#i dont think this was supposed to be hot at the time which is the craziest part

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

This is fucking insane

[vanweezer]

the thing is the new logo is bad. it's boring and that's probably its worst crime. however this is okay because if the logo bad and is going to be on merch we can simply not buy the merch. crazy stuff i know. has anyone else thought of this

[chiiyuuvv]

Hey bnd stans, if you're ever reading boynextdoor fanfiction and come across @wonsungno please run away. They've stolen lots of works from another actual author yet they don't see the problem with it?? Idek man this person is veryyyyy delusional.

[enden-k]

im so tired of being a sleepy boy

[liuisi]

no actually im forever salty about we hunt the flame because it got touted as such good representation and then you read it and its just bad. a book written by an arab author does not good representation make!

[icewindandboringhorror]

[doctorwhoisadhd]

also another reason i play picc despite it causing my migraines is because i can use it to win arguments. Like any other instrument you have no right to complain about piccolo being "too high" when i am playing it and it gives ME migraines. like. ok coward. what do u even have to complain about

[fivefeetfangirl]

convention money is crazy. i wish i could make that kind of cash just from taking pics with people and signing my name on shit. lord what misha and jensen made in two days would feed and house me for a decade easy. madness. i bet they got free food all weekend too. fuck my entire life aint worth $250k. i could literally sell everything i own, a kidney and my ass to a dozen dudes and still be 90% short of what misha and jensen made this past weekend.

you and me nonny, you and me 😔

personally im good. i dont need their money. i'll wear my wool sweater and wool socks and keep warm etc etc but it just feels so unrealistic sometimes. like they really do be living such a completely different life than most of their fans. thinking about con prices and such really is crazy. im not gonna come on here and say they should do this and this with their money but i do hope they do feel some resposibility to do something useful with it

[itsalwaysdark]

ok sry last one. sry

[teaboot]

Wait you had autism and still got along with the other kids and knew what was going on with them?? I was never able to do that! I still chose to do my own thing but would have been unable to answer those questions.

I mean I didn't really WANNA make friends for a super long time so it didn't really matter? And if anyone was outright mean I don't think I noticed till like 6th grade.

After 6th a few other kids liked to throw or kick things at my face or steal my art supplies or give me mean nicknames- I remember almost all the boys in my class one year started a thing where if I got within 4 feet of them they'd yell "[tea] GERMS!" and make a dramatic mad-dash escape, and that was kinda hurtful, but IDK how long that was a thing??

Anyhow I started asking them if they had a crush on me or if they were just stupid, and when they asked what I meant I'd just be like "well there's two reasons boys act stupid around girls. Either you have a crush on me, or you're just always this stupid"

And that invariably led to them yelling "I'm stupid, I'm stupid!" or telling me, "I'd rather say I'm stupid than say I like you!"

Which might have been hurtful if I wasn't growing into a mild superiority complex that assured me I was smarter than them, and nicer than them, and there was really no need to desire the approval of stupid, mean people.

(This was, of course, backed up by the fact that my father was one of those mean, stupid sorts of people, and I fully beleived if I could handle him, I could handle anyone my size, and so what if you dont like me? My own dad doesnt like me, am i supposed to value your opinion?)

Then by highschool I got hot, and if one of them started chatting me up I'd just be like "You wrote in my yearbook in 2002 that I was a huge loser. Why would I want to hang out with you"

And by THEN I'd met enough genuinely fun, interesting people who actually liked me that I was never around anyone who openly disliked me anyways.

Not until I started to realize I wasn't 100% a girl and cut my hair off- Then I started hearing other girls whispering to each other that I looked like a lesbian- gasp- which, again, was actually pretty funny, 'cause then I'd just tell them not to get their hopes up 'cause I wasn't available.

Then I graduated, and moved, and it turns out I'm actually kind of hot funny smart and successful, and whenever I fall into the deep deep pit of dumb ugly stupid imposter-syndrome, I remember that as mean as other kids were sometimes, their parents thought I was the best.

So anyways get fucked Gabe from ninth grade, your mom used to give me candy and bail me out of detention. I had the biggest fucking crush on your mom dude

[esotericbluntbaby]

hear me out. . . high sex with hamzah😍.

he’s so hot.

sneak

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: a rough date causes bad decisions to be made. upset, you decided to call your ex, who also so happens to be one of your closest friends, to smoke with you.

mentions: smoking, drug use, angst, smut, happy ending, nsfw!

woahhh first smut fic.. don't worry for those who are getting tired of smut fics! i will continue to balance out of fics with a mixture of sfw and nsfw, with the sfw most likely being angst!

--

the dating scene simply wasn't for you.

sure, you've dated people in the past, though, you knew always that they were supposed to be temporary in your life. you had the mindset of acceptance when it came to temporary and permanent; the concept of allowing things to happen and allowing everything to fall into place as if a higher being would spin a wheel for each and every outcome of your life was common for you to think about.

however, the date you went on made you wonder about how thin the line is between permanence and temporariness is.

you thought the date went well. you both arrived at the purring lady on time; the bar's ambient lighting amplified the romantic tension between you and him. in fact, the night flew past without much awkward silence. you thought you knew him quite well by the end of the date, wishing him a safe ride home and kissing his cheek.

about to text him about a second date, which you urgently hoped for, you realized the texts were green; he had blocked you without a single explanation.

so, you were currently sat in your apartment windowsill eating ice cream and gazing out the window at the city's skyline. the sense of comfort from both your home and the area around you allowed you to heal from the night a bit faster; almost as if the sole action was the tylenol to your dating scene headache.

being honest with yourself, you were hoping to bring him home. you found him attractive, almost as if he was on the cover of some obscure magazine. your date was the kind of person that you'd see once and the sheer image and thought of them would wrap around your head like the bandaid to the loneliness that overtakes you. you wouldn't mind being touched by him. however, he's gone now, so the bandaid was ripped off.

scrolling through your text messages, you realize hamzah texted you. the relationship that you and hamzah had used to be romantic. in fact, he was one of the people who taught you that some people are permanent; though you aren't together anymore, you still remained close. you would be lying if you said you didn't really feel anything for him anymore. no matter what, you think you'd always be a simple text or phone call away from him. no matter what, you think you'll always have some level of feeling towards him. though, some resentment will always be there; he was still the reason you tried to find love in dating apps instead of that whole friends-to-lovers deal.

hamzah

10:43 pm | yo

10:43 pm | how'd it go?

you

11:24 pm | ehhh

11:25 pm | i thought it went well

11:24 pm | i guess he didn't bc im blocked now lol

11:24 pm | fuck me for trying to get back into dating again

hamzah

11:26 pm | r u okay?

11:26pm | im like here if u need to talk abt it

11:26 pm | or i can js come over

11:28 pm | we can smoke it out

11:29 pm | i got the mango wraps that u like

you

11:29 pm | i thought u didn't like the mango ones

hamzah

11:30 pm | i dont

11:30 pm | but u do

you

11:30 pm | doors open for whenever

hamzah

11:31 pm | dont leave ur door open wtf lock it n js unlock it when im there

11:32 pm | what if theres a murderer on the loose

you

11:33 pm | holy shit hamzah

hamzah

11:34 pm | sorry coming

--

thankfully, you didn't get murdered by a man in a mask wielding an axe.

hamzah and you were currently on your couch, eyes ruby and lidded with the weed in front of you guys glistening in your lines of sight. hamzah began to roll you a blunt using the mango wraps you enjoyed; he never, ever allowed you to roll on your own. he always preferred doing it for you ever since you both found out that each of you use weed as a pastime for boredom. however, for you, it started to morph into a way to stop hurting. the date from tonight wasn't the first date to have gone "horribly," in fact, it was a sequence of many. you started to feel better now that you aren't using on your own; hamzah was there now. maybe the pain from your heart justifies the pain you're risking towards your body. more importantly, hamzah gives an extra buzz; it was both the blunt in between his fingertips and himself that was helping you feel less lonely.

you reached for the blunt in his hand, itching to take a hit. however, he moved it slightly away from you. confused, you looked up at him, gazing at him. the black beanie, hiding most of his curls besides the ones at the nape of his neck, surprisingly complimented the redness of his scelera. gazing at him, your eyes twinkled as if the fire from the lighter appeared in them. this was the feeling you felt like you'd always achieve from the mere sight of him; a feeling of companionship.

"what's up?" he asked, not allowing you to take the blunt from his hand.

you snapped out of the gaze he intertwined you with, "huh?"

"you seem more out of it than usual," he took a puff from the blunt between his fingers, "i swear you never smoked this much."

"i don't- i haven't smoked a lot."

"you just took like 15 drags from it."

"i did?"

"yeah, you did. so, what's up?"

you slowly blinked, "i don't know."

"you do. tell me, talk about it- maybe it'll help."

you steal the blunt from his hand, taking a long hit as he stares are you with an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. possibly it was worry, or pity, or a cross mix between the two. maybe, he realized how much you changed since the two of you ended things.

"i guess i just feel lonely."

"how so?"

"i've been on 5 dates in the past 5 months, once every 4 weeks- and i guess like, i dunno, the more i go on these dates the more i realize how, like, shitty everyone is. this last guy i went on a date with, noah, i thought it went well. kissed his cheek and everything- the full 9 yards for a first date. then i realized he blocked me as soon as he left. it's like somethings driving people away."

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

he takes a long drag out of cylinder, "that people don't see you the way that i do."

"what do you mean?"

"you know what i mean, like-" he hesitated.

"don't think about it too much. just say it as it is."

he started, "when we were dating, i saw you as human."

"i mean- obviously."

"no, you don't get it," he softly assured, " i think before you, or like, dating you, i worshipped all the people i was with like they were some god. i got on my knees and saw them as this higher being to praise, to the point where my relationships constantly belittled me. i was just some guy and they had the fate of everything in their hands. why would someone with all that power love someone like me?"

"sorry, i'm lost-"

"then, i got to the point of my life where i dated you and, for the first time, i was with someone who was equal. i didn't have to work my ass off to keep you in my life; in fact, the time where i was so upset that i wasn't working my ass off, you took, like, 80% of that relationship for a full week and carried it on your back. i thought you'd just leave. when i was struggling, i thought you wouldn't want some burden for you to carry on your shoulders, weighing you down like you were walking up hills with rocks taped to 'em. no, instead you picked me up. i was crashing and breaking, constantly, and somehow, you taped all the cracks together and now i'm alright again. yeah, a higher being plays with fate and lives and chance and all of that, but there's so much in the world that they leave broken and unattached. only a human would take the time and effort to mend me back together."

you looked at him with furrowed brows and a pit in your heart, "hamzah, i don't get it. if you felt this way towards me, why'd you leave?"

"feel."

"what?"

"i still feel this way about you. i never stopped."

your eyes began to water and you couldn't tell if it was from the weed or from the secrets being let out of the closet, "you're fucking with me. what the fuck?"

he watched as your eyes glistened and began to rub your thigh comfortingly. you two sat on the couch in silence as thoughts ran through both of your heads; it was now up to the both of you if voicing the voices in your head was a good idea or not. simultaneously, you both decided to take the leap, with hamzah breaking the quietude of the room.

"i was scared."

"of?"

"if things didn't work out- if we kept going in the relationship and somehow we started arguing more or ignoring- i don't think i would've been able to handle it."

"i wanted to handle it."

"well-"

your voice cracked in the middle of your sentences, "no, hamzah, i could've handled it because i was with you. you left me! you left me when i needed you. i keep on trying to fill the space you just left in my heart and my apartment with random guys off of any dating app available and it just doesn't fucking work. why would you leave me like that? i mended your cracks and then you suddenly decided to give them back to me, and now i'm trying to fix it but i just can't. why would you do that, you fucking ass? and why would you tell me about it right now?"

"i'm sorry-"

"no, this should've never happened, i should've never invited you over. what the fuck?"

"kick me out, then."

"what?"

he stood up, with you standing up right after, "you regret this. it's fine. kick me out. tell me to leave."

"fuck you, hamzah, you know that i can't just do that."

"i'm telling you, kick me out."

you pushed him, "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"keep doing that. push me as much as you want, i deserve it."

your hands found its way to his chest, pushing as if you didn't beg for him to pull. he stared at you with a certain glint in his eyes; a certain neediness you haven't seen in him in a while. to say this was only a reaction of frustration towards him and his actions towards you would be a lie. it was everything all at once; the frustration from all the dates, the frustration from all hamzah put you through, and the frustration of not being touched ever since being with him. you were sexually pent up. you pushing him was actually the only form of physical touch you've had in ages. he took it. he simply took all the pushes you threw at him.

over time, the pushes got less and less aggressive, resulting in him being able to wrap his arms around you as you softly cried. you weren't fully sobbing, but it was still enough tears to the point where his shirt was slightly soaked. he didn't care; he never cared that his shirt was wet from you crying. he continued to hold you as he sat both of you down, back onto your couch.

"why would you do that to me?"

he kissed your forehead, "baby, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

he held you for what seemed like ages, stroking your hair and wiping your tears with his thumbs. you were confused; what do you want out of this? what does he want out of this? you wreathed out of his arms and sat beside him, both of your red tinted eyes remaining on each other's.

"i can leave now, if you want. it's two in the morning. i'm sorry."

"no."

"i'm not good for you. i leave when things get hard, baby, and i don't want you to go through that aga-"

you reached for his cheeks, thumbs in the fronts of them, and leaned towards him. your heads tilted to opposite sides, your lips connecting with bridges, mountains, and oceans of emotion between them. his hands made its way to your hips with his fingertips denting the stretchmarks, slightly tracing them as if his eyes were still opened. his tongue reached the inside of your mouth with hunger and desperation laced in his saliva. three minutes of sole kissing went by, before you pulled away.

"stay. please."

"what do you want from me, baby?"

"you know what i want from you. what do you want from me?"

"take a guess."

his hands made their ways to your thighs, pulling you over onto his lap, before connecting your lips again. he stood up, holding you with his muscular forearms, and navigated his way through the living room with his eyes still closed. the layout of your living room hasn't changed since he was last changed; hamzah was observant. he knew what he was doing.

reaching your room, he laid you onto bed with aspects of both foiling gentleness and roughness. getting on top of you, his lips made its way down your neck, making dark, blood-restricted marks down your body. it hurt; yet, you craved the pain it gave you. as he reached down to kissing your hips, you took off your shirt, leaving you in a bra. he stopped kissing you to hover over you, instead taking his beanie and hoodie off of himself in swift motions.

"do this often?" you teased.

he kissed you on the lips, "only with you."

he took off your shorts, revealing a black, lace thong underneath.

"you really just wear this shit around your house?"

"you were coming over," you started to take off his sweatpants, "i needed to prepare for the unexpected."

"god, you're so fucking hot."

the two of you laid in bed, him hovering over you and placing kisses and marks all over your body. he had always been a tease; you knew that hamzah liked to take his time with it. he said it feels better for the both of you if he does. however, currently, you weren't having it.

"hamzah, please."

"hm? what's the matter baby?"

"i need more, baby, please."

"are you still on birth control?"

"yeah, i am."

he took off his boxers, revealing the same 6 inches that you craved at night; actually, touched yourself to the thought of at night. his hand made its way to his dick, stroking it before moving your underwear to the side. as it slid inside of you for the first time, a burning sensation overtook the pleasure the entrance made you feel. your eyes teared up once more, followed by hamzah using his hand to wipe it off.

"hurts- fuck- it hurts-"

he kissed you lovingly, "it's okay; there's no rush. i'll start when you're ready."

you adjusted to his size as you made out with him, pulling away to tell him that he could move now. the pleasure he gave you couldn't even be measured; his movements made you forget all about the emotional pain that consumed you. there was comfortable eye contact, both of you looking at each other with the same eyes that started off high about 2 hours ago. your mouths remained slack jawed and wide open, occasionally kissing each other on the lips or mouth. suddenly, it felt as if a rope was about to snap inside of you.

"i'm close. fuck- i'm close."

he moved your leg up, resting it on his shoulder as his pace sped up. your eyes rolled back as ripples of pleasure echoed throughout your whole body. hamzah was good at this; he knew what he was doing and how to make you feel as good as you possibly can. with a few more strokes, you felt him release inside of you. he soon collapsed beside you, as you both caught your breaths.

hamzah turned to you and kissed you on the forehead, "i missed you."

"i missed you, too."

"what does this mean for us, now?" he hesitated, "i mean, am i gonna leave tomorrow and suddenly it's just like none of this happened, or-

"do you regret it?" you asked him, slightly scared of the answer.

"hey," he put his hand on your cheek, "i just spent the damn near the entire night telling you about how i could never regret you. fuck, i literally bought the wraps you like just for you. not to mention, i fucking hate the way they taste and they're a pain in the ass to roll and yet i did both smoke and roll them this entire night. i don't do that shit for just anyone. you tell me, do you think you regret it?"

"no. i don't. i can't regret you either, even if i tried."

"we'll start over. i'll do things right, this time, i promise."

you realized the line between temporariness and permanence wasn't as thin as you thought it would be, as now a temporary lover finally realized his permanence in your life.

--

authors note!

i am honestly not that experienced with smut, so i hope u guys still mess with it >_<

[tiktaalic]

gay! taylor swift just released a new song, and she's COMING. OUT. as a lesbian? yes as a lesbian! okay. which she's always been! okay alright jesus. it's called rainbow dress. hot summer june. sleepless afternoons. june. wearing my rainbow dress. is this taylor? she sounds bad. so full of pride. listen! what's hidden inside. like the vocals sound bad. jonathan van ness. jonathan van ness! okay. yeah he's gay. her best friend. i wanna have straight sex. she wants to have straight sex? at the gay pride parade. that's not so gay is it? this doesn't sound that gay. just normal sex. she's at the gay pride parade. nothing too weird. it's very confusing this song. yeah. a regular hunk with a beard. i wish there was straight pride. come on. at the gay pride parade. it's like a right wing talking point. if you guys aren't gonna listen? no no no. i'm gonna stop playing it. alright we'll listen we'll listen. we're gonna listen. she's talking about being at the gay pride parade. if this is supposed to be her song where she's coming out like why does she talk so much about straight pride? you have such a limited view of gender. oh yeah. you sniveling fuck. listen to the next verse. the second verse is gayer. i - you guys are gonna like it. who produced this? i think it was jack antonoff. i dream about your sweat. it sounds really bad. dripping down your balls. a sparkling chandelier. does she like this? she's really good at allegory. inside your shorts. julia are you okay? it's an ALLEGORY for QUEER LOVE. the balls line? i'm lost without a compass when i can't smell your balls. jesus ew that's like digusting. your balls are like a compass to my nose. what is this? pause - pause this. julia. what the fuck is this. are you guys gonna talk the whole time? i dont get it! i dont get what you're trying to do with this! where is she jt in the song. ... she's at the gay pride parade. alright yeah let's listen to it. it's fucking gay this next part? okay you're gonna love this part. i hate all vaginas. aaaaalright. it's an allegory! it's not gay at all! this was written by a maniac! no it's gay. even the one i got. dudes go down on me then they wanna kiss. this seems really like gender essentialist and hateful. that's disgusting gay shit. she has internalized homophobia. i am heterosexual. how are we supposed to interpret that? you guys are fucking assholes. yeah you know what we are being a little bit negative. i agree. she's gay. uhhh. you know. maybe she just wasn't like that outward about it with this one song.julia? julia? julia? she's gay! i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'll kill you!

[saturngas]

never leave me

[🪐] gojo has a very realistic dream about you leaving him and he goes insane

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: angsty with confort <3

warnings: established relationship; there is a lot of angst; but also a lot of confort; fluff; insecure!gojo; clingy!gojo; a bit possessive!gojo; again me breaking down gojo's character bc im tired of the mischaracterization (hope im not doing it or ill kms); not thoroughly beta-read but ill do it asap;

word count: 3.1k

..

it felt real. way too real.

the setting was gloomy, as the clouds concealed thoroughly the warm sun rays, making the environment appear more grayish as it was unusual for the hot summer season that enveloped the vivid city of tokyo. you and satoru were walking down the streets, making time before the sumida river fireworks festival that was held late in July. however it was still the middle of June. was this timing correct?

you were wearing the newest sundress satoru had proudly bought you with the biggest grin. you looked great in it, certainly making satoru blush each time he glanced down at you. but wait, wasn't the sundress white? why is it all of the sudden a cooler shade of blue?

the ice cream you were holding changed to a box, which was immediately recognized by satoru. it was the jewelry box that contained the most precious purchase he had recently made: the engagement ring you weren't supposed to see—or even know the existence of—. satoru is still thinking about the perfect place and time to ask you the question he considered the most important of all his life.

his blue eyes were too focused on the ring box that he completely missed your words. as he shifted his gaze on you to listen carefully, he still couldn't make out your words. your voice pitch was totally off.

and as he blinked, now you were standing in front of him at least ten meters away. your whole frame in sight. you no longer wore the color-changing sundress. dark ambivalent shades decorated your figure, being unable to even determine your legs and arms. your face being the only clear piece of you.

satoru panicked. the cold sweat he felt running down his neck and arms felt too real. he knew the view in front of him could be—to one point—false; however his feelings were genuine.

one of his arms reached out to you, as if to grab your form, only for you to grow further. but as if there were amplifiers all around his head, your voice buzzed through his external auditory canal, stimulating his eighth cranial nerve.

"i dont want to be with you."

"you always act like a child, ive been putting up with you for years. im tired now."

"ive found someone else. someone who has time for me and our relationship."

"this isn't exactly your fault. you can't control being the strongest and everyone needing you. but can't you see I need you too?"

"you leave me alone too much."

"are you seriously planning to marry me? you dont even have time for me as a boyfriend and you want to be my husband?"

"haven't you noticed im slowly drifting away? I dont want this anymore."

"im tired of your nonexistent time for me."

"im tired of this relationship."

"im tired of you."

it was your voice declaring all those statements. but satoru knew where they were coming from. the island full of insecurities that was deep in the back of his consciousness was expressing the most oppressed feelings he had. his easy going facade did an excellent job concealing his self-doubt in real life, making difficult for someone to accept the fact the strongest sorcerer had insecurities.

even so, he was a natural emotionally-closed person. the long months of attempting to open up to you at the beginning of your relationship were very difficult to him. even with his former best friend, suguru geto, satoru wasn't completely frank.

he knew he was a good boyfriend, at least acceptable, to you. once he bestowed his heart to you, he was yours, giving you his all.

still he felt insufficient.

the time dedicated to your relationship took a sharp turned when he started attending his obligations as the strongest sorcerer. he wanted to give you more of his honored time. he wanted to be fully devoted to you. however his status in the sorcery society fell in between you two.

satoru was afraid one day you would finally snap, disregarding completely of your relationship with him.

your voice materialized in front of him in the form of your figure again, your limps now distinguished. he couldn't exactly make out your expression as it was drawn between sorrow, tiredness, and frustration. your hand spanned toward him, handing him the ring box you were still holding.

"I won't," was all you said as you turned away, no other words following your unmoving lips. it was the answer for a question satoru had been picturing himself asking you: will you marry me?.

he only caught a glimpse of your face, emotions unchanged, until you departed. your hair was the last thing he identified as literal darkness danced around you, metaphorical darkness invading his heart and soul.

the setting was back to the bleak tokyo. the pitch black sky lacked its most trusted companions: the stars, as the new moon was merged within the loneliness of the murky sky. faceless pedestrians walked mindlessly around the lone tall man while others stared at the sky where the fireworks were being displayed, though their bright colors were absent and the blast was silent.

the innate technique limitless has always been a wall between satoru gojo and the rest of the world. even when he mastered it as a teen to be able to use it automatically instead of manually, satoru has been isolating himself. sometimes deliberately, other times unconsciously.

he knows what his dream means. he knows he is afraid of losing you, the person he loves the most. after witnessing at first instance the departure of what used to be his best friend into immorality and radical idealisms, going through a bitter break up of his friendship, satoru realizes he fears you would do the same.

as blackness coats what he thinks is his range of vision and light passes through the slim skin of his eyelids, satoru regains consciousness. his body feels cramped, as if he would have fought a special grade curse without stretching his limbs first. his neck is sore from the awkward position he is in.

the tall man´s strong body is facing the wall, placed in a fetal position, almost hugging himself. his high cheekbones feel wet. the soft touch of his lifted hand confirms he had cried during his dream—actually, nightmare.

the visions of his nightmare still present in his mindfulness, recreations of the pictures he saw—lived—so vividly in the dream play at the back of his mind whenever he tries to close his sensitive eyes. then he realizes.

you.

where is she? is she still with me? she hasn't gone to any place? she didn't leave? anxiety and panic rush through his body as he hastily turns to face the other side of the marital bed.

oh.

you are still there, stirring slightly at the sudden wave movements satoru caused. you are still sound sleep, your chest meeting the soft mattress below you, arms spangled plastered on the pillow you were pleasantly drooling over.

satoru feels his heartbeat decrease to a normal rate, his lungs no longer burning with the sensation of a upcoming panic attack. was he seriously going to have a panic attack over thinking you would leave him? yes. ten thousand yes.

even when he has you, his students, and his coworkers who sometimes seem to not be entirely fond of the tall man, satoru still feels alone. alone in this world of sorcery. he is in another level even as a living organism. no other human being and sorcerer can compare to him. not right now when he thinks he isn't over discovering more of his honorable traits.

but he is over that strength moral compass his best friend had doubted some years ago. he got over it when he met you. satoru was convinced he was satoru gojo because he was the strongest. but you proved him wrong when you started loving him for being just satoru gojo, not for being the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, the head of the gojo clan, or the supreme entity he was supposed to reach. you love him for the person he is, his personality, and his heart.

he knew that, right?

maybe he needed a bit of assurance.

strong arms envelop around your smaller form, your boyfriend getting on top of you without crushing you. soft lips dance around your ear and neck, tickling you to awareness.

your gentle giggles and whimpers fill satoru's brain of serotonin, a big toothy grin flashing his pretty face.

"good morning, my queen."

you stir in your place as you try to pull the over 180-pound weight off you. however, satoru clings his arms around you even more, his hands going to your mid area, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him. you are on your side with your back brushing his hard chest.

"don't leave my arms, please," he shares in one single exhale, his breath caressing your neck. you just know there is a lot more behind those words. you have learned to read your boyfriend like a book.

still, you don't want to disturb him. you know his book doesn't like being forcefully opened, because his pages are stuck to each other and are difficult to separate. you let him absorb your presence and wait patiently for him to uncover his feelings to you.

it has been out of routine, actually—the way satoru has been acting around you and only you lately.

if you have to word it out, it would be clingy, clingier, clingier than ever, though you have caught him acting his usual same with his students and coworkers. not once wanting to leave your presence, almost as his atoms would undergo unconventional transformations if he isn't breathing the same air within your range.

you were buying groceries and your boyfriend decided to tag along. of course you didn't mind, but it definitely took you out since it wasn't his day off and he had an appointment to train his students. satoru completely disregarded of said students which was such very strange situation since he loved them. guess he loves me more? you questioned. he couldn't keep his hands off you, almost as if you were to run away at any given chance. your boyfriend was usually handsy, but it surprised you when you passed through the candy hall that satoru's touch on you didn't even budge. he would usually go running and pick his favorite sweet provisions.

when you were called to a meeting, satoru followed you. it was shocking seeing satoru gojo—the progressive sorcerer who hated the higher ups—in such meeting. but it was to be with you, holding your arm tightly as his mind drifted away in other thoughts, not hearing a single word of the meeting. his ears would only spiked at the sound of your voice or the call of your name, listening in for a few second to make sure those old geezers were respecting your living form.

satoru would ask vigorously to be of company during your missions. you thought it was cute. maybe he wants to make up for the wasted time, you would assume. and you were partially right, considering that satoru also did it to protect you with his mere presence—it being his innate technique wrapping around you, or his strong cursed energy forcing the curses to escape and hide pitifully.

satoru's existence has been constant around you lately: not leaving you unattended for more than five minutes when going out, going everywhere with you along him, always having an arm securely attached to your waist or shoulders, his limitless isolating you from the world. it was almost becoming overwhelming to say the least. you loved satoru with all your life and the remaining lives left for you, but his persistent company was a bit too much.

you knew this wasn't some jealousy attack he had, proving everyone his possession over you. no, that wasn't characteristic of the man. perhaps satoru was having some resentment over leaving you alone so much? or perhaps he was having a fit of insecurities? it didn't happen often, but it had happened before.

a mush of white hair adorns your chest as you two are plastered on you shared bed, watching a reality show about a family of overly successful women. well, it is actually just you watching, since your boyfriend has his sensitive eyes closed. one of your hands underneath his shirt and the other is caressing his scalp at such low pace, satoru was almost drifting to sleep. your fingers are tangled in his mess of hair. your boyfriend has his arms wrapped around your tightly, as well as his long legs.

he isn't focused on the tv show, his mind picturing you leaving him, making his heart race abruptly and his breathing catch in his throat. his traitorous head has been torturing him over and over for the past three weeks. after that super realistic dream, no, nightmare, satoru has been anything but calm. anxiety plotting against him, making him believe the longer you are alone—without him—the more chances of you living him.

"oh my, I can't believe they didn't invite her ex-boyfriend to their family reunion. he is the father of the baby anyway!" you exclaim as the tv screen turns black showing the end credits, a rectangular button displaying at the right lower corner to go to the next episode. you moved your hand off your boyfriend's head to grab the remote. you immediately hear a low mumble coming from him.

"sorry, baby what did you say?" your eyes scan his face as you question him. the unmistakable pout and frown on his face goes noticed by you. "what's going on, toru?" you ask as softly as possible, both hands now grabbing his soft cheeks, making him look at you.

a groan now escapes from his lips as he moves his neck to position his chin on your sternum, facing you. satoru opens his eyes, bloodshot and glassy.

"satoru, are you okay my love?" tenderness paints your voice as you speak, a delicate finger whisking off the small eye crust on his left eye. "where you crying? is there something you want to tell me?" you try as hard as possible to linger the softness in your voice.

the sorcerer says your name in a whisper, suddenly feeling smaller under your constant gaze, eyes minding his surroundings. his blue orbs return again to you after a few seconds of thinking his response. "i... had a nightmare," you stay quiet to let him continue. "im sorry for not telling you earlier and acting so... irritating over the past weeks."

satoru sounds genuinely troubled, as in asking for forgiveness after committing the most atrocious crime of all time. your hands on his cheeks hold him tighter to bring his face close to yours, brushing your lips with his in a chaste but loving kiss.

"you dont have to apologize for that, toru," your lips graze his as you speak. "I just want to know why, if you want to, of course." you propose sheepishly, you still dont want to push him.

his concerned blue eyes look away once more, finding the correct words. "i... dreamed about you leaving me, after saying things that... were hurtful..." satoru actually sounded distressed and devastated. you immediately dismiss this as one of his tricks to be clingier to you and make you baby him. he is slowly opening up.

"we were in a festival and then everything went pitch black as you told me I wasn't good enough to be your boyfriend," he continues, his arms losing a bit of their grip on you. "I actually felt... anxious, and stressed about you actually leaving, so I guess I made myself... believe that if im with you all the time you wouldn't think that."

"think what satoru?"

"well..." the tall man is a bit uncomfortable, not because he was with you, but because he was opening his locked heart. "you said you were tired of me leaving you alone so much, that you were seeking someone else—someone better. you said you were tired of our relationship..." his gloomy voice saddens your ears. "you said you didn't even want to marr—" satoru cuts his words before completing his sentence. it comes out as a mumble so you luckily dont hear it.

"oh my big baby..." you sing as you hug him with all your mighty force. satoru almost feels his bones crackling at your demonstration of love. he then realizes he doesn't need to say more. you have understood him. the thing he craved the most.

he didn't need someone to match his strength, he was happy living as the strongest, he was proud of the title, sometimes even filling up his overly boosted ego. but he wanted—needed—someone to understand him, his feelings, his emotions, his position. he learns you dont need to be as strong as him, as powerful as him, as inhuman as him, to understand him, since your mere and pure love for him is sufficient to empathize with him.

satoru is lucky to have you, he knows that. he can be all of him to you—the strongest, satoru gojo, the head of the gojo clan, the beholder of the legendary six eyes and limitless, gojo-sensei. he can be all of himself to you or even a portion of him. and you would still receive him with open arms and a loving heart.

even when it took him almost three weeks to open up, you still waited and listened to him. you understood that he wanted more physical assurance than verbal assurance, your big bear hug becoming more meaningful than the thousand words you could have told him.

satoru comprehends he loves you just as much when he realizes and comes to his senses that he does not want to leave you and he fears the idea of you leaving him. he suffered lost once with his best friend, he got through it, but he doesn't believe he will be able to do it again if this time it is you who drifts away.

if it were up to him, you would be with him covered up in his limitless technique, isolating you both from the word. but he can't be that selfish and insecure about your commitment and devotion to him.

satoru then realizes his choice of marrying you is the correct one. as your long hug continues, your hands caressing his back and his rubbing your sides, satoru thinks of the pretty ring sitting in the box of his sorcery uniform, ready to be pulled out and worn by your pretty finger.

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks

[serejae]

I CARRY IT WITH ME EVERYDAY | BND

pairing : bnd x reader

genre : fluff

WHAT ! - bnd and the orange peel theory (warnings kissing, petnames and cursing (maybe idk) this was suppose to be short but leehan had to ruin it...(JK)

wc : 1276 | @onedoornet @miidorei

SUNGHO :

-pls are you kidding me?

-him and taesan are the kings of acts of service, but i feel like he'll have a different approach

-you guys know (or have) those dads who hear one single thing about you liking something then buy like 27 of them?

-thats sungho, any fixation you have trust, he's the backbone of it providing for it

"ugh recently the stores have such good oranges" you said as you ate the peeled orange sungho had peeled for you. the second you grabbed the orange he took it from you and started peeling it despite your whines of how you could peel it yourself. either way, you appreciated the action and thanked him. "what store did you go to?" he asked while on his phone "the one near our house" you peacefully said while munching on the orange you heard him hum. the next day you woke up the kitchen filled with bags of oranges as well as a sungho standing there peeling each one. running up to him you questioned why your guy's kitchen was radiating the color orange, he shrugged grinning a bit, and continued peeling. you grabbed one to try and help to which he grabbed it out of your hand. "i don't want your pretty hands getting orangey" he smiled kissing your forehead (have yall seen that man peel a apple…?)

RIWOO :

-it comes to him naturally

-the first time he saw you with anything you had to peel, shrimp, crab, mangoes, he swore to himself you would never have to get your hands dirty again.

-he tries to make it fun for you both, as he listens to you talk he focuses on making the peel of the orange pretty

-so then he has a gift to give to you

you held the orange in your hand as you spoke moving it around. his eyes were focused on the orange as he was listening to you, so he grabbed the orange while still listening to you talk. as you continued speaking he started peeling the orange being delicate with the skin as he slowly peeled some edges. he nodded, hummed, and let out little "yeah's" as he listened to you tell the story that he's probably heard 200 times but he doesn't care. you're telling it to HIM. suddenly he hands you the peeled orange and holds up the peel which was in one piece. now this was his favorite part of peeling any orange for you, you have to guess what the peel was. "bird?" "nope" "flower?" "i already did that" "bird?" "bird" "that's a horrible bird riwoo" "HUH?"

JAEHYUN :

-ugh sighed just thinking about it (nicely)

-he's 163 steps ahead of you

-dont even bother asking for him to peel a orange cause this loser is peeling everything for you the second you ask for a orange

-he comes back with a peeled, diced, cut fruit platter, where'd he get the fruits from in such a short time? idk..

"you know what ive been craving recently baby?" you spoke up as he lay on ur shoulder scrolling on his phone. humming in response he looked up at you "some oranges for the hot summers seem so refreshing don't you-" he cut you off by leaving the room leaving you there '??? rude?'. he comes back in 7 minutes and 29 seconds with a colorful plate. full of red, orange, yellow, green, blue(?), pink, and purple fruits. he smiled as he showed you like a kid showing their parent their artwork, he noticed your silent shock and went "ta-da!" you tried to remember where you guys had this fruit lying around to realize you didn't..." thank you so much jae, where'd you get this fruit from? so quickly too?" he just smiled cheekily "i have my ways" he sat by you and fed you the fruits piece by piece with no complaints.

TAESAN :

-act of service man p2

-if he even heard a LICK of you craving, liking, or wanting something trust, you will have it 12 hours later on the clock.

-it doesn't matter how he heard it, he just did now he needs to deliver for the love of his life

-this man would fight SEAS OF PEOPLE just to get you what you want and act like it wasn't that big of a deal

as taesan made his way to your shared room to ask you a question he heard your conversation with your friend. he didn't mean to eavesdrop but he heard you say "you know what I've been craving recently?" and he had to listen. he was legally obligated to. taesan heard you talk about those juicy oranges, the ehime jelly oranges, were the oranges at where he was? no. was he going to get those oranges? yeah. don't ask, but he managed to get the oranges, did it cost him an arm and a leg to get it in 12 hours? duh, but it was worth it. he was sitting on the couch on his phone waiting for you to wake up to see the oranges sitting on the dining table, when you did you walked out to see a box on the table. "whose this for min?" you asked opening the box realizing its oranges. "you" he said smiling at your reaction when you realize. "are these...?" he nods and gets off the couch to cut the oranges and scoop the inside out to feed to you (i don't think you can peel these kinds of oranges sorry!!)

LEEHAN :

-mister listener overhere...

-once he realizes youve been craving oranges he tries to ask you questions but not too many to get you the perfect orange

-he doesnt wanna ruin the surprise but he has to make sure it fits your standard

-once he got all the information he needs, he's on a mission and will. he will be nonchalant about it when he picks the perfect orange.

"why have you been watching videos of oranges on repeat..." leehan asked behind you as you rested your head on his chest "they just look...so good." you sighed feeling your mouth water at the video of the perfect orange. "its so perfect, the color to the size, i mean can anything be more perfect?" you asked sitting up turning over to leehan, he nodded "I'm looking at something more perfect than a stupid orange right now" he smiled. you laughed at his line "thank you but these oranges aren't stupid" he nodded "how do you pick a perfect one?" he put his phone down and listened intensively. the next day he was the first one at the grocery store just in case some sucker had the same plan as him, to get the perfect orange for their perfect lover. well too bad for them because leehan was there first. anyways, leehan stood there for a while keeping your advice in his head, 'it must be soft, but not too soft that makes it bad. it has to be firm, but not too firm or else the flavor is gone. it has to be big, for the value but cant be too big because that takes all the flavor. it has to be small, but not too small that's too sweet.' your voice kept repeating in this head until- ah ha! the perfect one. now he needs to find 6 more. as he got home with his 7 (hopefully) perfect oranges he starts peeling. you woke up to see leehan walk into your room with a plate of peeled oranges. "woah.." you muttered, they were so vibrant. you tried one and hummed in satisfaction. "howd you pick one so perfect?" you asked him, and he grinned "idunno"

[artdcnaldson]

patrick hive to the rescue because im thinking, as i often do, about friends to lovers with patrick where you're kind of upset because he and art have gotten around and you're still struggling on the dating scene, maybe you're shy, probably you just have standards, and its really just all starting to bug you because you're worked up!!!!! imagine hanging out with patrick during the summer - the room is sticky with humidity, despite the air conditioning being on full blast. you're hot and irritated and sexually frustrated. patrick being half clothed isn't helping, either - you can see the gleam of sweat on his bare chest - the dusking of hair on his thick thighs as he lounges back with a cigarette. you're going mad, it feels like you could detonate at any second your clit is so on fire - throbbing and achey and everytime you press you sweat slick thighs together it makes it worse.

patrick is looking at his phone - so you take the chane - just a small touch - just for some relief. you're on the bed, there's a plushi blocking his view - it cant hurt just to slide a sneaky hand down the band of your shorts and panties. just to stroke your swollen slit. surely he wont noitce if you just...... rub yourself a little. while you sneak glances at his toned body - just peeks, really. if you're very quiet (you do realize the sticky squelch of your cunt can be heard across the room, right? you dont) you might even be able to cum undetected

GODDDDD FUCK!!!! This was supposed to be a chill, normal, short response. Instead I ignored 2 work calls bc it’s that serious.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (exibitionism/voyeurism, f!masturbation, not fingering but a secret third adjacent thing, extreme levels of horniness)

A/N: Patrick Hive we Linked and Built <3

Patrick thought it was so sweet that you invited him to visit your home for the summer. Apparently you’d sung nothing but his praises to your parents, because even though you were both eighteen, they let him sleep on the floor of your room on a blow up mattress, trusting him that much.

Which was annoying. You weren’t fucking Patrick (not for lack of wanting to), but they could’ve at least given you the benefit of the doubt and assumed that you might have some sort of sexual urges. It made your stupid fucking celibacy that much more embarrassing.

You’re home alone with him and the power’s out— a stupid, heat-induced rolling blackout. The open window only seems to usher in more hot summer air, so you’re both down to as few layers as would be appropriate. You, were down to a thin T-shirt and your panties. Patrick was only in a pair of grey nylon shorts. Sweat was beading down his bare chest, which was so fucking unfair.

Because it was Patrick, whose chest hair and happy trail made your mouth fill with drool any time you were treated to the sight of it. It was summer, and he was frequently shirtless, and you still hadn’t gotten used to the sight. Any sane person would want to lave their tongue along his chest, tasting the sweat and salt of his skin. That was… so totally normal to think about.

Patrick fucked your neighbor— the cute one who was going to a state school so she could be a kindergarten teacher. You didn’t know, but you were pretty sure. You’d been swimming in the pool during a cul-de-sac cookout, and they’d disappeared after a while. Patrick didn’t say anything that night, probably to protect your delicate sensibilities, but you could just kind of sense it.

God, it was unfair. All of the guys your age had girlfriends, or something. And the single ones were cute, but Patrick always seemed to fuck things up for you, either actively, or because you would always wind up talking about him. And because your parents thought it was totally fine for him to sleep in your room, you were surviving off of weak, rushed orgasms in the shower.

It was supposed to be a fun, sexy summer before you went off to college, and Patrick was totally ruining it. How was it fair that he got to fuck around and get his rocks off while you spent your summer feeling like you were wearing a fucking chastity belt?

And you were so wet it was uncomfortable, sticky between your thighs with absolutely no relief. Patrick was sitting on the fucking Air mattress, propped up by your cute, pink pillows and plushies that he’d stolen, watching a rerun of The Hills on MTV. His hand dangled out the open bedroom window so the smell of smoke wouldn’t get stuck in your innocent little bedroom.

He stretched, and you watched with an open mouth as he blew the cigarette smoke out the window. Pretty fucking lips, his muscles all taut as he turned. He looked back at the TV, and you exhaled a shaky breath. Fuck, you were so turned on you wanted to scream. Your pussy was just drooling into your panties, clit throbbing and aching for attention, your entire body felt empty, desperate to be filled up.

You were practically buried in your stuffed animal collection, which was embarrassing on any other day (Patrick had nearly laughed at the sight, but you’d insisted that you couldn’t just throw all of them away… they were nostalgic), but you’d never been more grateful until that moment.

You were already pretty well covered, thanks to the near life size bear sitting beside you— the perfect safety net. Your pulse was thundering in your chest, making you feel a little dizzy with anxiety or arousal, or a strange new mix of both.

You were burning hot between your thighs— throbbing and soaked all sticky and slick. Your legs twitched instinctively as your fingertips dipped into your core, where a pool of your arousal awaited. A shaky gasp escaped you as you moved your slick fingers up to your neglected clit, and you quickly muffled the noise into your pillow

It was like you’d never really touched yourself before. The level of need and desperation within you was completely unknown until that point. Your eyes rolled back as you began grinding up against your fingers. Your teeth dug into your lip to stay quiet as you played with your clit as discreetly as you could.

Patrick shifted to get more comfortable. Flexing his thighs just slightly, rubbing sweaty palms against the muscles there. He ashed his cigarette with his gaze locked on the TV. “This shit is so boring,” he muttered.

And fuck, his voice. You considered arguing with him, just so he’d get louder, and his voice would get more intense, and you’d be able to fuck yourself to completion to the sound of him speaking.

Your poor, neglected pussy clenched around absolutely nothing, begging to be filled by his dick, his fingers, your fingers, a toy, a hairbrush, fucking anything. Your panties were absolutely sodden— drenched to the point of forming a transparent little spot right above your cunt.

If Patrick had looked over, or, if he had unfocused his eyes just right and peered into the reflection of the TV screen, he would’ve been able to make out the sight of your fingers, moving steadily, desperately against your clit. If he had done that.

Your toes curled just slightly, thighs closing around your hand as you got closer and closer. It was loud— just how much you were moving. You needed— god, you needed so much in that moment. You grabbed a random plushie— a pink rabbit that you probably got with that years’ Easter basket— and held it over your lap. Yeah, that worked. Super casual, perfect way to hide the way your hand was working your clit.

And the pressure. Jesus Christ, the pressure of the warm stuffed animal over your cunt was too nice to resist. You’d have to throw it away after, you knew, but you couldn’t help but grind yourself up against it. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine it was his lap, or his thigh, or something warm and soft and hard for you to rut against.

But you couldn’t close your eyes, because you had to watch Patrick. To make sure he didn’t know what you were doing. An arm slung behind his head, the muscles highlighted by the shiny sheen of sweat there. You whimpered pathetically, muffled into the pillows. He probably heard, he pretended he didn’t. It was that level of feigned ignorance that let you keep going.

He probably knew, you could pretend he didn’t. The razor’s edge between you and a much needed, earth-shattering orgasm hinged on that level of ignorance.

So you pathetically humped against your fingers, and the stuffed rabbit, and chased at the bliss that was so fucking close you could taste it like metal on your tongue. Your thighs squeezed around the rabbit as you came, soaking through and making even more of a mess of your panties, and the rabbit, and your sheets, and your fingers.

You hadn’t realized how loud you were breathing. It was like someone had been holding you underwater and you could only just now hear the world with a shocking sense of clarity. Your body felt hot all over, your legs felt like jelly. You hid the stuffed rabbit beneath a discarded blanket, a problem for later. Legs crossed so you could hide the soaked mess between your legs.

Sure, you could play that off.

“You could’ve asked me to leave,” Patrick said around his cigarette. There was a twist to his lips, a sense of amusement. “Nah, you probably didn’t want me to. Too busy eye fucking me while you defiled that poor little bunny.”

He stood, noticeably hard in his shorts, which you weren’t looking at weren’t looking at weren’t looking at. He grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs apart, all while wearing the smug sort of expression that got you to this position in the first place. Really, it was all his fault. His eyes trailed up your legs, to the glistening mess coating your upper thighs, and the sheer mess of your panties.

“Huh.” His hands moved up your thighs and you exhaled shakily, parting them more to accommodate him, whatever he wanted, whatever he was thinking. You could come a thousand more times just for him, at his every whim. But that was the repression talking, not just because of him.

Your breath caught as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and he peeled them down. His expression held the same sort of concentration that you saw him exhibit on the court. Focused on you, it made your heart pound.

“No wonder you were so loud, huh?” He teased, fingers gliding through your slit. It was embarrassing how wet you were, coating his fingers and palm in your arousal. Each light brush against your clit made your thighs twitch, made a desperate keen escape you. “I could hear it the second you started, by the way. But even before that, I could fucking smell how turned on you were. You could’ve said something, you know. I would’ve taken care of you, made it real nice.”

You moaned softly, eyes wide as you peered up at him. When he removed his hands from your pussy you fucking whined— pouting as he held his fingers up to the light and grinned at the glistening mess left behind. You watched those fingers disappear between plush lips, tongue sweeping out to clean them up. His cock jumped behind the shorts he wore from want.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you insisted, sitting up to rub him through the fabric. “It’s hot, we’re both horny and bored. Just use me. It’ll feel nice.”

He didn’t take much convincing. He’d been rubbing his dick raw on that stupid fucking inflatable mattress every night when you were asleep anyway. How could he not? You were just too adorable.

@poppy-metal your mind amazes me no words no thoughts just this <3 thank youuuuuu for this in my inbox it truly kept me fed

[skyburger]

okay the good news is i found the post its real i remembered it correctly and everything. a christmas miracle! the bad news is half an hour ago i was trying to get a screenshot of the post and it was a bit too long to get in one screenshot and i thought ughhhh i dont want to stitch together two screenshots. i have learned a lesson today and that is "don't use the full-screen screenshot on ios safari it's not even a fucking picture its a pdf you have to make INTO a png if you want to crop it and the full fucking image is so stupidly long (its a bit over 14 megabytes) it will be a hassle to crop and when you crop it oh its still gonna be like 1500 pixels wide so you think oh ill scale it down but if you scale it down in ibis the quality goes to shit even if i change the method and im Not manually dragging the corner to size it down and then cropping the canvas (this was a better idea i shouldve listened) so you have this low res screenshot of this post youve been trying to get for half an hour and after all that you think Oh my fucking god i shouldve just stitched two screenshots together."

anyway shoutsout to op of the post... hi 👋

does anyone have the post about someone convincing their friend (possibly op's boyfriend?) that there was a real matt damon movie with some dumbass name and they edited the cover of "the bourne identity" (see image #1) to have the fake title but all i can think of is "the turgle" but im pretty sure im mixing it up with the "who turgled" comic (see image #2). Help!!!!