#i still am not going to do anything about it and just hope it will go away

[wonderjanga]

wonderjanga, I Summon thee and ask that you bless apon thee with Black Adam and Captain Marvel misunderstanding content. (Please. Thank you and good day.)

Ps. Hope you are having a wonderful day or night.

Misunderstandings on Black Adam’s side:

Black Adam: “It is I! Black Adam!”

Marvel: *stares for a solid second* “…Who?”

*silence*

Black Adam: “What do you mean ‘who?’ I am Black Adam.

Marvel: *looks around* “Sir, I don’t know who you are.”

See, Teth thought there was no way in the world that the current Champion wouldn’t know who he was. So, he immediately assumed the guy was lying to be rude. After all, there was no way the Wizard would appoint a Champion and then not tell them about the previous Champion that was sealed away because of his… strong opinions on certain matters.

Black Adam: “Yes, you do.”

Marvel: “No, I don’t.”

Black Adam: “Yes. You do.”

They went back back-and-forth for a bit before Adam gave up and just attacked him. If the Champion was gonna be so disrespectful that he’d claim that he somehow didn’t know him, he’d show him some disrespect in return.

Then there’s the second misunderstanding.

It came about when Adam had some Kahndaqi investigators dig up some stuff on anything that could point to the Champion’s true identity. They still found out about Billy, but he wasn’t who they thought he was.

Black Adam: “So you have a child.”

Marvel: “What?”

Black Adam: “You have a child. William Joseph Batson?”

Marvel: *looks like he’s about to shit bricks*

Black Adam: lOur similarities never cease to make me ill.”

Marvel: *just decides to go with it* “My bad…?”

Adam was so salty about this because this made him realize that as a fellow father, he couldn’t kill him. The information he dug up showed that while he was somehow alive, his wife certainly wasn’t. Teth wasn’t about to make an innocent little boy to be an orphan, regardless of whether the fact his father was the Champion. That wasn’t gonna stop him from hating the circumstances though.

Misunderstandings on Billy’s side:

As mentioned before, Billy had no clue who Adam was at first. So he immediately assumed this guy was magical if he had powers.

Marvel: “So how were you created?”

Black Adam: “Why does that matter?”

Marvel: “Because I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Black Adam: *gives him a strange look*

Billy originally thought Adam was a stray piece of the living lightning that flew off somewhere and became evil somehow.

Then he assumed this guy was in fact, not magical and instead super rich because he had a bunch of guys following him around as Billy.

Billy: *standing at a crosswalk, sweating*

Khandaqi Info Collector: *shamelessly taking five million photos*

Yeah… The Khandaqi guys Adam sent were not slick in the slightest.

Not that Billy knew they were from Kahndaq anyways.

The Public’s misunderstandings:

There are none but they’re convinced that the cheese and Adam have beef that spans generations upon generations(which it does, but that’s mostly for Adam, not Billy). They don’t know much about their situation, but they’re suspicious and want to know.

[hardly-an-escape]

inspired by this gorgeous art by @newtkelly 🌹💕

It's just a normal Tuesday. They're about two hours out from the end of their shift and Buck is upstairs in the kitchen, finishing up the dinner dishes, when Chimney's voice floats up from the floor below.

"Hey, uh... hey Buck? I think you have a visitor."

He sounds a little weird, almost like he's trying to hide something. Buck frowns and grabs a dishtowel. "Be right down," he calls back.

He hops down the last few steps, rounds the front of an engine at a jog, opens his mouth to ask what's going on and – stops dead.

Tommy is standing in the middle of the ambulance bay, feet planted like he's expecting someone to come along and shove him out the big garage doors – and from the slightly murderous glare Eddie is throwing his way, it might be a valid concern. He's wearing a cream colored Henley and his hair is tousled, a couple artful locks falling over his brow.

But what stops Buck in his tracks – what roots his boots to the floor and makes his mouth drop slightly open – are the flowers.

Tommy's arms are absolutely overflowing with roses. There's got to be at least two dozen, maybe even three, wrapped in classic brown paper with a bright ribbon holding it closed. They're full and perfectly opened and a deep, rich red, with a handful of pink and white carnations scattered through the bouquet that, rather than distracting from the roses, just make them look even more luxurious by comparison.

"Hey," Tommy says. "Happy Valentine's Day, Evan. Can we talk?"

Buck spends at least two and a half seconds fruitlessly opening and closing his mouth.

"Valentine's Day isn't until Friday," is what eventually comes out. He can practically hear Eddie's eye roll from behind him.

One corner of Tommy's mouth lifts in a tight little smile. "I know," he says. "But this is the day I knew for sure you'd be on shift, so."

"Oh. Right," Buck says stupidly.

"These are for you." Tommy hefts the armful of roses and Buck automatically steps forward to take them. His fingers brush the backs of Tommy's hands as he does so.

He could swear he feels a spark. Maybe it's just static electricity. But Tommy's eyes widen minutely, so he must feel it too, whatever it is.

"You, uh. You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah. Yes." Tommy clears his throat. Buck is intensely aware of the fact that they have an audience. Eddie is still frowning, Chim is doing a very bad job pretending he's not hanging on every word they say, and even Bobby has paused what he was doing to lean too-casually against a wall, arms folded and carefully neutral expression on his face. "I have thought... so much about what I want to say to you. I've gone around and around, telling myself if I could just find the right words, I could make you understand. And then telling myself I haven't even earned the right to try." Tommy takes a deep breath. "It shouldn't have taken me so long to get my shit together and come talk to you. You deserved better than that, Evan. But I... I'm here now."

"I'm listening," Buck says. He's glad he can hold the flowers, because he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Tommy seems to be having the same problem; he clasps them awkwardly in front of himself, then unclasps them, then goes to shove them in his pockets and seems to change his mind, rubbing them briefly against his hips instead.

"Thank you. Thank you for being willing to listen," he says. "I... I never found exactly the right words. But I know what I want to say. First, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I fucked up, and I panicked, and I just kept panicking until it felt like it was too late to do anything else. Second, there are still things I hope we can talk about, things I tried to say that night that I couldn't get out right. Stuff about my past, and questions about the future. But most important... Third. I do want a future with you, Evan. Everything you said that night, I want it so... so badly. And it took me walking out to realize that, because I'm an idiot, and a coward, but all I learned by being without you these last couple of months was..."

Tommy trails off. His eyes have never looked so blue. "Was how much I don't want to be without you," he says simply.

There's a long moment of silence. You could hear a pin drop in the firehouse. It's as if everyone in the building is holding their breath. All Buck can see is Tommy – Tommy, with his broad shoulders, and his fidgety hands, and his blue eyes, full of hope and tears.

"Can someone come take these flowers, please?" Buck says over his shoulder, without unlocking his eyes from Tommy's. Chimney comes up behind him and gently takes the bouquet from his hands, stepping back without a word.

Buck takes a step forward. And then another. And then Tommy steps too, and then their arms are wrapped tightly around each other, cheeks pressed together, and it's as if the entire station heaves a sigh of relief.

"You are an idiot," Buck whispers fiercely into Tommy's neck.

"I know."

"This doesn't magically fix the fact that I'm still really mad at you."

"I know, Evan. I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I promise."

Buck pulls back far enough to look Tommy in the eye again, and what he sees there reassures every uncertain inch of him: sincerity. Hope. Apology. Even – he dares to hope – love.

He begins to lean back in, but before he can crush his mouth to Tommy's, the bell rings – because of course it does – and the alarm squawks, calling the 118 to a house fire a couple neighborhoods over. Buck reluctantly tears himself loose and heads for the engine.

"Don't you dare leave!" he yells to Tommy, pointing a dramatic finger at him.

"I won't! I'll wait right here for you!" Tommy yells back.

Chim claps Tommy on the shoulder and shoves the bouquet back in his hands as he runs past. The last thing Buck sees before they pull out and round the corner is Tommy's smile, blindingly bright above a cascade of red roses.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, I hope this is an okay question to ask. I am s l o w l y exploring and learning what kinds of kinks I like. I’m drawn to taboo kinks and I’m really curious about ageplay, but I’m worried that if I open the door to letting that be hot, I’m going to start seeing actual kids as hot. Obviously that doesn’t mean I would do anything about it, but I’m still not sure I want that in my head. Is there any truth in this fear? Could that happen?

well much in the same way that the majority of pup players aren't trying to hump real labradors on the street, D&D players generally aren't running around pulling swords on random shopkeepers, and my years doing Warriors Cats rp online never made me want to live in the woods pissing in the dirt and eating mice, I suspect that what you're attracted to is the safety of fantasy and play rather than the actual, literal thing. pretty big line between those two things, actually, and most people are pretty clear on the difference between stuff that's made up and harmless and stuff that's really really bad. I use this example often, but I assure you that my abiding love of Batman using his billions of dollars to dick around doing lawless bullshit has not softened my feelings on Elon Musk in the slightest.

I assume that, like most well-adjusted adults, you aren't attracted to children. what you're into is, presumably, adults acting in ways that are characterized as immature, carefree, cutesy, helpless, bratty, etc, and the dynamic of those playacting adults might have with others who take the role of their caregivers. that is... so, so, so far removed from being attracted to an actual human child. I don't know if you've ever actually, like, hung out with kids, but they're pretty different than adults. I mean obviously they're little humans who have their own opinions and ideas and personalities and have a right to autonomy and making their own decisions as much as is safely possible, but they are REALLY different from age appropriate, sexually compatible adults. someone doing ageplay is, like, a million miles from an actual kid.

it's kind of like how when Riverdale was on I'd see gifs of that insane redheaded lesbian and go "yeah, she's hot." like, sure, the character's a teenager, but that actress is an adult woman who's only two years younger than me and we all know that. the idea of fucking an actual teenager is vile. even if I were to see someone and have an initial aesthetic appreciation, the second they open their mouth and start saying 17 year old things the attraction is gone because I've realized that's a child.

(no offense to the teens in the room! you're great and I'm sure your 17 year old stuff is really important to you! but adults should not want to fuck you, is the point.)

so what I'm saying is: seems unlikely!

also, okay. let's assume the absolute worst case scenario happens and you experience a twinge of sexual interest towards a child. that's understandably alarming; that's not an urge most people want to harbor within themselves. that may require some dialing back from ageplay, or a chat with a kink-friendly mental health professional, or seeking out some community and advice from others in your kink scene who may have struggled with something similar. but please, give yourself some credit: you have some shred of impulse control within your body, yes? you're not going to make the leap from having a thought to being an active child predator in one fell swoop. the choice to harm a child, or to seek out pornographic material of child sexual abuse, are still choices that you would have to actually make. and it's making those choices to do harm that actually make child abusers a danger, not just having thoughts. having a thought all by itself doesn't hurt anyone; it's the way you act on it that has the potential to cause harm.

but again, I want to emphasize, sexual behavior is by and large a pretty easy wire not to get crossed with other things. please note the brave billions of people who manage to get through every day without groping their colleagues and random strangers because they understand it's not the appropriate time, place, or partner!

[wlwsoccerfics]

Foster Care (KerstinCasparijXRuthBrownXTeenReader)

Warning: talks about foster care and slight trauma mentioned.

A/N: i hope you like this. It is a bit short but it won't be the last time writing about them.

Summary: Kerstin and Ruth take you in when you make your Manchester City Debut and they find Out you are living in a Foster group Home. you are not feeling well so they step up.

You had moved in with Kerstin and Ruth around three months ago. You made your Manchester City Debut for the Senior Team around five months ago. As soon as they found out that you lived in a Foster group Home they applied to Foster you and are planning on adopting you.

They really made you feel so loved. Something you never really had experienced in your life. So this was nice.

They were really caring and protective of you. You realized that once again when you woke up in the middle of the night, coughing like crazy. So you dragged yourself to the kitchen to make yourself a tea.

Ruth heard you and went to check on you.

"y/n, darling is everything okay?" She asked. Looking quite concerned when she noticed the sweat on your forehead and the glassy eyes.

"yes, just wanted to make myself a tea." You answered . "Maybe i am getting sick!" You added. She gently placed her hand on your forehead.

"you are burning up, Angel! I think you already are pretty sick. get back to bed please. I will make you some tea!" She told you and offered you a sympathic smile.

Before you could say something, Kerstin walked over.

"is everything okay?" She asked.

"y/n is sick. She has a fever." Ruth explained. Kerstin frowned softly.

"oh kiddo, i am sorry to hear that! Anything i can do?" Kerstin wanted to know.

"can you go with me and tuck me in?" You asked, biting down on your bottom lip.

Kerstin offered her hand to you, which you gladly took.

"yes of course!"she told you, smiling at you.

She then walked you back to bed. You got into bed and cuddled up to your Manchester City pillow.

"Can you lay with me until i am back to sleep, please?"

You asked her and she nodded her head softly. "Of course liefje." Kerstin laid next to you and you cuddled up to her. At the age of 15 right now was the first time you felt like you have found your place, where you could show weakness and be vulnerable. Kerstin held you and gently rubbed your back, you were coughing softly.

"Thank you!" You whispered out.

Ruth walked into your room 10 minutes later to found you asleep, you weren't the only one though. Kerstin was also asleep. Holding you protectively in her arms. Ruth smiled to herself. Placing the Cup of the on your nightstand and taking a picture of the two of you all cuddled up. She thought it was very cute. She went back to bed so you could get some rest. You made it until 5am before waking up from coughing so much. Kerstin was woken up by that as well. She helped you sit up and rub your back. Ruth walked into your room as well.

"Oh sweetie, it's okay. We are here!" Kerstin answered.

"thank you!" You slowly calmed down from that coughing fit.

"i will stay home with you today! Gonna call work to let them know i won't be coming in!" Ruth said, sitting down on the bed as well. Checking your fever again. "you are still burning up!" She stated and frowned softly.

"you don't have to stay home for me! I know your Job is important!" You said softly.

"you are way more important, lovely." Ruth told you.

"i can also stay home if you want." Kerstin offered.

"No, it's okay. The Team needs you. Both of us missing out on practice and most likely the Game won't help anyone." You said softly. "Oh what about my homework?" You added.

"i will tell Viv to ask Helene to take your homework with her so i can grab it from Viv." Kerstin replied. Helene was Viv's and Beth's adoptive daughter and also your best friend. She also played for Manchester City and was a year older then you.

"thank you." You answered. Ruth gave you some meds and then you went back to sleep while she was cooking some soup for you to eat later and Kerstin getting ready for early morning practice.

You almost slept through the entire day. You ate some soup, took a bath and cuddled with Ruth.

It was 6pm when Kerstin came back Home from another round of practice and you had some Family cuddles. Slowly starting to feel better.

"thank you for everything Mama & Mom." You whispered out before drifting off to sleep. The two couldn't help but smile and tear up a little when you said that. Knowing that you felt Safe enough to call them your moms was a big thing. They couldn't wait until the Adoption was finalized. And neither could you.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚⋆ Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y’know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”

[melodyreads]

Our Little Secret

You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?

Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3

a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.

---

From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.

Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.

A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him while greeting him with a kiss. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.

Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together. 

I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.  

We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past.

For Hamzah, it had more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.

If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.

So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.

“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”

The table goes silent and my stomach drops.

I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.

It even smelled like him.

I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.

Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..

Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”

I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.” My voice started to shake

Pull it together.

“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”

Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”

Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. All those hoodies look the same, part of the reason we sold so many.”

Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.

Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.

I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.

That was too close.

But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.

God I wanted him bad.

---

The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.

Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.

I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.

He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.

"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.

Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.

That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.

And yet… here we were.

The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.

I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.

A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this.

But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.

The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.

A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.

“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”

I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.

Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.

I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.

Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.

“Wait.”

Hamzah’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”

“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.

I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.

A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”

Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”

I didn’t need any more convincing.

This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.

From now on, we came first.

---

a/n: Hope you'll enjoyed this!!!!! It's so hard to end stories, but I think I'm getting better at it lol. Lmk if you guys want a part two????????

[bogleech]

I'm actually not going to let this go until Gerry is at least as widely ridiculed as Human Pet Guy. That guy still didn't do anything half as disturbed as this fucking loser, let me pull up my favorites again:

Gerry messaging me from an alt pretending not to be an alt

Gerry claiming again that it's antisemitic of me to say the IDF are bad guys who do not represent the entire Jewish population. This is not, in fact, the same as saying they're "not jews anymore." Also bragging about supposedly baiting and sealioning me into saying whatever they believe I said wrong. I guess the stupid ass hell thing????

Calling me a "blorbo" like I'm a fictional character rather than a human. Also, I went and got the original hell comment to double check it:

.....This doesn't even say the IDF should go to hell. It says I hope people "excusing" the IDF's actions should go to hell, I just typoe'd it as "excising." I guess Gerry successfully gaslit me, since I fully believed I had said specifically "the IDF go to hell." Thanks!

Gerry accusing me of "lumping them in as pro genocide" in response to a comment in which I specifically state I do not see them that way. How else am I supposed to read them NOW, though? Because I defined that as "someone who thinks kids deserve bombs dropped on them," and Gerry's response is "how dare you say that about me......???????" What?? Not once do they ever simply say "no one deserves their town to be bombed" or anything like that. They absolutely refuse, because they do in fact believe that it's okay to bomb a whole community if some of that community might hypothetically be "hamas." They do in fact think it's acceptable that people who never hurt anyone else should die that way for some sort of greater good, or that only hamas can be blamed for those deaths by "forcing the hand" of the ones with those bombs.

Gerry admitting the IDF bombs, loots and tortures, even though most comments they call antisemitic are calling out just that very behavior. Gerry to my knowledge has never willingly blamed anything negative on the IDF since this comment and continues to attack people who do.

Gerry admitting the honest core of their beliefs and behavior. This isn't really about me, though. I mean, part of it is, I can definitely be vindictive. But I mostly ignored this asshole for the past year until the doxx comment, and now I'm getting more messages than ever from people who feel actually hurt and terrorized by this motherfucker. I've suffered ZERO fallout from their attacks, I am evidently too big I guess, but there are people who change their username to hide from this piece of shit, even fucking minors who dared to say "free palestine" once. Then there's @stoptheantisemitism, who is NOT gerry, but is impersonated by gerry's alt account @spottheantisemitism and other alt accounts, @stop-the-antisemitism and of course @stop--the--antisemitism in this very thread. Creating so many variants is a deliberate attempt to make it as hard as possible for casual rebloggers to remember which one is the real person. I mean, two alts only add dashes to the same username, and the other only moves one letter "p." I have no idea how tumblr staff can rationalize that as okay. But, again, if there's a guy who can't show his face without human pet jokes because he was just generally creepy, or everyone remembers sixpenceee's family having slaves, why can a user devote this much of their miserable life to "baiting and sealioning" people from multiple accounts and still have a usable blog left? ONE LAST THING!!!!!!!

In the notes on this very post, gerry is so bent on finding people to call out and slander they tried to find "misogyny" in a comment saying that women like studying bugs????????

Gerrysherry, the user who tells people I'm antisemitic because I think IDF soldiers are killing innocent civilians (rather than framed by some kind of Hamas conspiracy), believes my real name was a secret that I only just now accidentally revealed rather than the default way I've signed all my web content since the 1990's. Also believes that I have an employer, that "telling my parents" would affect a grown man, that my hippie mom would disagree with me anyway, and that the hatemail they got last year was all me rather than the natural and inevitable fallout of the supremely fucked up shit they say about the victims of a mass murder. Apparently would gleefully leap at any hypothetical chance at "doxxing" me though. Good to know. Literally wishes they could ruin my real actual life because I don't think Netanyahu is a hero.

[skzdust]

I Want You To Want For Me

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

To the person who inspired this: basically it wasn't even my decision to write this, since you brought it up in the first place. <3

Had a ton of fun writing this one though, hope you all enjoy!

Title from "PUPPET" by Tyler, The Creator.

Summary: You and Minho have been waiting for a day you can be his all day, and it's finally here.

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Includes: free use, oral sex m receiving, face fucking, fingering, light somno, praise, degradation, scratching/marks

Word count: 1.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz,

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

You woke up to a hand between your thighs.

You moaned softly, arching back into your boyfriend and resting your head on his shoulder. “Morning, Minho.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” He murmured, and you took a breath as he focused his attentions on your clit. “You remember what today is?”

“Yeah.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Good girl.” His finger moved faster. “Want you to come for the first time today like this.”

“That’s not going to take long.” You were still half-asleep, but Minho felt so good, and as his other hand moved down to circle your entrance, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Minho, Minho, Min—oh!” You came, shuddering through your orgasm. Minho let up once your legs started twitching.

“Okay, I’ll let you get ready for the day.” He placed a kiss to your temple, and you could feel the smile on his lips. “Wear something cute for me.”

“Yeah, I will.” You got out of bed, grateful your legs weren’t shaking just yet.

You went through the steps of your morning routine and chose an outfit you knew Minho would like, with a low-cut top and a short skirt. You stepped out of the bathroom, and Minho hummed appreciatively from where he still lay in bed. “You look amazing, baby.”

You did a little twirl for him, your skirt floating up to reveal just a tease of the lace underneath. “Thank you. Thought you might like it.”

“I do.”

“So, what did you want to do today?”

“Oh, just relax. Didn’t have anything in mind.”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Nothing in mind, huh?”

“Nothing in particular.” Minho’s grin was sly. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was thinking playing some video games would be nice, and I want to order food, not feeling like cooking, but that’s about it.” You shrugged.

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “I can work with that.”

You laughed, walking out of the room. “I’m going to have some cereal, and then I’ll probably boot up the PC.”

—

You’d been sitting at your computer for a while now. You noticed when Minho walked in, but you just hummed in his direction, too absorbed in your game to acknowledge him beyond that. At least, until he leaned over your keyboard and pressed the escape key.

“Minho!” You protested, looking at him. “I was—”

“You were what?” Minho smiled innocently, his eyes wide. “As I understand it, you’re mine for today, which means I call the shots, got it? And I want you to suck me off.”

“Can I at least finish—”

“Are you going to listen, or am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?” Minho’s expression shifted.

A wave of heat ran through you. “No, I can listen.”

“Good. Stand up.”

You got up, and he took your place in your chair. You knew what was expected of you at this point as you fell to your knees in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl.” He mumbled, pushing his sweatpants down.

You were on him before he had to tell you anything, wrapping your mouth around the tip and pushing yourself down onto him.

“Fuck.” He moaned, putting a hand on the back of your head to steady himself. “Fuck, babe, you feel so fucking good. Keep going.”

You kept going, pulling back occasionally to press kisses and lick along his length. “Tastes so good, sir.”

“You like my cock that much, prove it.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Prove it? Am I not doing that enough right now?”

“I want you to choke on it, I want you to gag. Get all of me in your mouth, can you do that?”

“Yes.” You took a deep breath, then you began to take him into your mouth, gagging a bit when he hit the back of your throat. You steeled yourself to get the final bit of Minho’s cock into your mouth, and you knew from his deep, loud groan that you’d succeeded.

“Fuck. You feel so fucking good.” He said, shallowly beginning to thrust in and out. You coughed around him, feeling so full but not full enough, not where you needed it. You were so aroused, you could feel yourself growing wet. You knew Minho probably wouldn’t pay any more attention to your pleasure until he came, not because he didn’t care, but because he wanted to teach you a lesson.

You tried your best to keep yourself steady, pulling back to gasp in a breath every so often before going right back to his cock.

“Good.” He all but growled. “Good sluts know to just shut up and take it.”

You moaned loudly at that. You liked being Minho’s good slut, you wanted nothing more.

You closed your eyes as he began to use you in earnest, fucking your face at a shameless pace. You choked around him, doing your best to keep your bearings in the dizziness the whole thing was bringing upon you.

Eventually, though, his hand tightened in your hair, and he let out a long moan as he came in your mouth. “Don’t— don’t swallow.” He panted.

You didn’t, sitting there with his cum on your tongue, looking up at him patiently.

“Such a good girl.” He let go of your head. “You can swallow now.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath once you could open your mouth again. “Jesus, Minho, that was… that was good.”

He laughed. “Good, I’m glad you had fun. You can get back to your game now.”

“But—”

“You should get back to your game.” He said firmly, getting his pants zipped and standing.

“Yes, sir.” You sighed.

“Don’t worry, you know I’m not done with you for today.”

You smiled as you got back in your chair.

—

“You want to get food?” Minho walked into the room, holding his phone. “I was thinking that one Chinese place you like.”

You looked up. “That sounds great!”

He sat down beside you. He kept the delivery app up in one hand, but the other came to rest on your thigh. You smiled at it, and then smiled wider as it began to make its way further and further up.

He selected a few things and handed you the phone. “Here, pick whatever you want.”

You scrolled through the menu, and hissed in a breath when he began to rub two fingers right where your thigh met your torso. Your eyes almost fluttered at the sensation. “Minho…”

“What?” He said innocently. “Finish your order.”

You selected a couple dishes and submitted the order. Minho had started to creep closer and closer to your entrance, and it was as you were handing his phone back to him that he pushed one fingertip inside. You squeaked, nearly dropping it.

“Careful, babe.” He laughed softly, taking it and setting it to the side. “We’re going to see how many times you can come before the food gets here.”

You whined. “Yes, Minho.”

He pushed two fingers inside you, and your head dropped back with a loud moan.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” He whispered. “How do I get you to make that sound again… I mean, I have some ideas. Wanna test them?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, your head still leaning back on the couch cushions.

He curled his fingers up, and you whimpered.

“Close, but not quite.” Minho murmured. “We should keep going.” He pulled his fingers all the way out, and then pushed them back in, three this time. He began fucking you, setting a punishing pace that had you clenching down around his fingers.

“Minho…”

“That feel good?” He said. “Doesn’t it feel nice to be so full?”

You nodded, humming your agreement, although it came out much closer to a whimper than a hum.

“That’s a good little slut.”

You whined. It was always hot when Minho got sick of the praise and decided to start being mean.

“You like that?”

“Be meaner to me, please.”

He snickered. “I can do that. You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Needy little thing. You just want to come, isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes, wanna come.”

“Luckily for you, I’d like to see that.” His voice was like a fine whiskey, smooth, but made you burn to the very core. “You’re just a toy, just for me, so you’re going to do exactly what I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You shifted as he found a new angle, pushing even deeper inside of you. “Yes, God, Minho, harder.”

“Such a whore.” He pulled his fingers out so he could drag you down on the couch, prompting a whine from you as his fingers coated with your own wetness met your thigh. He started fucking you again with them, the new angle allowing him a ferocity that had been contained before. Strands of his hair fell down around his face as he fucked you, his eyes raking up and down your body. Their weight made it feel like there were almost scratch marks in their wake, and you wished he’d do that to you next: scrape and mark up your body until every inch of you belonged to him.

“There something you want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Just was thinking it’d be nice to have some marks.”

“Oh, is this not enough for you?” He punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that had you seeing stars. “You want me to mark you up, too?”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“Greedy slut.” He sighed. “You always want more, don’t you?” With the hand not currently wrecking your hole, he scraped lightly down your side.

“Harder, please?”

“Jesus.” You could hear the eye roll, but he obliged, digging scratches into you.

Your mouth fell open from the sensations. “Fuck, Minho!”

“Too hard?” He smirked.

“No, it was just— God, I’m going to come.”

“Tell me when you’re close.”

“I’m close, don’t stop, Minho, please don’t— fuck!”

Minho’s nails dug into your side as you came, the pain making it even more delicious as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

You opened your eyes, and Minho was smiling at you. “Good?”

“Yeah, fuck, that was so good.” You threw an arm over your eyes. “Fuck.”

“Well, our food isn’t here yet, so we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” Minho’s eyes were big with false sympathy.

“Oh, no, I think we are.” You nodded. “How horrible.”

“Horrible indeed.” He agreed before starting to moving his fingers again.

[lumdays]

please notice me, prince!! ♡

au by @alli-ily << i've been meaning to join this au for a little while now hehehe

*click for better quality LMAO,,, sorry i have no idea why it's so fucked up but i did transcript the important stuff down here if you want

sir? dame? siyun (aka azul's worst nightmare)

"though they are very capable, they're quite unpopular with nobles as they tend to disobey even direct orders if they figure that there is a more efficient way to do things. they're also a little too honest for high society's taste."

siyun hails from far away lands, practically another world (hehe nod to them being a yuu). it is known that they have two younger siblings and that their parents are both well but it seems that they are no longer in contact.

...ashengrotto despises them (they give him SO many headaches, FREE HIM 🙏🙏)

some more stuff utc,, ARGHHH I BRAINROT OVER AUS LIKE THIS SO FAST💔💔💔 it's the evil manhwa lover in me

ALRIGHT SOOO.... the reason why i keep mentioning azul is because In My Head (please correct me if i'm wrong/you don't want me making up stuff HELPPP i didn't know what to go off aside that there's a bunch of kingdoms and nobles), he was accused/is suspected of embezzlement and siyun was dispatched to monitor him.

...they might as well be the bane of his existence honestly. embezzlement is likely the one crime he has yet to commit but with a highly competent knight keeping a close eye on him, it's gotten a lot harder for him to do anything that is remotely not outstanding-member-of-society material, which pisses him off to no end (...that's kinda just his own assumptions though LMAO, siyun does NOT care that much about the matters of some rich merchant,, unless someone gets hurt that is).

ANYWAYS. this made me think i should probably write down how they feel about lady ariya and prince shin

starting with lady ariya

siyun truly admires her resolve to clear her family's name. but they also can't help but feel something akin pity for her, the path she chose for herself will be long and arduous, especially alone—very few manage to walk out, head held high and pride intact. still, she seems like a promising young lady and siyun is a hopeful person, "i will assist you should you ever call for me."

prince shin (@liyuviq)

humble beginnings, big responsibilities. it's a bit presumptuous, but siyun sort of relates to the illegitimate prince. perhaps not fully—they never experienced Suddenly Being A Royal and sincerely hoped they never would, even in another universe. however, they can relate to the whiplash, the struggle to cram into a few months—no, weeks—everything the other nobles learned over the years, the stares, the whispers... they remember how it all felt, and when they look at their highness shin, they can only hope that they will rise through it all. "then again, i do know i am not your highness. perhaps you don't feel even a fraction of the dread that filled me back then—i would be very glad if so."

i hope i'm not overstepping 👉👈,, aghh also open for interactions for anyone interested hdhdhhdshd, i haven't checked the tag yet HELP

as for the hypothetical target of their affection,,, i fear it may be butler jade 💀💀........... I'M A SUCKER FOR BUTLER X KNIGHT ARCHETYPE 💔💔💔ALSO I BRAINROT OVER YUNDE 2MUCH💔AH AND quick lore rundown

i imagine their knighthood still stands in another empire—or kingdom,,, sorry my knowledge of the world building here is a little vague HDUAJHF. anyway the point is that they are skilled enough for the royal family themselves to take them under their heavy golden wing—until the ashengrotto accusations and they're given bits and pieces of their freedom back.

I'M REALLY SORRY MOOTS THIS IS JUST ME YAPPING ON AND ON..... but like this au's really sick‼️‼️‼️ tags - @heyhellohihowareyou @elenauaurs @distant-velleity @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @skriblee-ksk @sickle-stick @puowei @jadelover69 @tixdixl @nemisisnemi @angelwishess @theleechyskrunkly @chillygourami @bunniehunn @cheerleaderman UUUH DID I FORGET ANYONE.....

[poemgyu]

ㅡ stumbling back to you ( 한동민 )

ㅡ PAIRING: ex!taesan x fem!reader

ㅡ SYNOPSIS: ୨ৎ in which you show up at your ex's doorstep drunk

ㅡ GENRE: fluff, college au, getting you back trope

ㅡ WARNINGS: none??? mentions of drinking and alcohol, kisses and cuddling but nothing more than that

ㅡ A/N: this ended up being longer than i expected oopsies!!! anyways hope u guys enjoy this ᡣ𐭩

taesan has just gotten out of the shower, his previously wet hair now dry as he sets the towel down on the bathroom counter. he’s about to go lay in bed when he hears the doorbell ring. and another. and once more.

taesan looks at the digital clock on his nightstand and frowns. 12:30 AM. why would anyone show up here this late? he’s deep in thought when he hears a loud knock, and someone’s voice. a voice he recognizes particularly well. his eyes widen a bit, but then go back to normal. no it couldn’t be. 

he shakes down his suspicions and calmly walks to the door. the person on the other side is still knocking. he sighs before opening the door and the surprise on his face is evident. “y/n?” 

“taesannnnn!!!!” you say, stretching out the end of his name. taesan stares at your face. the face of his ex that he knows all too well, the face of the girl he’d broken up with just three months ago.

it’s obvious to him that you’re drunk. your pink cheeks, the way you just hiccuped, how you keep closing your eyes because you can’t keep them open, and the fact that you’re leaning on the person beside you for support—wait who’s the guy beside you? 

the guy taesan had been eyeing with nothing but sheer hatred finally gets the hint and speaks up, “hey man, y/n wouldn’t tell me where she lives and this is where she told me to take her… sorry about this haha…” taesan looks at him with an unexplainable emotion in his dark eyes. 

“who are you?” he asks although it sounds more like a demand.

“i’m eunseok! we’re in the same club and we had a welcome party today! y/n got a little drunk and i was trying to drop her home but we ended up here…” eunseok says, a bit taken aback by taesan. 

without saying anything, taesan grabs your arm and pulls you towards him, forcing eunseok’s hand to fall back next to his side. “hm?” you look up at him with squinted eyes. 

“thanks for taking care of her, i’ll take it from here,” taesan gives him a stiff smile that eunseok reciprocates, trying not to make the moment even more awkward for himself. taesan pulls you inside his apartment and closes the door behind you. 

once the door shuts you can immediately feel the warmth of his hands on your back, it engulfs your whole body. you smell the familiar scents of his body wash and shampoo and you take in a deep breath. taesan pulls you out of thought as he moves back to look at your face. he’s frowning. 

“what were you thinking?” taesan sighs as he gets a look at what you’re wearing. a black dress that leaves most of your legs bare and a thin leather jacket, which is mainly just for style and does nothing to keep you warm. 

“it’s so late and you’re dressed so lightly, and you let a random guy who sounds like he barely knows you walk you home while you’re drunk! do you realize how dangerous that is? what if something had happened, what if some weirdo did something to you—” he’s cut off by a giggle from you and the expression on his face changes when he sees your face. 

“are you worried dongminie?” you look up at him and his heart softens at the name you call him. you are the only person, aside from his very close friends and family who calls him by his real name. 

he ignores your question and looks away. you slightly stumble without taesan’s grip around your body and his gaze comes back on you as quickly as it left. his hands come around your shoulders and back to support you as he walks you over to the couch. he steps into the kitchen and comes back to hand you a glass of warm water. 

“you usually get sick during this time of year, you shouldn’t be drinking cold water. and especially with that outfit you’ve been in all night.” he says the last sentence while glaring at you. you pout while drinking the water. 

“mean dongminie,” you mumble and you swear you heard taesan let out a quiet laugh. 

“dongminieeee!!!” you whine. taesan looks down at you, “what is it?” he says while moving a strand of hair away from your face. “y/n is tired.” you pout. taesan chuckles at how you can barely keep your eyes open as you talk to him. “alright. i’ll give you some clothes to wear and then you can go to sleep, okay?” his tone is so soft that it’s lulling you to sleep right then and there. 

“don’t wanna. alwready coezy” you say, slurring your words as taesan bites a smile back. “come on, if you sleep in uncomfy clothes you’ll wake up really sore tomorrow.” you’re too tired to fight with him so you just give in, “carry me.” taesan sighs as his hand secure themselves under your thighs and back. he carries you to his bedroom and gently places you down. 

taesan rummages through his closet to find clothes that’ll keep you warm while your arms are wrapped around his waist as you lean all of your body weight on him. once taesan finds something, he turns around to gently pat your back making you look up at him. “go on and change,” he hands you his clothes and walks your wobbly figure to the bathroom. 

as he closes the door he shouts, “don’t fall, alright!” he’s worried because he’s seen you stumble over yourself way too many times tonight. “you’ve always been clumsy while drunk,” he says to himself before he hears you shout, “okie dokie!” 

you step out of the bathroom and are about to trip once more over the fabric of the sweatpants taesan gave you. “dongminie too big,” you put your arms up to show him how the hoodie arm exceeds at least 5 inches over your hands.

taesan can’t help the smile from creeping up his face as he takes your appearance in. you’re wearing a matching grey sweatpant and hoodie set that got too small on taesan since he’d grown out of it. he laughed to himself at how even his smallest clothing looked humongous on you. 

“i’ve missed seeing you in my clothes” he mumbles to himself. “huuuuuh?” you look at him, blinking your eyes with flushed cheeks, due to your intoxicated state and taesan just thinks you looked so cute that he could—he clears his throat. 

“your ears are rwed dongminie” you point out, pointing to his red ears. taesan’s eyes widen as he quickly covers his ears. “y-you should go to sleep, you must be tired,” he point to his nicely made bed. 

you nod and hold your arms up, waiting to be carried like a baby. taesan throws his head back and closes his eyes as he lets out a soft laugh, amused by your antics. 

in a swift motion he pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. your face is buried into his neck and taesan can feel your breath on him. his grip on you is firm as he walks you over to his bed and gently lays you down.

he makes sure to pull the blanket all the way up until it reaches your chin and once again moves your hair away from your face. he looks at you with so much tenderness as his gaze lingers for a couple more moments, as if he’s trying to memorize your face like he’s never going to see you again.

“goodnight,” he finally says as he turns off the lamp on his nightstand and stands up to walk away when he feels a tug on his sleeve. he turns around to be met by your eyes which he can’t refuse, “stay please,” you mumble and taesan can’t say no to you. how could he when you look so precious. 

he slowly nods as he crawls into the other side of the bed, pulling the blanket on him as he lays there stiffly. you turn to face him and he feels obliged to do the same. he looks so pretty that your drunken self can’t help but blurt out, “why’d you leave me dongminie. you’re a bad dongminie.” taesan’s eyes soften at your small voice and the hurt look on your face.  

“i’m sorry,” he lets out a soft sigh, “it’s my fault.” “what do you mean? tell me,” you ask taesan, wondering what he means. the way taesan broke up with you was so abrupt. there had been no fights, no arguing, no nothing prior to the breakup. he had met up with you at the park and told you that you guys couldn’t be together anymore. you were so shocked because you guys were so happy. he was your most favorite person and without him nothing was the same. 

you look back at taesan, it’s like he’s thinking carefully on if it’s okay for him to tell you. “it’s just that saemi, she—she was planning on framing you for plagiarism that she did. it would expel you out of university and she even had all the evidence and everything and wanted to ruin your whole life if I didn’t break up with you and i—i was just so scared. i didn’t want you to be ruined because of me so i—i had to,” he raked a hand through his raven hair and you could hear his voice shaking. 

you remember saemi. back in highschool she had the biggest crush on taesan and everyone knew. so when you and taesan started dating you’d became her biggest enemy. she would play childish pranks on you like tripping you and slowly it got worse. she once locked you inside the janior’s closet for 3 hours and when taesan found you he was so furious that he got saemi suspended from school. you thought you’d never see her again after highschool but you never expected her to come back into your life and threaten your boyfriend.

“i’ve missed you like crazy. it was so hard for me to try to erase you from my life and i still can’t do it. every time i saw you walking with a guy my stomach would feel like it’s being ripped out but i couldn’t do anything about it.” there had been so many nights that kept taesan awake. he’d worry about if you were doing okay, if you were safe, if you had moved on and he would feel so empty. as you watched taesan you could tell how hard it’s been for him. 

“you probably won’t remember this but i love you and i always will love you, even though i can’t be with you," he looked into your eyes with nothing but sincerity. you suddenly shifted your body close to him and the alcohol in your system made you spontaneously bold. you leaned even closer and caught his soft lips in yours. it was only for a moment but as you pulled away you could see the shock on taesan’s face even through the darkness of the room. 

you sleepily giggle as you hold his hand underneath the blanket, “i’ll make sure i remember this at least,” you say, the last part becoming almost incoherent as you’re on the brink of falling asleep. taesan has always had this effect on you which instantly relaxes you.

your eyes are closed as you feel taesan bring you impossibly closer to him, as if you’ll disappear in an instant. your face is buried in his chest and the soft scent of his shampoo is intoxicating the air around you, even more than the soju you drank earlier. the last thing you feel before going off into dreamland is the softness of taesan’s lips on your head, pressing a kiss and mumbling a small “sleep well y/n.”

ㅡ ౨ৎ ㅡ

as soon as you open your eyes, you’re met with the view of a white t-shirt, likely someone’s chest as you’re snuggled in it. you look up to see who the owner is and your eyes land on taesan’s peaceful sleeping face. your heart softens and the memories of last night come flooding back. you smile to yourself before taking in taesan’s face. you haven’t had a good look of it in what feels like forever. 

his lashes are long, you notice, not one sign of discomfort on his face as he sleeps soundly. his lips are slightly parted and the sound of his breathing fills the room. your gaze drops to his lips once again and you remember how you briefly kissed him last night. you gasp at your boldness, maybe a little too loud because taesan’s eyebrows furrow and he begins to shuffle. he softly groans before his eyes sleepily, open and they meet yours instantly. 

“morning, baby,” he says lazily as his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer and his head buries in your neck. he did it so naturally that even he realizes and suddenly moves away and sits up. he looks a bit surprised but his expression changes and he looks shy. 

“i swear i didn’t kidnap you!” he abruptly says and you have to force a giggle back as you sit up as well. “you probably don’t remember but you came here last night and you were drunk and—” “i remember,” you cut him off and his expression goes back to being surprised. 

“you—you remember? everything?” “everything.” you assure him. he looks taken aback like he doesn’t know what to say. he shyly looks around the room figuring out his words, “so will you… take me back?”  

taesan is scared of what you’ll say and it’s visible on his face. you both are looking into each other’s eyes and he looks so pretty right now that you could cry. you’ve so badly missed the morning face of his that you're looking at, his nagging habits, his smile, everything about him. 

“of course i will, i’ve missed you so much dongminie,” you giggle sheepishly and taesan’s expression finally calms. “thank—thank god, i was scared you wouldn’t want me,” taesan finally exhales out the breath he’s been holding in. 

“but you’ll have to promise me something,” taesan looks at you expectantly. “if there’s ever a problem we’ll tell each other and work through it together.” taesan aggressively nods at your words, “i’ve learnt my lesson.” 

you laugh, “okay!” taesan once again looks at you expectantly while fiddling with his fingers. “so… does that mean i’m your boyfriend now?” you let out a hearty laugh again and taesan swears his heart does backflips.

 “yes taesan you’re my boyfriend and i’m your girlfriend,” you say smiling and taesan can’t control himself as his hands reach out to cup your face and his lips meet yours. 

he kisses you with so much softness and love that you can feel it emitting out of him. he savors you like it’s the first time he’s kissing you, his lips moving tenderly against yours. you feel him smile against your lips and that’s when you realize that he’d been longing for you as much as you had been longing for him.

a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog ! thanks so much ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

[chimielie]

pretty damn close

summary: Suna x F!Reader. he picks you up.

wc: 1.3k

cw: none. reader is having a bad night for unspecified reasons and suna makes her feel better by being his weird aquarius self

a/n: i think i may be more attracted to suna’s car than i am to suna because i feature it so often

It’s a bad night. The stars are hidden behind a thick haze of city smog, the honking of cars is obscured by the thick ringing in your ears. Your knees touch through the rips in your jeans as you shiver, trying not to think about the germs on the sidewalk.

The scent of a cigarette floats through the air. You don’t smoke, but you could.

Before you ask the stranger for a light, a car pulls up in front of you, braking loudly through the miasma.

You put a hand on the door handle and pull yourself up, waiting for the click of the lock’s release before you pull it open and slide inside.

“Hey,” Suna says, and you chatter your teeth together in response.

He reaches over and turns up the heat in his car three notches. You sigh and drop your shoulders at the rush of warm air that comes through the vents, tucking your legs up as he speeds away from the potential of a nicotine buzz.

“Can we go to your place tonight?”

You expect a side glance or a questioning tone. You have a defensive answer prepared, brushing off your growing discomfort with your roommates, the way their eyes track you as you lead him through the common area to your bedroom. You don’t want to field their assumptions tonight, the ones you know they make because of the smudged eyeliner around his waterline, the black swoop of his hair, the careless way he walks, his center of gravity pulled back toward wherever it is he wants to be that is never, ever where he is.

“Sure,” he says, like it’s nothing. Maybe it is. Maybe the little world you occupy, your mini-lanterns dangling from the ceiling and tchotchkes lining the windowsill, can expand outside its limits.

The lines of Shizuoka’s road shine bright white under his headlights, toothpaste and baking soda strips against the asphalt. You twist your head so you can see the sky out the window and try to take a deep sniff of his car door’s lining without his noticing. Teak and gasoline, you like this smell so much you imagine it when you’re at work, when you’re walking to the grocery.

“This was our first time calling, you know,” you say to the stars.

“Was it?” There’s a little frown in his voice. “No way, we’ve gotta have called before.”

You shake your head.

“I checked my call log, and I never clear it.”

“Huh.”

“Huh,” you echo. “And I don’t like calling, so that’s probably why. I feel so awkward.”

“You’re always awkward,” he says.

“Not true!” You try to punch his arm, but you’re still pressed up against the window so now you’re lying across his passenger seat, twisted into a bow. You graze his sleeve. “I’m whimsical. On the phone, I feel like I’m in a business meeting.”

“I am not a business-y person,” he says.

“No, you’re really matter-of-fact,” you respond. Your punching hand is limp at your side now and he reaches over, picks it up and shakes it side to side like it’s something dead. He folds his fingers over yours and you stay carefully still. “I can see it in another universe.”

“Then in that universe you must be an heiress,” he says. “I’ll seduce you for your money.”

“I hope you’re not doing that now,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “I don’t make half as much as you, with tips.”

“But you’re so high-class,” he says, in a terrible tone that makes you suspicious that he’s making fun of you. You stick your tongue out and blow a raspberry, ladylike. “And I’m not seducing you.”

It’s true. Suna comes over, toes off his big boots made bigger by their chunky soles, sits on your bed and plays games with you. He eats all your snacks and he puts his hands up under your shirt, but just to trace his fingers over your skin in patterns to feel your stomach flip. He calls you a masochist but he never does anything about it.

“But you told ‘Samu I was your girlfriend,” you say, a whine that’s really a needle, sliding into his pressure points.

He throws the car into reverse and you cling to his hand, startled. Suna parallel parks in one try, showboating bastard, and gets out of the car and opens your door before you’re finished putting everything that spilled out of your purse on his floorboard back into it. You get out and he finds your hand again, but changes his mind and exchanges it to flatten his palm against the small of your back, burning a hole through your thin t-shirt.

You cross your arms and let him guide you into the building. His doorman is a blinking red button on a keypad that needs, counterintuitively, to be pressed if you want it to open. You poke his side, but he’s too well-trained by your boss and his twin brother, too hard to provoke. You don’t try very hard; you don’t like bothering Suna, you just want him to get tired of not telling you his secrets.

Suna’s apartment is enclosed behind a grey door marked 221. There’s no welcome mat, and inside isn’t welcoming either. He has nondescript dark grey furniture facing a big TV you can see your reflection in, sucking in your cheeks and pursing your lips. Behind you, he’s miming clawed hands and a snarling bite into your neck. When you turn to him, he’s very busy adjusting the way his keys hang on their hook.

“I didn’t say that,” Suna says, leading you to the kitchen, which has a butcher block island you’d like to kill him for. He opens his fridge and hands you a chilled bottle of water, a bar of dark chocolate with a bite taken out of it. You don’t like the texture but you take it to be polite. “I told ‘Samu you were my soulmate.”

“I just don’t feel like those two things are distinct,” you say. “I also really like being made aware of it when I’m in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” he says, putting his hands on your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter, you bending your knees and pushing to help him out a little. “I’m still working on that.”

“When’re you gonna be done?”

He puts his face in your chest, cheek against your heartbeat. You flush, lean your head on top of his, slide a hand into the gap between the collar of his shirt and his neck, your cold fingers raising goosebumps but garnering no other reaction. Annoying, annoying, annoying.

“When you’re not having a bad night,” his voice is muffled by your shirt. “But soon. Just be patient with me.”

“I’m not having a bad night anymore,” your face, twisting into a scowl, says otherwise. “And I’ve waited a bunch of lifetimes. How soon is soon?”

“When I’ve cleaned my bedroom,” he says. You can see into the room if you look left, a sliver of spare, clean space just like the rest of the apartment. “And when I stop being scared that I’m gonna screw it up.”

“I see,” you say thoughtfully, tapping your fingers against his neck in a staccato beat. “The relationship or the asking?”

“Asking,” he says, and then, very quiet, “you make me nervous.”

“That’s silly,” you laugh, “I’m half as scary as you are. You’re like a black hole. I’m just, like, a rock or something that got pulled in.”

When he pulls back to look at you, Suna’s eyes are haloed with a bright ring of yellow-grey lustre, a pinprick of pupil expanding to swallow the universe. There’s something crackling all around you, the buzz of atoms getting closer to combustion. He’s not actually touching you, but you can still feel it.

“Nah,” he says. “If you were anything, you’d be stars.”

[lululocomo]

The past: Macaque's Reaction

(this is about my Forgotten Wukong au! feel free to look at the masterpost linked at the end if you wanna know more!)

_______________

Liu Er Mihou was the first to notice something happened. 

It’s been some years since his fight against Wukong, in which the Great Sage explained the best he could why he had to go through this pilgrimage and protect this monk. Mihou decided to give him one last chance and Wukong promised he will get home as soon as this Journey ended. Now Macaque is back on Flower Fruit Mountain hoping the King will keep his promise.

Macaque listens now and then in direction to the west, to know if the travel with the monk and the other pilgrims was almost done. The last time he listen what Wukong was up to, he was on his way to get his circlet removed by Guanyin after sealing the brotherhood in a scroll.

Finally! Wukong did kept his promise of getting back home after all of this was done! And about the brotherhood, well, Macaque wasn’t that sad about them. Sure they were friends, but not anymore, not after the fight against heaven and how they completely abandoned Wukong after it. Macaque still did try to find him and talked to him, even if the result was a smashed peach on the ground.

Mihou was still very conflicted about how to feel toward Wukong, they needed to have serious talk as soon as the King will be back on the mountain. But something wasn’t right, something was missing. Macaque couldn’t shake off this feeling of something missing, something big. Then he notice.

Wukong’s magic. He couldn’t feel it anymore.

Minutes ago he could feel it getting closer, feeling Wukong getting closer to Flower Fruit Mountain. But now, nothing. It vanished into thin air. And then he noticed the lack of sounds.

He could no longer hear Wukong's breath, or his heartbeat. Normally Macaque is able to hear it even if he is far away thanks to his six ears.

But now, there was only a deafening silence. He couldn’t understand, what just happened? 

Not wanting to alarm the other demon monkeys on FFM, he continues to listen, to find any hints, anything to ease his mind and to tell him that all of this is a cruel joke. 

His mind went blank. There was no way Wukong just disappeared like that. Yes, he still hasn't forgiven him for going with the pilgrims and how he abandoned him, but he never expected all of this.

_________

No more than an hour later, Nezha was at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain,asking to see Macaque or any monkey in charge of Wukong's kingdom.

Macaque was pulled back from his spiraling of thought when he noticed Nezha's presence.

Using his shadow to teleport to him, he told him he better have a good reason why he's there. 

Nezha told him about all the things the Jade Emperor said; how Wukong died from a powerful curse he got during his journey, that apparently one of the many demons he fought had a cursed weapon capable of slowly killing an immortal being . And now his staff became cursed and is protected by a powerful barrier.

“ …where is he?” Macaque ask. “I- I don’t know. They didn’t answer when I asked, only saying he got disposed of.” “What do you mean disposed of?! You’re telling me it’s only been an hour since he supposedly died and he’s already disposed of??!” Nezha sighed: “Look I know this sounds very bad, and I agree something is awry. That’s why I came here as soon as I could to tell you this. Apparently his body was emanating a cursed energy after dying so that’s why they acted quickly” “... this doesn’t make any sense.." macaque paused "and what do you mean by something is awry? I was sure you would agree to whatever Heaven decided to do”. “I am not completely blind to what they do. Not long before they announced this, I saw that a part of the celestial army left the palace in secret and they got back when the news was spread. Perhaps it is connected, perhaps it is not. But my intuition tells me something is just wrong.”

“...”

“I know we are not on good terms but I thought it would be correct to tell you all this. I need to go now , my condolence for your loss.”

Nezha left the mountain as quickly as he got there to go back to the celestial palace.

Macaque stayed in the same spot,paralysed, still processing all the informations. ________

The news spread like wildfire. And everyone was too scared to go near the mountain with the "cursed magic staff".

Time passed, and Mihou was still looking for Wukong whenever he could, while protecting and taking care of the kingdom left behind after the sudden departure of the King.

Au Masterpost

[avaredava]

Okay so I'm a stoner. My husband is a stoner. We often (everyday) fuck (like whores) while high so thats where these thoughts come from.

Let's imagine Suguru.

Best friend Suguru. You smoke all the time together. You're bitching about these men not giving good head. He disagrees. Skip to being on your back, legs spread open and pushed back. Suguru is feasting while you smoke a joint.

OR

Plug!Suguru, but you've probably known each other for a year. He just gets the best bud. You always share a joint - his treat, always free. But man you're so thankful. Skip to being on your knees, between his legs as he sits on the couch, maybe smoking, maybe taking pictures (if you like that, i sure do) while you throat him.

Am I a whore? Hopefully yes.

Kisses ❤️❤️

EEK thats literally such beautiful writing *i say as i slowly pull out my meat* (I'm a girl)

This is the first request and this is the second

୨୧・・・・୨୧

MDNI

Master list's

⯌ Sum

Stoner Suguru and his best friend little miss "I swear to god getting eaten out doesn't feel good!" and he might want to change your mind or head I guess you can say (pun intended)

⯌ Wc

1.2k

⯌Warnings

Drug use (weed), quick eat out with another guy that was lowkey cringe and not good at it, Suguru takes things into his own hands, oral!fem rec, clit stimulation, doing most of it high, some bondage, ate out on the bed in his room, pulling suguru's majestic hair 😖, they are high most of the time, so a shit ton of smoking, fingering, after care

୨୧・・・・୨୧

"Suguru fucking Geto get your ass in here!"

That's what you say to him more than you would like to admit. He takes a bunch of things from you ranging from your weed stash and your other pills to your panties and bras.

He came into your room with the whites of his eyes a bit red. Obvious of what he took. The idiot couldn't lie. "Mmm what's wrong pretty girl?" He mumbles with that stupid high smile on his face.

"Don't call me pretty girl. I'm having someone coming over. So you better not flirt with me. Because I want actually want to have sex." You say with a frown. It's been awhile and you've been horny.

"I can-"

"I'm not having sex with you, your my best friend and roommate and guess what else you are? High. Also I'm mad at you for stealing my shit so- get out." You push him out of your room and go to the front door to let the guy in.

He's tall, and pretty hot. Suguru is sitting on the couch eyeing him down. But he's to slug right now to say anything so he keeps smoking. You bring the boy in your room and you both undress.

He throws you on to the bed and he kisses down your body nothing romantic and then he gets to your pussy and sucks uncomfortably on your vagina no where close to your clit. He licks your folds nothing pleasureful.

You faked moaned try to please him more than yourself. "You close?" He said with a grin. Holy fuck you wanted to throw yourself off a balcony from this shit. This is so fucking disgusting and just overall, devastating for this man.

"Mhmm..?" You let out a sarcastic mhm and the idiot believed it. You let out a small cough to get attention and let out a short. "I came." It was an obvious lie to get him to piss off.

"Are you not gonna make me come to kitten?" What the fuck. "Uhm you can go. Maybe next time." (There will be no next time.) You practically kicked him out of the house and flopped back down with Suguru.

"Those moans were clearly fake." He bluntly states. You feel your face heat up with embarrassment. You were about to back yourself up but he cut you off. "I can make those pretty moans real."

That made you wet. No- soaked. Yes, he's your roommate, more so your best friend. But the way his eyes were so seductive, his soft hair your picturing your self grabbing as he eats you out.

But you do have a problem.

"Suguru no, I've never gotten good head. Yours won't be any better. So don't get your hopes up."

He chuckled with that handsome smile and his messy hair. His eyes were beet red but still so pretty. "If you let me..." He takes a puff. "I'll make you feel so good. I won't force you, you know I never will."

You sucked your breath in and considered. Maybe that tongue piercing might feel good on your pussy. "Fine. But this might ruin our friendship though." You say in a worried tone.

"Pretty, I want you more than just friends and I won't stop until I have you. I hope you know that." he says, in a sappy tone. Being sappy isn't like him but the more his eyes get red and the more inhales explains a lot.

He grabs your hand and brings you to his bedroom. It has band posters all over and a very black theme. You let him lay you flat on the bed and he gently kisses you.

"Good thing I have the munchies." He says in a shallow, joking voice. He kisses down your body after taking off your shirt. He gropes your tits rubbing the nipples.

He pulls down your pants and panties. He sniffs your pussy breathing in deeply. He sticks his tongue out then stops. You sigh disappointed. "I thought you were gonna make me feel good?" You say in a smug and annoyed tone.

You had a feeling this was gonna happen. They either don't know what to do when trying to eat out and just give up and just pull out their dick or just do it bad.

"I will don't worry..." He takes a joint and some weed from your dresser and your brows furrow. He rolls a joint up and lights the tip up and puts it into your mouth.

"Pretty girl I want you to smoke it at the same time. Get you a little high, hm?" He says in a seductive tone. You can never say no to that especially if you want release for your pussy and that tight knot in your stomach.

He kisses your pubic area then slowly kisses your folds. Since he's still high (you're sorta concerned about how much he took) but it's really lazy. He licks your slit, low and sensual. Something about this just made you more wet.

What the hell are you doing?

This is your best friend! Plus it's someone you live with. But all your thoughts crumble to ash as he latches onto your clit and you start to get high. For some reason it made you feel even better.

You were embarrassed to admit but this felt really fucking good. You let out a true moan for the first time being eaten out.

He shoved two of his long fingers inside with black finger nail paint. He found your spongy spot in practically a second. He attacked your g-spot with his fingers, while he sucked on your clit like he wanted to leave a hickey. (Maybe he did.)

Your mind began to get foggy the more you smoked. All you could feel is pleasure at this point. "S-Sugu..." Your eyes brimmed with tears. That was the most you could say or do then shake and moan.

"You close sweetheart?" First time you could never be disgusted by that sentence. You just whined louder as an answer you really couldn't answer. He chuckled into your pussy causing pleasurable vibrations.

The more you smoke the more you relax, so the more you can't run or move. The more you moan and holler. This feels like the best kind of torture.

You pull at his hair and he moans and squeezes his eyes shut. "God woman." He groans. He thrusts his fingers faster while he grins and shuts his eyes the more you pull the faster he trusts and abuses your sweet spot.

"Sugu!" You squeal as you squirt he latches on to your clit again making you practically scream. He massages your thighs with small rubs while he gently sucks.

He licks your juices off drunk on your taste. You feel your eyes get hazy and droopy with the lazy licks after the best fucking orgasm you ever had.

You eventually pass out. Maybe it was the weed or maybe the mind altering orgasm. But he grabbed a wet towel and gently dabbed your pussy making sure it's clean from your cum and his saliva.

He slides your pink lacy panties on and one of his shirts. He crawls up taking the joint out of your mouth and puts it on the night stand beside his bed. He holds you tight against him kissing your forehead.

He licked his lips still drunk on your taste. He pulled the blankets up and kissed your forehead one last time. He whispered into your ear gently trying not to wake you up.

"Is being ate out still not good?"

୨୧・・・・୨୧

[starrysan]

nouvelle vague

↳ ᴘᴜᴇʙʟᴏ [15]

masterlist || prev chap || next chap

pairing: korea local!yunho x new to city!reader [smau]

a/n: this ones sad.. sorry, not proofread

2nd person pov

after the long meeting with her boss and some agents from the other branches on a zoom call right after, you were exhausted. laying on your bed and scrolling on your phone. it was barely 3pm. you still weren't 100% sure what to do, but you had an idea. you called the only person you knew to call. "chris? you're still up?" you ask to which you get a slightly sleepy but awake chris answer.

"yeah I am what's up?." of course he was up.. typical crazy hours of the night awake chris bahng. "I think.. I know where im going to pick" you say closing your eyes to make sure this was the right decision. "oh that's grea-" he starts to say. "im coming home" you say before he could finish his own sentence. "oh that's great y/n" he replies after a moment of silence on his end. "you don't sound as happy as I thought you'd be" you reply. "well I am excited I promise. I just.. are you sure?"

"I thought it through and.. yeah im coming home chris" you say again. "I miss you a lot and.. as much as I know you won't admit it, I know you're struggling chris.. lix called me last night" chris curses slightly away from his speaker so you couldn't hear it but you obviously could. "what'd he say?" chris asks. "I mean a lot but basically what we talked about the other day. chris you know you don't have to hide anything from me"

"I know y/n but I know you love Korea.. it's all you talked about for the past year. are you sure you're making the right choice?" he asks, almost a bit nervously. "I had a lot of time to think.. and yeah I do. some things that happened only confirmed it. but anyway, I'm coming home flights in 2 days so I've got to pack. bye chris"

you hang up the phone and stare at your empty suitcases in front of you. or.. one slightly packed suitcase and 2 empty ones. you almost second guess yourself but stop your thoughts before going to start packing your things. you go easy packing clothes first. luckily it was still summer. no heavy jackets to pack.

you put in your shirts, pants, the skirt you wore when you first met san.. the pants yeosang and mingi insisted you bought. they were a strange shade of pink you'd never wear, but looking at them now, they were almost endearing. you finished packing most of your clothes before packing other things you brought or bought while in Korea.

you put in your polaroid camera. not before looking through all the photos you'd taken on them. the first photo you took with wooyoung and jongho after they picked you up, the street food with yeosang and mingi, han river and ice cream with san, ducks and the pretty picnic you had with seonghwa and hongjoong, seoul tower with yunho and san, the beach with yunho.. oh and of course how could you forget? the lock you had bought hoping to put it up with yunho.

you feel a tear drop onto the lock you grasped in your hand. "fuck" you mutter, wiping it away with your sleeve. you put it in your bag as well before covering it with some plushie mingi had bought you from a store in myeongdong. you were making the right choice. at least you thought you were. it was too late to think a coherent thought anyway.

fucking yunho. you think to yourself as you finished packing the second suitcase. you think about the kiss he so casually left on your cheek. like it was still there. it was like it stung your face. like a memory you only slightly wanted to get rid of. you didn't even realize how exhausted you were as you fall asleep on your packed bag and only wake up when you see your friends through the ring camera. shit your friends.. you didn't even tell them...

you quickly buzz them up, and panic slightly. what would you do? how would you tell them? what would they say? what if they hated you after? your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell which you stood up to go answer. "hi guys" you say quietly as the seven boys pile in. they notice your bags on the floor.

"so what'd you decide to do?" wooyoung asks, breaking the silence first as they were all either at your table, on the floor, or on your bed. "I-" you start. but your mouth goes dry, you lose your words, you forget how to fucking speak. even though they said this was your choice, which it was, you still felt so fucking guilty for leaving them.

but chris- you didn't know what to do not like you had a choice anyway as your passport sat on the table with your boarding pass you had printed earlier that morning nestled inside it. it seemed to go unnoticed by the boys at first till- "ah.. back to Aussie Australia?" mingi said, trying to make you laugh when he saw the look on your face.

"um.. yeah back to-" your voice broke.. you couldn't even say it out loud as you feel your tears start back up again. "Im sorry" you said. you didn't even know what you were apologizing for. going home? for crying and absolutely falling apart in front of them? for not telling them till now? you didn't know.

seonghwa gets up from the floor and hugs you first. you two weren't as close as say you and wooyoung and jongho were but that hug alone was comfort enough. you cling onto his arms like he would vanish if you let go and sobbed into his shirt. probably drenching it but you didn't even care. the rest followed close behind. even jongho who you knew hated physical contact was joined in on the hug.

after you calmed down a bit and got some water yeosang grabbed from your fridge you sit back down and collect yourself. "yeah i'm going back I think seeing how everything's going to play out I think its my best option" the boys nodded. no one said anything not really sure what to say anyway. "if that's what you have to do then its what you have to do." yeosang says. "when's your flight?" san asked. "tomorrow" you say quietly.

"TOMORROW?" wooyoung practically yells which you nod. "but we cant even have a goodbye party or anything?!" mingi exclaims after. "its ok" you say simply. "its not goodbye.. its see you later" you say to which jongho side eyes you. "cringe as hell" he says and you laugh. you laugh for the first time in 4 days.

"did you tell yunho?" san asked which made the room go silent again. "I tried texting.. and calling he never responded" you sighed. maybe it was for the better? you didn't want to think about it. the yunho topic was soon glazed over as everyone helped you pack before leaving in the late hours of the night everyone giving you hugs and saying goodbye one by one. "don't crash the plane" jongho says to which you laugh and flick his forehead.

your left in silence once again as the clock strikes 1:30am. your flight was for 10am. wooyoung insisted he drove you but you declined, not wanting him to mess up his sleep schedule even more. you try to get sleep which barely worked and you were out the door by 7:30am.

you put your house key in a box in your landlord's office, thanking him before you start your walk to the subway to get to the airport. before you could comprehend what was happening, yunho appeared infront of you, looking absolutely out of breath. "yunho?" you say confused.

extras!

I honestly dont like writing in anything pov other than 3rd but I did this in 2nd person pov very deliberately so it wasn't in third person where you're just watching this unfold from the outside, or 1st person where you're in it, its in 2nd person where its like you're right there but you cant change anything about it. (I love deliberate storytelling mwahaha).

ty for reading!

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[deuxadeux-if]

heyyyyyyyy

hi omg. sorry i have been literally radio silent eeeerk. first and foremost thank all of you who messaged me to let me know about dashingdon shutting down. i haven’t logged in here in a hot minute, and it surprised me how many of you reached out. thank you :,)

bullet points on ray’s life:

graduated college! i now have a bachelor’s degree.

work is going fine! i am a full-time bartender. it’s fine, not a permanent fit for me probably but it’s okay for now.

i miss writing, but i don’t have much time to commit to it. i haven’t written anything in two (maybe even three?) months. this is partially because i’m trying to take a break to do other creative things, and partly because i love writing full-time. i’m not sure how to move forward writing in spare moments—the thought of doing that makes me a little sad. as such, i am avoiding it for the moment. lol.

my birthday is in a little less than 2 months. i will be 23! it is weird. i still feel like a teenager sometimes. sometimes even younger.

since i’m not writing at the moment, i spend my free time drawing, reading, and listening to albums. i also go on walks in the woods with my boyfriend when we’re both off work.

now about dashingdon. i thought about it quite a bit for the past week or two, and i don’t think i will be returning to deux à deux for the foreseeable future. i haven’t deleted any of my files, so it’s all there if i want to return to it at any point—but i think it will be a while before i even consider picking it back up again. a few reasons for this:

i need a much, much more concrete outline for the rest of the story, and as of right now, i don’t know what that would look like.

i don’t have much free time, and i have very little money. it feels best for me, at least right now, to fill my spare minutes with hobbies that are private to keep my sanity intact lol.

i want to spend 2025 thinking about writing more than actually writing. i have done a lot of speed-writing, just putting words to the page and blazing through—it feels like a good time to practice other skills. like sitting…thinking…stewing. i think this will help in the long run.

deux à deux needs to be consolidated. i think there only need to be 4 love interests, max, and i need to solidify exactly what parts of MC are set in stone (personality? gender? age? etc.)*

this is embarrassing but it’s fine. i need a better backbone when it comes to making stuff. i tend to accept all critique as essential. this is one way to go about creating things, but i don’t think it’s how i want to. i would prefer to make stuff that i just like, exactly how i want to make it. whatever response it garners is just how it is. i need to cultivate that vibe before putting deux à deux out there again.

*i doubt i would ever make MC genderlocked for deux à deux, though. not really my vibe.

so! since i’m not going to be writing deux à deux for i-don’t-know-how-long, i will not be transferring it over to the other site (i forget what it’s called) that is replacing dashingdon. i’m sorry if this is horrible news—i was pretty committed, initially, to writing all of deux à deux within the year once i started. then i graduated college and realized that (unfortunately) money was real and i had literally none of it and no real income. so, for now, real work it is—writing will happen when it’s a good time, but i’m not rushing it.

sorry again for the unfortunate update, but i figured it would be better to be straightforward. thanks again to all of you who reached out, it was really sweet to see all of your messages :,)

hope to see you all again soon.

— ray

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 9

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours  @sukunasstomachtongue @cosmic-lovr @imm0rtalbutterfly @kyo-kyo1

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Chapter 9: Death or Rebirth

I woke up in the hospital again. The sterile scent of antiseptic and faint beeping of machines told me where I was before I even opened my eyes. When I did, the first thing I saw was Yuuji sitting in the chair beside me. His head was bowed, shoulders slumped in a way that made him look so small—so broken—that my heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

I blinked hard, hoping I’d imagined him, and closed my eyes again, willing myself back to darkness.

The reprieve didn’t last long.

The door swung open, and I heard heavy footsteps—one set deliberate, the other storming with anger. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Toji. I could practically feel the heat of his glare, his frustration filling the room like smoke. Satoru followed close behind, quieter, but I knew he was watching too.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Toji’s voice hit like a hammer, sharp and unrelenting. “This is twice now. Twice in barely two weeks. What are you trying to do, kill yourself?”

It was like the words tore something open inside me. Before I knew it, I was shouting back, my voice raw. “What if I am?” the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice was raw, rough from everything I’d been bottling up. I didn’t care that he was pissed. Hell, I didn’t care about anything anymore.

The room went dead silent. I could feel the eyes on me—Yuuji, Satoru, Toji. They were all waiting for something. Waiting for me to break, to explain myself. But I wasn’t going to. I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

Toji stepped forward, his face hard and unforgiving. “You’re not fucking with me like this, Sukuna. I get it, you’re in pain. We all are. But this—” he gestured around the room, his eyes burning with anger and something else, something softer that I wasn’t sure I wanted to see. “This isn’t the way to handle it. You’re hurting everyone around you, but especially Yuuji. You don’t get to keep doing this to him.”

I glanced at Yuuji, his face a mask of exhaustion and worry. His eyes were red, his posture slumped. 

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve me.

But still, I couldn’t stop myself. The words came tumbling out like a dam breaking, uncontrollable and sharp.

“Maybe I don’t deserve anything, Toji. Maybe I don’t deserve him or any of you,” I muttered bitterly, turning away from them. “I’m just tired of everything. Tired of pretending.”

Satoru spoke up, his voice softer than usual, almost like he was trying to tiptoe around me. “We’re not asking you to pretend, Sukuna. We’re asking you to let us help. But you have to want it first.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Help? You think you can fix me? You can’t fix this, Satoru. No one can.”

“You’re right,” Toji cut in. “We can’t fix it for you. But we can help you get the fucking help you need.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. There was no escaping them. No escaping the reality of what I had to face.

I closed my eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on me. My mind was swirling, a chaotic mess of guilt, regret, and anger. But underneath it all was something else. Something softer. A flicker of hope.

A hope I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. “I don’t know how to fix myself.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Satoru said, his voice steady and reassuring.

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But the fear—the deep, gnawing fear that I was beyond saving—was louder than anything else.

“I don’t know if I can let anyone in again,” I muttered, my voice breaking. “Not after everything I’ve done. Not after what I’ve lost.”

Toji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to be perfect, Sukuna. Hell, none of us are. But you gotta stop running from it. From the people who care about you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in my throat.

Yuuji finally spoke, his voice small but steady. “I just want you to be okay, Sukuna. We all do.”

His words hit me harder than anything else. I wanted to lash out, to say something cutting and cruel. But I couldn’t. Not this time.

I didn’t have the strength to keep pushing everyone away anymore.

I shot up off the bed, my heart racing, the anger and fear bubbling to the surface. "I'm not going," I spat, voice shaky but defiant. I wasn’t about to let them control me. Not again.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "Don't do this, Sukuna," he warned, stepping forward, his voice steady but carrying the weight of an unspoken truth. "It's gonna make shit worse if you keep this up."

I took a step back, my chest tightening, the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing over me. 

I can’t go. 

The idea of being locked away, stripped of my choices, made my skin crawl. "I said no. I don't need any of that shit."

Toji, who had been standing in the corner, arms crossed and eyes focused, now moved closer. His voice was low, but the authority in it made me stiffen. "You need help, whether you like it or not. You’re pushing everyone away, and it’s not gonna end well if you keep doing this."

"I don't care," I muttered, my hands trembling as I balled them into fists. "I don’t care what any of you think. Just leave me alone."

Satoru’s eyes softened, but his tone was firm. "You're not okay, and you're not handling this alone. You need help, even if you don't want it. We're doing this for you, not to you."

I was shaking now, not from the cold or the exhaustion, but from the weight of the truth they were forcing on me. My mind was a blur of thoughts, and the words felt like they were tearing me apart.

I locked eyes with Toji. "You think I want this? You think I want to be like this?!" The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I hate it. I hate everything about myself right now, but I'm not going to some fucking psych ward."

Toji didn’t back down. "Then what the hell do you think you're doing? You’re just running, hiding from it all."

I turned away, unable to look at him anymore. "I'm not running," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I just... I don’t know how to face it. How to face all of this."

Satoru stepped in closer, his voice quiet but insistent. "We don't have to force you, Sukuna. But we will take you there if it means you'll get better."

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. I wanted to scream, to fight, to push them all away. But there was something deeper—something broken inside me—that knew they were right.

I didn’t have a choice, not really.

I stared at them, my mind a mess of anger and fear, the words I wanted to say, the words I needed to say, stuck in my throat. My fists clenched at my sides, the tension building as I looked at Satoru, Toji, and now Geto, who had just strolled in. The weight of their gazes felt suffocating.

I wanted to scream at them, tell them to leave me the hell alone, but my voice was low, barely a whisper. "I'm not some head fuck, man," I muttered, my eyes flicking to the floor. "I’m..." I trailed off, unable to finish.

Geto’s voice cut through the silence. "You’re an addict with mental health problems, Sukuna. You need help. You know this."

I shot him a look, feeling my insides twist. 

Of course they would say that. 

They were all on the same page, ganging up on me. They didn’t know. They didn’t get it.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but all that came out was a pained laugh. "I’d rather join Jin than do that," I said, the words slipping from my mouth before I could stop them. The thought hung in the air, dark and suffocating. The weight of my brother’s death—the guilt that had eaten me alive ever since—made it feel like the only way out.

The room went still, the tension thick. I could see the shock on their faces, but I didn’t care. Maybe they’d finally understand me.

Satoru’s voice broke the silence, his tone more forceful now. "You don’t have a choice, Sukuna." He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine. "They’ve done up the paperwork. You’re going whether you like it or not."

I felt like the walls were closing in on me. 

This wasn’t my decision anymore. 

They had made it for me. It didn’t matter what I wanted or how much I fought against it—they were forcing me down a path I couldn’t escape from.

I opened my mouth to protest again, but the words died in my throat. I looked at them—their faces filled with concern and frustration—and realized they weren’t trying to control me. They weren’t trying to hurt me. They were trying to save me.

But I didn’t want saving.

 I didn’t want any of this.

I just wanted to be left alone, to disappear into the darkness.

I scanned the room frantically, my mind racing.

 I need to get out of here. 

The walls were closing in, the sterile white room suffocating me, and I couldn't breathe. I couldn’t stand the feeling of being trapped, controlled. I had to leave. Now.

I pushed myself off the bed, my legs shaky but determined. I stumbled toward the door, but before I could get more than a few steps, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. 

Toji.

"Sit down, Sukuna," his voice was low, firm, and I could feel the weight of his hand as he gently but forcefully pushed me back toward the bed. He wasn’t letting me leave. Not like this.

I whipped my head around, my eyes locking with Gojo’s. His usual confident smirk was replaced by something closer to concern—something I wasn’t ready to deal with. He stood beside Toji, blocking my escape, both of them creating an impenetrable wall.

Yuuji was still in the corner of the room, staring at me. His face was a mix of disbelief and hurt, and I could see the silent question in his eyes. 

Why are you doing this, Sukuna?

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. I wasn’t doing this for anyone else. I was doing it because I had nothing left.

“Geto,” Yuuji finally spoke, his voice breaking the silence, “What’s going on? What’s happening to him?”

Geto sighed, his tone calm but with an edge I hadn’t heard before. “Yuuji, just step outside for a second. We need to talk.”

Yuuji shook his head, his hands clenched into fists. “I’m not going anywhere. He’s my brother. I’m not leaving him like this.”

A nurse walked into the room at that moment, sensing the tension. She glanced from Toji and Gojo to Geto and Yuuji, clearly trying to assess the situation. Her eyes flicked to me, and her face softened in sympathy, but there was something in her gaze that made me feel like a caged animal. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked, her voice tentative.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

The room felt like it was spinning, the lights blurring at the edges of my vision. I wanted to scream, to push everyone away. I wanted them to leave me alone. 

Just let me go.

Toji’s voice broke through the haze. “Get the staff to check on him. We need to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

I looked up at him, my vision blurring once again. “I’m fine,” I muttered, though I knew I wasn’t. I wasn’t fine. I hadn’t been fine in months.

Gojo took a step forward, his eyes narrowed, though the concern was still there. “Sukuna… Don’t do this. You know they’re just trying to help you.”

But it didn’t feel like help. It felt like a trap. A cage.

I looked around the room again, my mind screaming for a way out. But there was no escape. Not now. Not here.

I stood there frozen, my chest tight, heart pounding in my ears.

 I need to get out. 

Every part of me screamed to run, but I couldn’t even move my legs. It was like they were chained to the floor, heavy, useless.

The nurse, who had stepped back to give some space, looked at me with sympathy in her eyes, but it wasn’t the kind of sympathy I wanted.

 I didn’t want anyone’s pity.

 I wanted to be left the hell alone.

Gojo stepped closer, his gaze firm but tinged with something softer beneath the surface. "Sukuna... don’t make this harder than it has to be," he said, his voice steady, though I could tell he was trying to keep his own frustration in check. I could feel the tension radiating off of him and Toji, both of them not budging an inch. The walls were closing in. There was no way out.

I finally broke my silence, my voice rough, like it was being dragged out of me. "You don’t get it," I spat. “I don’t need your fucking help. I need to get out. I don’t belong here.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t back off. "Yeah, well, we’ve all been there. But that’s not what’s happening now, Sukuna." He shot a glance at Toji, who was still silently standing guard, his arms crossed, a sharp look in his eyes. "You don’t get a say in this. You’re going to the psych ward."

My chest tightened further at the words.

 Psych ward. 

The idea of being stuck in there, being forced to confront all this… pain, this guilt, this fucking endless spiral of shit—it made my stomach churn. The walls of the room seemed to get even tighter, the air thinner.

“No.” I gritted out, voice low and trembling with anger. “I won’t go.”

Toji’s hand landed on my shoulder again, the pressure grounding but suffocating at the same time. "You’re not in a position to make demands right now, Sukuna," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, but the weight of his words hit me like a punch in the gut.

I tried to jerk away from him, but my body betrayed me. My muscles were too weak, too drained. 

I couldn’t fight back anymore.

Yuuji stepped forward, his voice breaking through the tension in the room. “Please, Sukuna,” his eyes were filled with raw emotion. "I don’t want to lose you. You’ve gotta let us help you.”

I looked at him, and it felt like a knife was twisting in my chest. Yuuji was my brother—he had every right to be angry, to be upset. But I couldn’t handle his concern, his desperate need for me to be something I couldn’t be. Something I didn’t know how to be anymore.

He doesn’t understand.

"I don’t need your help, Yuuji," I muttered, the words tasting bitter as they left my mouth. "I’m just a fucking mess. I’m not who you think I am."

Yuuji flinched like I’d slapped him, and I immediately regretted saying it. But it was too late. The damage was done.

Toji’s voice broke the silence again, more forceful this time. “You need to face the truth, Sukuna. You’ve been running from it for too long. All of us have seen it. We’re not going to let you destroy yourself anymore. Not like this.”

I stared at Toji, fury mixing with a deep, hollow emptiness inside me. “And what if I don’t want to be saved, huh? What if I don’t give a shit anymore?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I could see it in their eyes. They were worried. They were angry. But most of all, they were disappointed. And I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear the idea of letting them down.

I turned my back to them, stepping toward the far side of the room, a tear slipping from my eye that I didn’t even realize had fallen.

 I had no place to go.

 I didn’t know what I was even fighting for anymore.

Kenjaku’s voice came then, steady and calm, the kind of tone that always felt like he was looking at me like I was some puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet. "You’re going, Sukuna. It’s not up for discussion. Do you think this is some kind of joke?"

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breath, trying to stop the world from spinning. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to face this. I didn’t want to be seen.

 But they weren’t leaving me any choice.

“I’m not going to make it out of this,” I muttered, almost to myself. “I can’t.”

But no one heard me. They were already planning, already moving in to take control of my life. And I hated it. I hated feeling this powerless.

I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hide anymore.

“I swear, if you force this on me, I’ll make it my mission to be worse off,” I spat, my voice shaking with equal parts defiance and exhaustion. The words echoed in the room like a dare, and for a moment, no one said anything.

I didn’t even see Choso walk in.

The first thing I felt was his fist slamming into my face, my head snapping to the side from the force of it. Pain exploded across my cheek, and before I could process it, another hit followed, sharper, harder.

“You’re so determined to kill yourself? Then do it, Sukuna!” Choso’s voice roared, loud enough to drown out the sound of blood rushing in my ears. His breath was ragged, his face twisted in fury.

The pain from Choso’s fist hitting my face was sharp, but it was almost a relief. It snapped me out of the haze I’d been sinking into. I staggered back, feeling the sting of the impact across my cheek. My head throbbed, and for a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. But his words, those cut deeper than any punch ever could.

“You’re worthless. You don’t mean shit.”

It was like the truth was slapping me in the face over and over again, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself feel it. 

Finally, someone who understands.

I stood there, dazed, not sure how to react. I was pissed, but part of me felt... liberated by the anger Choso had thrown at me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was beyond saving. Maybe all this fucking pain and guilt I kept drowning myself in... was deserved.

Was I really just wasting everyone’s time?

I looked at Choso, who was standing there, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with the emotion that mirrored mine. There was something cold and final in his gaze, a kind of resignation I couldn’t ignore.

"You think you’re the only one hurting?" Choso’s voice was low, but there was a tremor in it, like he was holding back more than just anger. "You think you’re the only one who’s lost someone? You’re not. But you’re fucking pathetic if you think you’re the only one with a reason to fall apart."

His words hit harder than the punch, and for a second, it felt like I was being gutted. He was right. Everyone was hurting—Yuuji, Choso, all of them. And here I was, selfishly drowning in my own misery, shutting them out.

But then, something twisted in my gut.

 I didn’t care.

I couldn’t care about their pain when I didn’t even know how to handle my own anymore. Why should I fix myself for them?

"You don’t get it," I spat, trying to steady myself, but my legs were shaky, and my head was still reeling from the blow. "You think I give a shit about any of that? I don’t. I’m done pretending."

Choso took a step closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “Then do it. End it. I won’t stop you. But don’t expect anyone to fucking care when you do.”

The words hit hard—harder than they should’ve, because they forced me to think about everything.

 What if I really did end it?

 What would they think? What would Yuuji think? What about... Y/N?

Would she be better off without me?

The thought lingered, and I felt a hollow pit open up in my chest. The anger that had surged through me now dulled, leaving a cold emptiness behind.

I wanted to fight back. I wanted to snap at Choso, to tell him he was wrong, that he didn’t understand. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

Because a part of me knew he was right.

 I was at the edge, and I didn’t even know if I wanted to step back.

Toji, Gojo, and Kenjaku stayed silent for a moment, watching the exchange unfold. It was clear they didn’t want to get involved in this—this raw, ugly part of me that I tried so hard to hide from them. I wanted to break, wanted to shatter in front of them, but I couldn’t.

"You’re gonna regret this," I muttered, feeling the familiar spiral of helplessness and anger closing in again. "All of you. You’re gonna regret trying to save me."

Choso just stood there, his eyes unwavering, like he was daring me to push him away. "I don’t give a shit if you regret it or not, Sukuna," he said, voice cold. "But know this: you’ll never be free if you keep running from everything, including yourself."

The room was quiet for a moment as those words hung in the air, heavy with truth. I wanted to scream, to shout that I didn’t need this shit, didn’t need any of them. But instead, I stood there, frozen, caught between the desire to escape and the reality that I didn’t know how to anymore.

It was like I was being torn apart, each side of me pulling in a different direction. One part of me wanted to run, to escape the people who cared too much, who expected too much. And the other part… the other part just wanted to be understood, to finally let go of the pain that had been eating at me for so long.

Maybe I was just too broken to be fixed.

Choso’s words echoed in my mind, and as much as I hated to admit it, they stuck with me. I couldn’t keep running.

The cold, sterile walls of the psych ward felt like they were closing in on me.

 Two weeks. 

Two weeks of confinement. Two weeks of therapy sessions that felt more like forced interrogations than healing.

I sat in the same shitty chair, staring at the therapist in front of me, who was droning on about my "emotions" and "coping mechanisms" like I actually gave a damn. Her voice was just background noise, blending into the constant ringing in my ears. The withdrawal symptoms were unbearable—my skin felt too tight, my stomach twisted into knots, and the restless energy in my veins made it impossible to sit still for long.

"You’ve been here for 24 hours, Sukuna," she said, tapping her pen against her notepad. "How are you feeling?"

How the fuck do you think I feel?

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my composure, but the sharp ache in my chest threatened to spill over. "I feel like shit," I muttered, shifting in my seat, wishing for a fucking cigarette. Anything to take the edge off.

She didn’t flinch. “What’s bothering you the most right now?”

Everything.

 The question was almost laughable. The cravings, the guilt, the loneliness... the constant feeling of being trapped in my own mind. But I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing all that.

“I just wanna go,” I said, my voice low, desperate. “I need to get out of here.”

She scribbled something on her notepad, her expression neutral. “I understand that this is difficult, but you’re here for your own safety, Sukuna. You’ve made it clear that you’ve been struggling with self-destructive behavior and substance abuse. We need to work through that.”

I rolled my eyes, though my hands were trembling slightly, betraying me. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this shit before.”

The therapist leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. “Have you been feeling any suicidal thoughts since you arrived here?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut, the reminder of how far I’d fallen in such a short time. 

Am I still suicidal? 

I didn’t know anymore. The numbness in my chest made it hard to feel anything at all, but the constant pull to just give in, to end it all, never fully left.

“I don’t know,” I finally muttered, trying to avoid her gaze. “Maybe. I just wanna get out.”

Her silence was suffocating, as though she was trying to read into every word, every movement. “I know it’s tough right now,” she said, breaking the stillness. “But the important thing is that you’re here. You’re taking the first step toward getting better.”

Better?

 The thought was almost laughable. Could I ever really get better?

I didn’t respond. Instead, I looked at the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds until this session would finally be over.

 Two weeks. I can’t do two weeks.

Just as the session was about to end, I leaned forward, my voice almost pleading. “Listen, I don’t need therapy, I just need to get out. I don’t belong here.”

The therapist didn’t even flinch. She stood, signaling the end of the session. “I think we’re done for today. We’ll talk more tomorrow. And remember, Sukuna, you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

I could feel the anger bubbling inside me again, but I swallowed it down. 

I don’t need help.

 I didn’t care what they thought or what they were trying to force on me. I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t some broken kid looking for someone to fix him.

As I walked out of the room, I could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. The staff, the patients—everyone in this goddamn place. But it didn’t matter.

 I’m not staying here.

I was already planning my escape.

I walked into the common area, the sterile, off-white walls feeling like they were closing in on me with every step. The soft hum of fluorescent lights above, the distant murmurs of people talking, the occasional clink of something being set down—it all felt so... lifeless.

I could see a few patients scattered around the room, some playing cards, others half-heartedly flipping through magazines. The smell of disinfectant mixed with the faint scent of sweat from someone who had probably been in this place too long. I hated it here. Everything about it. But I had no choice. Not yet.

I could head over to the piano in the corner, its dark wood calling to me with a promise of something familiar, something I could lose myself in. But the idea of sitting there, forcing my fingers to move across the keys in some mechanical way—it didn't feel right. The music wasn't a relief anymore, just another reminder of everything I used to enjoy before I fucked it all up.

I glanced at the group of people in the corner, playing cards. There was an older man who looked like he’d seen better days, a young woman with wild eyes who kept glancing at the clock, and a guy who looked like he had just crawled out of a hole—scruffy, disheveled, probably on something.

Do I really want to talk to them?

The answer was simple. No, I didn’t care about their stories, their issues. I was here because I had to be, not because I wanted to make friends with anyone who couldn’t get their shit together either. They all seemed like they were here for their own reasons, their own battles. And that’s all they were to me—battles. I didn’t need more.

Instead, I leaned against the wall and folded my arms, staring out the window at the dull, overcast sky. It felt like everything was bleeding together, just a blur of nothingness. I was just another fuck-up, stuck in the same cycle, same pain.

I was still trying to figure out how I ended up here, why the hell I had to be the one to go through this.

Then, I heard the shuffle of footsteps behind me. 

Fuck.

I didn’t need anyone talking to me right now. I didn’t want to deal with anyone, least of all some well-meaning idiot who thought they could help me. But when I turned around, I saw her.

It was Y/N. Her presence hit me like a punch to the chest.

She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, her gaze locked on me. The last time I saw her... well, it wasn’t good.

What the hell was she doing here?

I swallowed hard, the dryness in my throat making it even harder to breathe. She looked the same, just as beautiful as always, but there was something in her eyes—something that made it impossible for me to hide from the weight of everything I had done.

"You're here..." I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N stood there for a moment, her eyes searching mine, like she was trying to figure out whether I was even worth talking to. I couldn’t blame her—who in their right mind would want to deal with someone like me?

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze dropped to the floor, and I could see the hesitation in her posture. She was torn between walking away and facing the wreck that I had become. I didn’t deserve her attention, not now, not after everything. I could feel myself spiraling again, that familiar pull to shut everything down, to turn it all off.

But then she spoke.

"I came to see how you're doing." Her voice was quiet, soft, almost like she was afraid of what she'd find. "I heard about what happened... after you left."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the way her words hit me. She didn’t get it. 

No one gets it.

"You shouldn't have come," I muttered, shaking my head. "You should be anywhere but here, Y/N. I’m a fucking mess, and you don't need to be around for any of this."

She took a step closer, her expression unwavering, like she didn’t believe a single word I was saying. "I’m here because... because I care," she said, each word laced with a kind of tenderness I didn’t deserve. "And I think you know that."

Care? 

I almost laughed at the thought. 

How could she care about me when I couldn’t even care about myself?

"Don’t, Y/N. Don’t do this," I said, my voice shaking despite my best effort to sound indifferent. "You can’t save me. No one can. I’m too far gone for that."

She was quiet for a beat, and I could see the conflict in her eyes—the desire to help me, to pull me out of this dark hole I’d dug myself into, and the realization that maybe she was too late. But then she spoke again, this time with more conviction.

"I’m not trying to save you," she said. "I just want you to know that you’re not alone. No matter how fucked up everything is, you don’t have to face it by yourself. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

I couldn’t breathe. The words hit me harder than anything else had since I’d been locked in this place. I didn’t deserve her loyalty. I didn’t deserve any of this. But here she was, standing in front of me, offering something I wasn’t sure I could accept.

"You don’t have to do this," I said again, my voice almost pleading. "You don’t owe me anything."

She shook her head. "I’m not doing it because I owe you, Sukuna. I’m doing it because... I want to."

There was a long silence between us. The kind of silence that made everything in the room feel impossibly heavy, like the weight of my past was suffocating me. I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t know if I could even let myself believe she was serious.

But in that moment, as I stood there, trying to process everything she had just said, I realized something I hadn’t let myself acknowledge before.

Maybe she was the one thing I could hold onto.

But I couldn’t say that. Not yet.

I turned away, rubbing my face with both hands, trying to clear the clouded thoughts in my head. I couldn’t get caught up in this. I couldn’t let her in, not after everything I’d done.

"I don’t know what you want from me," I muttered, my voice barely audible. "But I’m not gonna get better. Not like this. Not here."

She didn’t respond right away, but I could feel her standing there, still watching me. I could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind, trying to figure out the next move. I didn’t make it easy for her, did I?

"You don’t have to be perfect," she finally said, her voice quiet but steady. "You just have to try. And you have to let people help you. You don’t have to do this alone."

I closed my eyes, fighting the tightness in my chest. My hand gripped the edge of the piano, and I tried to steady myself, not wanting to let the weight of her words drag me under. But it was getting harder to keep pretending that I didn’t care.

She really did care.

And maybe—just maybe—I needed to start caring too.

When I opened my eyes again, she was still there, waiting for me to say something, anything. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, I looked at her and nodded, though I didn’t say a word. It was all I could do.

Maybe this was the first step. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely beyond saving.

Y/N’s expression faltered for a brief moment, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She just stared at me, her eyes searching for any sign of weakness, some crack in the armor I was desperately trying to keep up. But I wouldn’t let her see it. Not now.

Her jaw tightened, and for a split second, I thought she might argue. I thought she might try to push through whatever wall I’d just erected. But instead, she nodded slowly, as though my words had made some kind of final sense. 

Maybe she finally realized that I was too far gone.

"I’m not gonna fight you on this, Sukuna," she said quietly. Her voice had lost its softness, the warmth draining out of it as if I had sucked all of it out. "But if you ever change your mind... if you ever stop pushing everyone away..." Her voice cracked slightly, but she cleared her throat, steadying herself. "You know where to find me."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

I just watched as she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing in the quiet of the room.

Good. Let her go.

The moment she left, the weight in my chest didn’t lift. If anything, it grew heavier. But I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t.

I’d pushed her away, just like I’d pushed everyone else away. 

But what if I really did need her?

No.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking the thought from my mind. I couldn’t afford to think like that. Not now. Not when everything was falling apart.

Maybe one day I’d wake up and realize I made the wrong choice. But that was a problem for future Sukuna. Right now, I need to get through the day.

I walked over to the piano, my fingers grazing the keys. My body was aching, the withdrawal pulling at me, making every movement feel like it took twice as much effort as it should. But I kept going. I had no other choice.

I couldn’t afford to care. Not about her. Not about anything.

I got up from the piano after a long moment of playing

I needed a smoke, anything to take the edge off. I was approached by this weird chick. I think I know her from high school.

 Selene.

 She strolled up to me with her bubbly ass voice. “I got the plug in here.”  I smiled “ In here people are dealing shit. Wild shit. What you got?” “Whatever you need.” She watched me with a smile. 

I found myself sitting there in her room, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls, I could feel the rush of anticipation building in me.

 I’d hit rock bottom a thousand times before, but this felt different.

 A part of me told me that I was spiraling deeper, that this wasn’t just a bad habit anymore—it was my new reality. But I didn’t care.

Selenr was sitting on the bed, her hands busy with something I didn’t quite pay attention to. She was talking, but I barely registered the words, too focused on the dull ache in my muscles and the gnawing emptiness inside me that only the thought of drugs could fill. 

She said whatever you need, and I needed something to take the edge off.

I let my fingers drum absently against my thigh, my eyes trained on her as she pulled out the little bag and spread the contents on the table. She looked at me, a smirk on her lips.

"You sure you want to go down this road?" she asked, a playful tone in her voice. But there was a look in her eyes—something knowing, like she could see through the mask I wore every damn day.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. She could see it too—the exhaustion, the desperation, the parts of me that had long given up.

 Selene knew the deal.

 We’d crossed paths before, back in high school. We never really hung out, but I knew her type—dangerous, alluring, and always just a step away from trouble.

She slid me a couple Xanax in front of me, and I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed it, the familiar coolness of the tablet comforting in my hand.

"You should really think about rehab," she said, her voice suddenly serious, cutting through the fog of my thoughts.

I chuckled darkly, shaking my head. "And do what? Sit around and pretend everything’s fine?" My words came out sharp, but the pain underneath them felt deeper than any of the substances I could take. 

What the hell was I supposed to fix?

She didn’t answer. Instead, she just sat there, watching me with those cold eyes, her own hands working to prepare the next dose. There was a tension in the room now, like the air was thick with the weight of everything I was avoiding—everything I had been avoiding for so long.

I popped the pill in my mouth without a second thought, the bitterness lingering in my throat as I swallowed.

For a second, the world stopped spinning.

The tightness in my chest eased, the gnawing anxiety slipping away as the drugs started to work their magic. I leaned back against the bed, letting the wave of relief wash over me. Everything was quieter now. I didn’t feel the need to think. I didn’t feel the need to be anything other than numb.

Selene looked at me, her lips curling into a satisfied grin. "There you go," she said softly. "See? It’s not so bad."

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The Xanax was already working its way through my system, leaving a dull haze in its wake.

Maybe I didn’t need to fix anything. Maybe it was easier to stay broken.

As I sat there, fading in and out of lucidity, I thought about Y/N again.

 I shouldn’t have pushed her away. 

But it was too late now, wasn’t it? I didn’t deserve her, not with the mess I’d become.

And yet, that thought lingered—like a whisper in the back of my mind

As I leaned in and kissed Selene, something about it felt off—yet familiar. 

Maybe it was the Xanax, or maybe it was the desperate need to feel something, anything that wasn’t the weight of my own brokenness. 

Her lips were soft, and for a second, everything seemed quieter. The chaos, the guilt, the voices in my head—they all faded into the background, leaving just the feeling of her against me.

She kissed me back, but it wasn’t passionate or full of fire. It was numb, like we were both just going through the motions, seeking solace in something temporary. I couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same way, if this kiss was just another escape for her too.

I pulled away, breathless, but not from desire. From the haze. The drug was starting to sink deeper into my system, and my head was swirling in a way that made everything seem surreal.

"You're not even here, are you?" Selene whispered, a slight smile playing on her lips, as if she could see right through me.

I didn’t answer, just stared at her, barely registering her words. 

What the fuck was I doing?

This wasn’t who I was. Or maybe it was. Maybe the version of me that existed now was just a reflection of my choices. My actions.

I stood up, stepping back from her, trying to shake off the fog that had settled over me. 

I wasn’t supposed to be here, not like this.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice a little softer now, a little more concerned.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I moved towards the door, my legs unsteady as I tried to walk it off. I felt a strange urgency, like I needed to be somewhere, anywhere but here.

I couldn’t stay here with her. Not when I couldn’t even face myself.

I stumbled out into the hallway, leaving Selene behind. The high was starting to wear off, and with it came the reality of what I was running from.

Fuck this shit. Screw everything. I didn’t know how to fix myself.

I trudged back to my room, the sterile walls closing in around me as I stepped inside. The quiet was suffocating, and I hated it. No distractions, no escape, just the sound of my own breath and the distant hum of the building.

I looked around, trying to find something—anything—that could give me some sense of comfort, but all I saw was a bland, lifeless space that mirrored how I felt inside. I threw myself onto the bed, face-first into the pillow, wishing I could just disappear into the fabric, escape from everything that weighed on me.

I didn't even have my phone.

 I hadn't realized until now how much I depended on it for distractions, to avoid the overwhelming silence. There was nothing here but me, my thoughts, and the suffocating guilt.

I tried to push it all away, close my eyes, and force myself to sleep, but the memories came flooding back—the loss of Jin, my grandfather, the people I pushed away, the mistakes I couldn’t undo. I was fucking drowning in it.

I let out a frustrated sigh and buried my face deeper into the pillow. 

Why am I even still here?

Every part of me screamed to leave, to do something, anything, to break free from this place, from the weight of what I’d done to myself. But there was nowhere to run anymore.

The silence of the room pressed in around me, the guilt festering. 

What did I even expect to happen?

I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to go back to the chaos, the distractions, the numbness. Anything to avoid the reality that I was falling apart. But I couldn't. Not yet.

And so, I lay there, feeling the walls close in on me, waiting for whatever came next—whether it was the release of sleep or the crushing weight of everything I'd lost.