person. better than anyone else. in the late hours of night he was kept up by the memories of their childhood, ones he couldn't burden yuuji or guilt their grandfather with. it was his to keep and bury within that duct taped soul. he had made peace with it, he thought.

he could respect yuuji’s wishes (withholding some information). messing with you was just an excuse to spend more time in your presence. if that wasn’t possible, he’d find ways around it. a small voice deep down was adamant to say attached to you, everyone be damned.

he had seen you that day walk into the coffee shop in that gorgeous outfit, skirt swishing with every move of your hips, completely captivating him. moreover, he witnessed how you spoke with suguru and it made something tick inside. he’s never gotten jealous of his best friends, not until this very moment. who was he, that you smiled so big for him? hold on, why the fuck was suguru touching your hair?

he pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it aggressively, smoke engulfing the sight before him. suguru was a friendly guy, he was often surrounded with women due to this fact. sukuna was well aware of it; and honestly didn’t care until he was witnessing before his eyes you becoming a part of that equation.

friend or not, he wanted to barge in there and yank you away from his selfish, dirty and unwelcome hands. motherfucker.

while his angry thoughts were steaming, sukuna didn’t realize suguru had left and was already making his way towards him at the bricks. sukuna’s eyes focused back and found the man towering over him, a question mark painted on his face. “thinking about something?”

sukuna flicked the ash gathering on his cigarette off of it and inhaled another puff. an exhale. “i’m gonna get a drink really quick.” he couldn’t look at suguru’s face without the urge to pound him into the ground, the scene of his fingers touching your hair on loop again and again in his mind. so, he pushes off the wall, crushing his cigarette with his boot, and makes his own way into the tacky coffee shop. he hated the sugary nature of the place, it was so suffocating. satoru loved coming around to buy sweets, but sukuna never let the man sit and stay at a table if he was dragged into accompanying the white-haired idiot. the girl at the register looked mildly nervous when he stalked inside, which was a common reaction he got given his tattoos and looming figure. sukuna’s eyes drifted to the display of pastries and bread, scanning. he recalled you eating chocolates during your study hangouts with yuuji, the goddamn wrappers always littered on the table. he decided the little chocolate pillow-looking thing (he refused to pronounce whatever the fuck a pain au chocolat is) would suffice, his eyes flitting to the sight of you getting verbally abused by your loud friend. “um.. what can i get you, sir?” the small voice of the attendant brought him back to the front. he nodded, pulling out his wallet. “that chocolate square shit.” she hummed in acknowledgement, and began getting the tong to pack it away. sukuna stopped her. “er.. actually, i’m buying this for someone. you see that girl over there? with the green ribbons?” she looked at him with wide eyes, then found you. she nodded slowly. “that’s my girl. give it to her for me?” “o-oh! how sweet.. will do, sir! anything else for you, then?” he shakes his head. sukuna leaves, paying for your little treat. and now, he waits. suguru looked at sukuna and noticed his empty hands, even more confused than before.

“didn’t you say you were getting a drink?”

“changed my fuckin’ mind.”

he pulled another cigarette out to light and his friend sucked his teeth in response. “you really need to find another vice. nicotine is total shit, man. ‘s why i started weed instead, y’know–”

“suguru, please shut the fuck up.”

suguru’s mouth pops in mild shock, but he obliges. he knew well it wasn’t worth picking a fight with sukuna when his mood was sour, he learned that by watching satoru try sukuna’s patience on the daily. his eyes trail your figure making your way to the register and the scene unfolds exactly like he asked. he chuckled as you started looking around exasperatedly, finally meeting his eyes. he gave you a little wave. you ignore him, the treatment he’s been getting for a while now. in due time, sukuna thought. in due time he would chip at your resolve, little by little, until your walls completely broke down. discreetly and respectfully, of course.

because above all, yuuji didn’t have to know about his attempts. sukuna didn’t intend to lie, per say.. he just decided he could have his cake and eat it too. said cake being you.

and so this brings us to the final and most universal truth:

3. he needed you in the rawest form possible. the realization was natural. when you had asked him that night upstairs, he was caught up in words because he didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing– it was delicate. but he needed you. sukuna didn’t know how to describe why in words either.. he was studying engineering, you think he was killing it in english literature? he just knew the feeling you gave him, the one that ignited a fire in his chest and a desire to orbit your sun. he had decided he wasn’t going to let you put him on the sidelines anymore; developing the fake half-way point to pursuing you in silence.

your internship was much more simple than you expected. while your interest in professor kaito’s research was high and got your foot in the door, the actual work was rather lackluster. you spent maybe three hours at your desk organizing files and sending simple emails, but other than that? you were just passing time.

you had met her other student assistants a couple days into it, also in your graduation year. a mild mannered blonde man named kento and his super-positive friend, haibara. you thought kento outright hated you in the beginning, but quickly understood he was just another overworked college student. poor guy.

it really helped having something to take your mind off of sukuna’s futile attempts at catching your attention that had begun a month ago.

oh, how he was irking you.

the bakery freebie was the first of many unnecessary gestures sukuna had done. he had made it a habit to buy you food and have it reach you in the weirdest ways. just last week, he had hit a new low by having a doordash guy somehow get you energy drinks and candies in the middle of a lecture. a note was attached that read, ‘don’t fall asleep, pretty. -s’. you were embarrassed, but thankfully the professor didn’t notice. you also took it up to apologize profusely to the doordash guy for having to fulfill such a weird request— you had handed him a crumpled up five dollar bill from your backpack because you felt so bad. your lunch got paid for randomly, your backpack had tiny presents waiting for you when you opened it, the list was endless. you were not only irritated but also mildly spooked that sukuna was able to evade your presence and manage these stunts simultaneously. he was like a romantic batman. ew, what? no. that doesn’t even make sense.

you were walking up to your apartment door late one night to see a deep red bag with black tulle stuffed into it sitting in front of it. you knew there was nobody else that would leave a gift like this in front of your door, and so you begrudgingly took it inside. it was rather heavy, which made you curious as to what exactly sukuna got you this time.

as you put it on your tiny kitchen table, pulling tulle away from the bag, you spot the gold-embossed box. it was a really expensive brand you had heard of but never dared to think about buying from. you could hear your parents’ voices echoing in your head about being fiscally responsible, eliciting a shiver. carefully breaking the seal, you lift the lid to see the most gorgeous pair of maroon high-heeled mary janes. and once more, a note stuck to the tissue wrappings:

‘for my red ruby girl. -s’

your first emotion couldn’t be anger when the gift was so thoughtful like this. you giddily squeal and try them on— a perfect fit. but how? sukuna never asked for your size.. and you doubt yuuji would tell him without ruining the surprise for you. he’s so weird for that, you thought.

you walk to your floor length mirror in your bedroom and stare at the shoes, thinking.

he pays attention to what you like.

this was a stupid realization; he’d been getting you snacks and miscellaneous tidbits that were undoubtedly your favorites for a while. but it hits you nonetheless, your cheeks’ blush growing. you slowly sit on the ground, knees to your chest. what the fuck. you dig your fingers into the shaggy carpet, pressing down hard. you were hoping the hurty-happy ache in your fingers would go away, the one you get when you feel deeply emotional. the attempts he had made were like little vines growing over your heart, ones you had ignored for far too long and now they squeeze you tightly as if to say, “i’m literally never fucking leaving bitch!”

you jolt when your doorbell rings. a melodic knock follows. “open up, buttercup! i’m hereeeee,” nobara voice was muffled by the door but recognizable enough. you leap to your feet, nearly tripping on your way to throwing the door open.

nobara takes one suspicious look at your shabbily-hidden nervousness and calls your bluff. “were you watching R-rated shit? because if so i can totally leave, no problem.” your voice squeaks in an ungodly high pitch, spluttering gibberish before you manage an “oh my god no, what the fuck!” she cackles at your reaction and slaps a hand on your shoulder, moving to enter the flat. “you’re so easy to mess with babe, i worry for you at times! really. i do.”

her eyes catch the shiny box that lay open on the table. “is that xtique? they’re mad expensive, girl! you actually bought something from there?” “no!” you quickly burst, making nobara jump at the sudden denial. “i mean, no, it was a gift from my… father! for the internship.” you point to your feet and she gives an impressed hum. “they’re super sexy-looking. your dad has good taste.. weirdly enough.” you didn’t really know what to say to that without it seeming weird or ruining your last-minute lie, so you just chuckle and nod.

you like chocolate, especially when it’s melty or gooey in something. you hate tomatoes. which is odd, because you’re okay with ketchup and marinara sauce, but anything with a tomato that the eye can see you don’t touch. you drink a lot of coffee after lectures. you love little cute trinkets, but don’t have that many.

sukuna was learning about you; and applying the information as soon as he did. granted, you looked positively enraged every time you saw his notes. he also saw your face turn red, so he has to be doing something right. the way your lips quirk for a moment before the eventual frown and looking around for him was pretty adorable. whatever it was, sukuna’s plan was in motion and working as he wanted. the lengths he went for you were unheard of for the usual suitor, but sukuna was a crafty guy (when he wants to be). he tipped off the doordash guy that snuck into your lecture hall an extra twenty dollars in cash to be quiet and unnoticed by the professor. he somehow made friends with the girl at the coffee shop— said her name was christy? kristen? fuck if he knew, to be honest. he really just kept familiar with her so he could have her deliver pastries and coffee from him.

“this bast– RYOMEN! the fuckin’ oil!” sukuna snaps out of his train of thought to see he was still at work, not in his daydreams. he never got into his thoughts like this, what…? whatever. it was about you, so he didn’t feel as bad. he cursed when he saw the oil pan was slightly away from under the plug, letting the oil spill all over the deck. “i swear to god ryo, you better clean that shit up before you clock out,” choso chided. his cousin-slash-coworker genuinely never caught a break with sukuna and his antics. one of the downsides of working at the shop the family owned, he assumed. but truly, choso was getting gray hairs from the amount of stress that man gave him. sukuna simply waved him off, discarding his rag that was now soaked in old oil. checking his watch, he realized he is close to his clock out time. in five minutes, he messily cleaned up the deck and made his exit, clicking his helmet on and driving out. at a stoplight, sukuna hears some giggling from the car next to him. he pans to see four girls with their windows down, now squealing because sukuna noticed them. one had her phone up, recording him? while another gestures as if asking for his phone number. sukuna scoffs out of irritation. really? he throws up his left hand which was gloved and gestures to his ring finger. they go silent and roll up their windows, embarrassed. a little lie to get them off his case was harmless, he didn’t care either way. technically, it was true he was “promised” to someone, that being you. eventually, he declares in his head. eventually. his head swivels to look at the buildings beside him instead of the cars while he waits for the light to flip. his eyes catch on shiny, ruby shoes in a display of a boutique-looking store. they looked awfully like the ones he saw at your apartment, and at the door the times you stayed over at yuuji’s. sukuna decides to detour and turns into the parking lot for the fancy shop.

when he walks in he notes it’s rather small, his large frame mildly cramping the area. it was silent and empty, save for the soft jazz playing overhead. a small but peppy old woman bustles out of the back, heels clacking. she was wearing a fancy two piece suit in some kind of purple(it’s periwinkle, but would sukuna really know that?)

she was about to greet him out of habit when a small “good heavens!” leaves her mouth, in sight of her new customer. she apologizes profusely for the sudden reaction while chuckling nervously. “you’re not our usual patron, you’ll have to forgive me for my outburst dearie!” she runs a manicured hand through her blowout hair, giving a warm smile to him.

sukuna becomes a bit hyper-aware he was in an oil-stained wife pleaser and slacks, and his usual leather jacket. right. he just grunts and nods, looking around the store. pastel pink and gold adornments littered the walls, the smell of roses infiltrating his nose. all it was missing was you sitting in the middle of it all, honestly. this place was unironically your persona.

he turns to the display, thumb pointed to the shoes he saw. “you got those in stock?” the lady perks up and immediately gets to work, buzzing around the store to grab boxes. “why of course! is this for a mother, sister? girlfriend, maybe?” sukuna simply nods. “girlfriend.” she giggles melodically, opening and closing boxes. “how sweet of you! she must be one special girl,” sukuna imagines you opening the box and wearing the shoes, your giddy excitement in private. he smiles faintly at the thought. “very.”

she finally finds the set of ruby shoes, and asks him for your size. he replies nearly instantly. he had seen your shoes so many times, the size was always written on the sole. so maybe he had it memorized, no big deal. numbers came easy to him anyways, he dealt with many of them in his studies and job. and maybe he had a section in his notes app for you.

the old lady quickly wrapped up the shoes and stuffed black paper in the bag to hide the box. sukuna quickly pays, giving her a deep grumble of a thank you. she just smiles and waves him off. “i hope your girlfriend loves them!” as he leaves the shop she sighs with a bittersweet expression on her lips. she misses young love.

as sukuna leaves the shiny boutique, he looks at the bag in his hand. was he doing too much? he hopes you would like it, and as far as he knows, you don’t own a pair of these in the red he picked. maybe it was selfish thinking that you would enjoy that same red hue you saw in his eyes, especially after that comment that lived in his subconscious.

your eyes are sanguine red.

he grins to himself, walking a little faster to his bike.

nobara had stayed around for a couple of hours before she called it a night, saying something about how stupid she has to study for her exams when she’s a liberal arts student. you just chuckle and turn her loose. “you’re always welcome to ask me for help," you chide her. she scoffs and pushes you playfully. “no way. you’re like up to your ears in stuff, i couldn’t burden you. and anyways, you’re already helping yuuji and his two brain cells.” she waves you goodbye, and you head back up to your apartment once you see her get into her uber.

you’re about to flop on your tiny couch when your phone rings. you groan internally when you see the caller id.

“hello, father.”

“you need to come home this weekend.”

you frown. “i’m sorry?”

“did you not hear me? you need to come home this weekend and help your brother with his entrance exams.”

you’re in mild shock for a moment, making you go silent. surely he doesn’t think you have time to spend an entire weekend at home. you had so many things to juggle as it was, and your weekend was kind of your safe time. if something bled over from the week, you’d do it then, or hell, sometimes you just wanted to sit and watch a show or two.

“..father, i’m not exactly free—“

“you’re lying. i know how many credit hours you’re doing and that internship of yours is the only extra activity in your time. seriously, when will you grow up? you have so many more duties to fulfill and you’re trying to get out of the simplest one.”

you had such a difficult time reasoning with your father and it’s been this way since your childhood. he never saw what you wanted or what you accomplished. it was always “how can she benefit the family?” you let out a deep sigh. there was no getting out of this, you accept.

“i’m sorry, father. i’ll be home on the weekend.”

“good. your mother keeps asking about your health so don’t eat any rubbish.”

you make a noise of agreement, but mentally you’re rearranging your tasks for the upcoming week to allocate time for the impromptu trip. he hangs up the phone without a goodbye, as usual. the dread you felt for the first eighteen years of your life settles back into your chest like an unwelcome old friend. you sink to the couch, rubbing your chest to ease the pain. you’re looking at the setting sun seeping in from the window, the light disappearing feeling awfully similar to your emotions right now.

it’ll be just another thing you’ll brave through, you suppose.

kento is washing beakers in the back of the lab room, but you know you felt his eyes on the back of your head. “yes, kento?” you say without turning around. he clears his throat to cover up the cough he let out of surprise. he did not think you would’ve noticed. “you just seem a little downtrodden today, is all.” you let out a sad laugh and walk over to help him dry the beakers. “well, you aren’t wrong, i guess,” you say absentmindedly. you woke up today with the same dread you felt earlier this week, which you had felt every day since the call until today— friday. the gloomy, rainy day didn’t help your mood either.

“anything i can do to help, maybe?” you smile at your monotonous friend. you learned he was quite caring, but had a hard time mirroring it in his tone of voice. “actually, yeah. do you think you could cover the last hour for me? i’m going home for the weekend.” he nods, putting the last clean beaker in the crate. “no worries. i hope you enjoy your time at home.” you draw a heavy sigh. “i’ll try,” you manage with a deflected grin.

you wave kento goodbye when you’re walking out the door of the lab, heaving your bags along with you. the rain hadn’t stopped by the time you were walking to your car, so you had to run to avoid drenching everything you had and yourself.

the drive home was mostly silent, save for your playlist playing softly in the background of the car. the rain slows to a stop when you turn into your neighborhood, which makes you slightly annoyed. couldn’t it have stopped for you when you were getting a cold shower on the way to the car? once you pull up to your apartment complex, you notice something that immediately draws a groan from your lips.

before you is a sleek black bike, and leaning on it was none other than the object of your irritation. his helmet sat on his seat and his pink hair was moussed by the rain, making it a more deep pink shade. his stupid grin churned your insides. turning the key off in the ignition, you step out of your car, walking towards him.

you notice his fingers drumming on his seat. he seemed happy to see you? “forgot your umbrella?” he gestures to your head, and your face goes red. your hair was a little out of the ordinary after running through the rain. “shut the fuck up.” you quip dismissively, comb your fingers through your hair to try and fix it– but the moisture had already had its way with you. you give up with a huff.

your eyes narrow at him. “are you stalking me?” you roll your eyes and cross your arms, clearly not in the mood to deal with sukuna’s games today. he protests with his hands up. “i’m no fuckin’ stalker, sweetheart. just came to drop off your jacket. yuuji said you left it at his place the other day.” you don’t remember leaving anything at yuuji’s, but lo and behold, sukuna takes a jacket out of his seat compartment that looks awfully like one of yours. you stiffly accept it and look away.

“you free tonight?” your head snaps to meet his eyes and that stupid smirk shone back at you. you turn away to walk back to your car. “nope. sorry! i’m leaving right now,” you swiftly call back to him over your shoulder. because of your height difference, he catches up to you in three strides.

he grabs your wrist, halting you before you reach the driver’s door handle. “hey, what’s the rush? you literally got back home,” he was right. you did have things to get from your apartment, but you were more annoyed with his ambush that you simply wanted to drive home to get away.

“can’t you see i’m busy?” sukuna gives you a furrowed expression. “with what?” his gruff tonality replaces the playful one he had before.

you were literally at your breaking point, couldn’t he bother you another day? you yank your hand away from his grip. you give him an icy glare, unwilling to answer him. he takes your pause to maneuver around you and stand in front of the door, blocking you from entering the car. his sharp eyes zeroed in on the tension you’re trying so hard to hide.

“what’s your problem?” he asks sternly, his voice pressing against you. you clench your jaw, refusing to speak up. you hope he’ll just let it go.

but he doesn’t.

he’s still watching you, studying the ticks of your expression, searching.

“come on,” he pushes, his voice quieter but unrelenting. “what’s really going on with you?”

why the fuck was sukuna always around you when you were doing horrible? it was so damn irritating. you take a breath, more shaky than you wanted to show him.

he didn’t miss it.

you’re fighting back the anxiety and frustration that’s about to spill tears.

“i’m.. it’s nothing, i just need to go home,” your stomach is turning knots. you hate the face he’s giving you. it’s digging at you, and sukuna isn’t one to back away from confrontation.

his gaze sharpens, his eyes flickering with something you can’t read. “you mean your family home? like with your dad?”

he only heard one phone call with your father, for fuck’s sake. you almost felt angry he thought he knew exactly what was going on. your heartbeat was in your ears at this point. “what’s so urgent that you’re fuckin’ running away all stressed?”

your fists tighten at your sides, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. you felt like the muddy asphalt was swallowing you. you didn’t realize you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek. the words followed behind like a tsunami.

“you think i want to go home?! i get told something and he just expects me to do it with no questions! i don’t even.. i don’t even have time to do this, but he—”

your voice gets caught in a muffle. sukuna had wrapped you in his leather-clad arms, your face smushed in his chest. he smelled like smoke and gasoline, which was weirdly comforting.

“just.. cry it out.” he mutters.

his hand is stroking your hair softly, like you were a small child to be consoled. you didn’t care to protest his sudden actions. your fists grip his tank top as you sobbed into him. you don’t know how long you both stood like this, but you could’ve sworn at one point that he was shushing you like a baby, which was again— weirdly comforting.

when you tilt your head up, eyes red and puffy, sukuna slips a chuckle. you slap his chest, offended.

“your first reaction is to laugh at my misery, asshole?”

“your eyes are swollen, sweetheart.”

you curse and press the cold backside of your hands under your eyes, hoping to reduce the inflammation. you’re both in silence for a couple of moments, him just watching you while you pretended to not notice the holes he was burning into your head.

he finally spoke up with a hand tapping your cheek. “c’mon, let’s go somewhere.”

you give him a gaping shocked face. ‘i’m sorry, did you not just see me have a breakdown about needing to go home?”

he rolls his eyes as if you were acting immature. god, now you know how yuuji must’ve felt growing up. sukuna was definitely as sassy as he was now. “that’s exactly why i’m saying that, idiot. you can go home first thing tomorrow morning.”

you open your mouth to argue again, but the looming dread you had of facing your father tonight still makes your stomach sink. a night to take your mind off of the stress you’ve been bottling for days.. yeah, that sounds like exactly what you need. you hesitate, glancing up at sukuna’s face, searching for any hint of pity, but all you see is that stubborn determination he had.

“fine,” you murmur, wiping your hands on your jeans. “but if this is some dumb excuse to make me do whatever you want…” he gives you a sly smirk, visibly amused again. “when have i ever needed an excuse for that?” you smack him again while he walks you over to his bike.

he grabs the helmet from his bike and hands it to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “just one night, sweetheart. then you can go back and deal with… everything else.”

you take the helmet and sigh, feeling the dread slowly lift from your chest as you click it on your head. after he climbs on the bike, he stretches a hand out to help you on which you take gratefully. he glances back at you with a soft smile you hadn’t seen since that night you bandaged his hands.

he feels like a lifeline right now, albeit you didn’t want to admit that. you just needed an escape.

you nearly scream when sukuna pulls into the “small spot” he said he knew.

it was a traditional kaiseki house, one that screamed rich and elite. you were wearing casual clothes and your makeup had pretty much melted away after your cry session (you noticed that your mascara had also bled onto sukuna’s white tank top, so you scolded him until he zipped up his leather jacket with a grumble.)

“you should’ve fucking told me we were going to a nice place, i could’ve gotten ready or something!” sukuna looked practically oblivious. “why?” he deadpans. you fight the urge to facepalm yourself and settle for an eye twitch. “sukuna, look at me.” you gesture to your face and clothes. he’s seriously aloof, giving you a monotone stare. “yeah, i’m looking. you look pretty, why?” oh. there’s nothing you can find to say to that because you genuinely didn’t see an ounce of deceit in his expression. he genuinely believed in what he said, it seems. you process the fact he called you pretty once you’re off the bike, which makes you a little bashful.

regardless, you tried to prim yourself before you stepped inside; praying no one paid attention to you and your unlikely date. that was obviously wishful thinking considering how big of a powerhouse sukuna looked inside the small joint, which made you curse him out mentally. does he eat entire horses? however, the server looked at sukuna with respect you didn’t expect, and sukuna talked to him with ease. you couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes; he was acting like a socialite with insanely proper manners.

the server led you both to a private dining room, bowing as he closed the door behind you. you unbuckle the ruby shoes you were wearing, ironically the shoes sukuna had gifted you the week before. you hope he didn’t notice.

sukuna takes the seat opposite you, sitting rather poised and formal. you giggle at him, breaking the royal silence you were in. he frowns at you, miffed.

“what?”

“you’re like, trust fund boy sukuna right now. you look so serious i thought it was funny,” you explain.

he grumbles and crosses his arms. “my grandfather… is big on etiquette.” he manages.

you expect him to iterate further. “…aaaand?” you had sat down, resting your head on your hands, batting your lashes mockingly.

his frown deepens at your antics. “grandpa owns a lot of businesses, so when me and yuu were young... he made us come to formal dinners. parties and shit. if we acted like fuckin’ animals, we’d get our asses beat.” you giggle at the thought of little sukuna causing a ruckus.

“i bet you were a handful.” you tease.

“more like yuu was. unmedicated adhd in a boy is hell.” you agree with a nod. you felt kind of warm inside knowing something new about sukuna. yuuji had told you in the past that they were well-endowed, but these details were cute and… endearing to you.

“you like them?” you snap out of your thoughts to see sukuna gesturing to your gifted shoes, sitting by the door next to his boots. a small blush dusts your cheeks. “it’s just a fluke… i was rushing this morning and they were the first pair i saw,” your excuse was perpetually lame.

he nods slowly, amused. “…right, of course.” he lays sarcastically.

you were about to say something else awkward when the door slid open, bringing the first course along with a round of sake. you both say your respects to the food before digging in politely. the food definitely tasted as expensive as it looked.

you realize you’ve actually never had a meal with sukuna before. you take note of how proper he eats, which was kind of a surprise for you (again). you guess you could believe him now when he said yuu was worse off than him— that boy definitely ate like a man starved.

when you finish your last piece, you take a sip of the sake the server had poured out for you. it was much smoother and sweeter than the ones you’ve had. honestly, a little worrying considering how much of a lightweight you were. you decide that’s a dangerous game and settle with nursing the small glass you had.

“how’s college been, then?” this fucking… you didn’t expect sukuna to do small talk, but here you were. “um, it’s good. a little tedious lately, but i guess i can’t complain,” you chuckle softly. “that kid kento’s in your internship, yeah?” the way he just knew random things adjacent to you was a little scary. “yeah, how do you know that?” “he’s a family friend.” thank god. you were beginning to think sukuna had a private investigator on you or something. “o-oh, how interesting. so you’ve known him for a while?” “his father has been partners with my grandpa since we were young, so yeah.” you simply nod in acknowledgment, unsure of how to continue. this was awkward territory to speak so casually and non-hostile with the man before you.

“you look like you’re being tortured to speak to me right now.”

you snap to sit more straight and less avoidant, feeling embarrassed he clocked your temperament. “sorry, i’ve not exactly had any real conversations with you,” he looks unphased. “you’re too busy trying to fight me for that.” you give him a frown. “well you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, asshole.” he simply chuckles and takes another sip of sake. he manages to look elegant despite the fact he’s dressed like a thug. “you’re easy to rile up, sweetheart.”

you look at him incredulously. “you’ve got to be a sadist or something,” you exclaim with a small scoff. he hums. “not the word i’d use, but if it’s easier for you… sure, i’m a sadist for you.” “for me?” “i don’t mess with anyone else, if you’ve noticed.” you’re mildly confused, given that you know his track record, but you digress. you give him an unimpressed look.

“…right.”

he gives you a look back. “fuck you mean by that?”

“oh c’mon, just because i met you recently doesn’t mean i didn’t know of you before that.”

his weird look deepens. “oh? and what did you know of me, sweetheart?” he’s absolutely egging you on, but not in a way that’s teasing. he truly wants to understand what preconceived notions you have of him, almost like it was making him upset.

“i mean… you’re a frat boy, sukuna. you get girls. you party. that earns a reputation, at minimum.”

he looked a little hurt by your words, but he doesn’t let it stay long enough for you to notice. “tell me this, sweetheart. are you an introvert that only studies all day?” you stiffen. “…no, i’m not an introvert. and i like doing other things too,” “you liked it when i passed judgment on you being nothing but a booksmart nerd the first day i met you?” you shake your head slowly. “then you’re beating your fuckin’ stereotype. just like how i’m not the fuckin’ stereotype others say about me. understood?”

you start to feel bad that you threw the same callous mindset he’s probably faced before, which was super out of character for you. you were an open minded and intuitive person. “i’m sorry, sukuna. i guess i’m just… having trouble understanding some things.”

he raises an eyebrow. “like what?”

“…well,” you take a sip of your sake to give yourself time to recollect. “i guess i want to know why you’ve been gifting me so much these last few weeks.”

he visibly lightens up, slipping back into his playful demeanor. he purposefully takes a comically long sip of sake, causing you to laugh and smack him across the table, chiding him. “oh my god, stop! you suck, really,”

he glances at you from the side of his eyes. “i just wanted to.”

you look into his eyes, searching his gaze. a small smirk plays on your lips. a jolt of confidence hits you as you lean over the table on your elbows. “you got a crush on me, itadori?”

he matches your energy tenfold, leaning towards you in tandem. you’re almost nose to nose. “inconclusive, sweetheart.”

you sit back down with a small blush. “you’re not getting compensated for them, by the way.”

he snorts, a deep chuckle following. “i never expected you to. they’re gifts, sweetheart. and i sure as hell know that little internship of yours pays in pennies.”

you give him a withering look of irritation. “i get paid in experience, sukuna.” “that’s straight bullshit they tell you, you know that? you realize i graduate this year? already seen the way internships pan out,” true. “potayto potahto, dude.”

his brows upturn out of amusement. you opt to change the subject from you.

“you’re a mechanical engineering major, right?” you ask, tilting your head curiously. he just nods, his face giving nothing away. “how’s that, then? fun?”

he fixes you with a dry, almost exasperated stare. his eyes narrow slightly, eyebrows upturned just enough to convey that he’s calling your bluff. “is that a real question,” he drawls, “or are you seriously asking me about my major?”

you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to sock him in the shoulder. instead, you force yourself to keep smiling. “you nearly made me want to explode with your small talk, so just answer the damn question.”

a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he snorts. “if i told you i find this fun, there’s probably somethin’ wrong with me.”

you roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “there’s definitely a lot wrong with you, but whatever.”

he raises a brow, leaning in just a bit too close for comfort. “hm? say that louder for me, sweetheart?”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks as your lips slip into an involuntary pout. you hate how you can’t control your expressions around him—it’s like your face has a mind of its own. you avert your gaze and take a long sip of your drink, feigning nonchalance. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, the sake warming you from the inside out as you mimicked his usual unbothered attitude.

without warning, he stretches out his hand and flicks you on the forehead, a light but annoyingly precise tap. “idiot.” he mutters, sounding amused.

you groan, rubbing the spot where he flicked you. “when will you stop calling me that?” you whine, exasperated.

his laugh is low and unapologetic and his eyes twinkling with something irritatingly fond. “when you stop doin’ stupid shit. cute, stupid shit.”

somehow that pulls a genuine laugh out of you. you catch yourself mid-giggle, feeling suddenly self-conscious as sukuna’s gaze softens, just barely, his lips twitching into a smile. he’s watching you with this odd.. elated expression, like he’s seeing something new in you. you quickly clear your throat and try to regain composure, but the grin on your face lingers.

“what?” you ask, embarrassed, still smiling despite yourself.

he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but the faint trace of a smile remains. “nothing. just didn’t think i’d ever hear you laugh like that.”

a warm blush creeps up your neck, and you look down, fidgeting with the chopsticks. “i do laugh, you know,” you murmur, trying to act casual.

for a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze unguarded in a way that makes your heart skip. the silence stretches between you, not tense but charged, like something’s shifting that neither of you can quite name. he tilts his head slightly, studying your face as though he’s trying to memorize every detail.

the rest of your meal with him was filled with this unspoken, almost serene connection that neither of you quite acknowledged, but both felt. the conversation felt more natural and genuine, you couldn’t stop talking it seemed. you found yourself stealing glances at him more often than you meant to, feeling a strange warmth in your chest each time your eyes met. there was an ease to the way you sat together, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this strange little bubble.

not before long, you both had finished your food with much satisfaction. This is definitely one of the best meals you’ve ever had. when the bill comes, you half expect sukuna to pull out a credit card but instead, he glances at the check just a moment before he pays with a bundle of crisp bills from his wallet. god, that was unnecessarily hot.

"let’s go," he says, standing up. he waits for you to put on your shoes before offering his hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you take it, the touch warm and solid. he’s particular about the way he holds your hand– not too tight, not too soft. that makes your heart skip a beat. not to mention your hand is small in comparison to his, but a weirdly perfect match. like a peg sliding into a notch.

as you walk out of the restaurant, you feel the cool night air hit you, a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside. sukuna’s hand still holds yours, his thumb lightly grazing your knuckles as you both make your way to the street.

that’s when you spot it—an unassuming little ice cream stand on the corner, the twinkling of the fairy lights on its canopy making you grin up at him.

you tug on his hand, pulling him toward the stand before he can even say anything. "ice cream." you say with a mischievous smile, not even giving him a chance to protest. "you are legally not allowed to say no."

sukuna gives you a feigned look of annoyance at you but doesn’t pull away. “you’re insatiable,” he tells you, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—just the faintest hint of beguilement. you don’t miss the way his grip on your hand tightens, just a little, when you pull him toward the stand.

the vendor behind the counter greets you both with a toothy smile, and you instantly scan the flavors, your eyes lighting up as you point to one that catches your attention. "i’ll have the matcha," you say, already thinking about how good it’s going to taste.

sukuna gives you a side glance before ordering the most basic thing he could’ve chosen—vanilla. you can’t help but notice the contrast between his choice and yours, and it makes you giggle.

“you and giggling today, i swear,” he teases. you take the cone from the vendor’s hand with a small thank-you, sticking your tongue out at sukuna before giving your cone a lick. sukuna takes his cone shortly after, paying the man.

walking together, hand in hand, the quiet sounds of the city hum around you. it’s almost too perfect, the way he towers beside you, both of you savoring your cones. despite the fall night being cool, soon your ice cream starts to drip and melt faster than you can eat it. you try to keep up but it’s a losing battle as your hands get sticky and little droplets threaten to trail down your fingers.

out of the corner of your eye, you catch sukuna stifling a snort, his shoulders shaking slightly as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a crumpled handful of napkins. he must have grabbed them at the stand, almost as if he anticipated this exact moment.

“somehow i knew you’d end up eating like a messy kid,” he teases, his voice tinged more tender than you’re used to. before you can reply, he steps closer, raising the napkin to your face with a gentle hand, his fingers brushing your cheek as he dabs at the melting ice cream on your lips and chin. his touch is careful and surprisingly soft, as if he’s handling something delicate.

“thank you,” you murmur, the words almost a whisper as you meet his eyes. they’re closer than you expected, and you catch your breath as he holds your gaze, just a fraction too long. you look away, the heat of his hand lingering on your cheek, and take another bite of your cone, trying to steady the flutter in your chest.

when you finish, you make your way back toward his motorcycle parked beneath a flickering streetlight. its chrome metal was gleaming in the muted glow. you lean against the seat as he stands in front of you, hand on the seat space beside where you were situated. this definitely feels like a date now, you thought.

his presence was grounding you in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling. he eats the last bite of his cone before wiping his own hands clean, then tossing the dirty napkins in the bin behind him. “can i ask one more question?” you look at him with a small smile. “sure, sukuna.”

his hand that was now free of the ice cream cone instinctively goes to your other hip, not out of flirtation, but simply closer proximity. you were in the space between his legs, but it wasn’t awkward. it was just intimate.

“why’d your dad ask you to come home?” you let out a small sigh, brushing your hair out of your face to no avail as the wind pushes in your face again. you look a little solemn as you speak. “he wants me to help my brother with entrance exams for secondary school. i’m really just doing the work of a tutor, which i can’t imagine my father couldn’t afford, especially in terms of my brother.. but, i have duties that are unspoken, i guess. that i’m just expected to follow through. my tuition for university is paid by him, so i can’t exactly ghost my family. and my mom is still great with me, so.. i don’t want to lose her too,” you admit.

when you finish you realize sukuna’s been rubbing circles on your side, deep in listening to you. “i know family’s tough,” he replies. “but you need to realize when it’s starting to screw you up. i’m sure if i didn’t come to your place, you’d still be burying yourself under all that fuckin’ expectation and you’d be burnt out by the morning.” you nod, the weight of his words settling in, and for a moment, you’re grateful for the honesty he’s bringing out of you. it’s strange, this feeling of openness with him, like he’s peeling back the layers you keep hidden from most people.

“maybe,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, which are still a bit sticky from the ice cream. “but it’s hard, you know? i feel guilty when i consider putting myself first, like it’s selfish or something.”

you hear sukuna inhale deeply, still focused on you. “selfish? putting yourself first is sometimes the best damn thing you can do. you’ve got one life, sweetheart.” he pauses, the weight of his gaze meeting yours. “if you don’t set those boundaries, no fucker’s gonna do it for you.”

his hand brushes a stray hair off your cheek that had been in your face for a while now, and your heart skips as his thumb lingers there. he leans in just a little, enough that his face is close, his gaze holding yours in a way that makes the rest of the world blur.

you swallow, feeling a warmth rising in your chest, a feeling that’s unfamiliar to you. “thanks. i guess i needed to hear that,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

he tilts his head slightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, though there’s something softer behind his eyes. “anytime, sweetheart.”

without thinking, you shift your hand up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

he raises a brow, an amused but warm expression lighting up his face. “tryin’ to feel me up now?” he chuckles, but his voice is softer than usual.

you laugh, rolling your eyes, but you don’t move your hand. “shut up,” you murmur, your fingers tracing idle circles on his shirt as you both stay there, close and comfortably silent. the connection between you was enough. sukuna’s hand shifts to gently cup the side of your face, tilting you to see him. you really see him. his thumb grazing your cheek, his gaze flickering to your lips and then back to your eyes. you feel like the world has stopped around you two. you feel the subtle pull of his fingers on your skin. your heart beat is pounding out of your chest, and you feel his racing through his jacket too. in that instant, everything feels inevitable.

the harsh honk of a car horn cuts through the air, dragging you out of the moment with a jolt. you blink as the abrupt return to reality makes your breath catch in your throat. you pull away instinctively, breaking the bubble you were in. the realization of what was about to happen makes you nervous and almost scared. suddenly, you felt suffocated again. you shift, fumbling your fingers with your head down.

sukuna stands still, silent. his hand that was almost ready to pull you in rested at his side now. his expression was rather blank, but different about the way he’s watching you. it’s quieter, more reserved, like he's waiting for you to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that’s formed between you. his jaw tightens slightly, just a hint of frustration, but he says nothing. he doesn’t rush to fill the silence. his silence is weighty, deliberate, and you feel the intensity of it even more because of it.

you glance at him quickly, and for a split second, you wonder what’s going through his mind. he doesn’t look at you with expectation but with that unreadable intensity that seems to pierce straight through you. you swallow, breaking the silence first. “sorry,” you manage, the words coming out squeakier than you intended, the awkwardness making you want to jump off a bridge. god, strike me down now or so help me.

“don’t apologize,” he rasps, his voice low, rougher than before. it’s not a demand, more like a quiet statement of fact. “you didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

his words hang in the air, steady and unyielding. it’s not comforting in the traditional sense, but it’s there—uncompromising, like he’s just being real with you. there’s no pushing or attempting to rush things. he’s waiting for you to say what you need to say, or to fall silent again. like whatever you do, he’s not going anywhere.

you instead opt to pivot like you usually do, and turn to get on the bike. you check your phone and give a fake little chuckle. “it’s getting so late, wow! we should head out. yeah?” sukuna realized you were definitely feeling weird about the moment you just had, so he wasn’t going to make it ruin the night you both had enjoyed so far. he only nods. “lemme take you to your place.”

the ride was weirdly quiet, even though you never spoke on the bike anyways. it was too loud over the roar of vehicles on the road. when sukuna turns into your street, you feel a wave of nervous energy pulse through you again.

the bike slows as he pulls up to the curb in front of your building, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. sukuna parks, but doesn’t make a move to dismount right away. he keeps his hands on the handles, his body still. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to move first.

you shift off the motorcycle and walk to his side. you don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess it. sukuna looks like he’s about to say something when you press a soft kiss to his cheek, fleeting and sudden, just enough to catch him off guard. for the first time ever, you saw sukuna blush. before he can say anything, you step back already turning on your heel to run briskly towards the entrance of your building, heart hammering against your ribs.

“goodnight!” you call over your shoulder, your voice filled with the adrenaline rush you were feeling. you don’t wait for him to respond as you push open the door and slip inside quickly. the cool air of the building is a sharp contrast to the warmth that still lingers on your lips. You press your fingers on your lips, feeling your heartbeat even in your fingertips. you seriously don’t know what you were thinking… tonight’s feelings are swirling around you as you make your way up the stairs to your apartment.

sukuna was sitting for five minutes on his bike in front of your apartment, brain flatlining. he was going to kiss you. he was so close to your lips. he thought that chance encounter was the most he was going to get tonight when you decided to do that and have the gall to run away.

he didn’t wash his face that night.

a figure with shoddy blonde hair puts out his cigarette stub on the wall, exhaling the last drag he had. the rooftop was empty, save for his friend. mahito sucks his teeth and throws the bottle of beer he was drinking on the ground, the shatter echoing in the dark night.

“fuck, man! what are we going to do about that motherfucker?” he seethes, face red from his drunken rage.

naoya chuckles at his lack of control. he didn’t seem as pissed about the whole ordeal, especially not as much as mahito. the fraternity wasn’t everything to him. and he knew good things come to those who are patient.

“don’t think about him. we need to focus on the bitch that curved you,” naoya tells him coolly.

mahito nods slowly, raring up with hype. “yeah… yeah! that ugly whore that got me jumped!” naoya just stares out at the buildings below, unbothered.

“she’ll pay, mahito. just wait.”

sooooo :) how was it guys :) as always i live and breathe for comments (and all reactions hehe) so please don't hesitate <3 i try my best to reply to everyone in a timely manner, but please have mercy on me if i don't </3 love you all!

peace luv bathtub!

taglist! @kawliflo @deepcloudspyhairdo @aldebrana @marie-is-in-the-dark @emoedgylord @gojoscumslut

comment to be added to the taglist! will be capped at a certain point! much love <3

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