#let’s pretend I wrote “either”
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satanicchristiancult · 5 months ago
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Man, my English exam (which I finished like 45 minutes ago) was just me writing as if I was posting one of my everyday things on Tumblr.
Let’s hope that was the format of a blog according to my teacher.
-Mori
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unnamed-atlas · 5 months ago
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Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings
#love the show. love it a lot. about to be a bitch in the tags anyways#it was. so so messy. they needed another season so bad. the alaska trip took up so much of the comics#and that was with the previously established cast#in the show they introduced a million new characters. gave us no time to get to know them before they were thrown head first into the plot#and condensed an arc that was almost half of the comics into the span of like 5 episodes#my boy singh. oh how they massacred by boy#i mean. okay. in the context of the show the arc wasn't horrible for him.#but i think his survival in the comic and his dedication of his life to making up for the mistakes of his past by helping people and hybrids#would've been so much more powerful than his random self sacrifice at the end of the show.#bc honestly it just seems like another impulsive act in his moral flip flop he'd been having for the last few episodes#rather than active choice to be better#and honestly i wanted to see his delusional paranoid religious breakdown from the comics put to screen so bad#it would've been great#i do like that he turned against zhang the second she started trying to talk about rani. that shit slapped#the several fake outs about Jepp's death were so stupid and unnecessary and repetitive#why are you baiting everyone. you're going to piss off the hardcore comic fans waiting for his death and confuse the show fans#either commit to killing him or stop pretending like you're brave enough to do it#why did they flip back so hard into the mystical vaguely eco fascist backstory and outcome of the comic#after spending two seasons trying to build a more scientific and less 'humanity must end' story for two seasons straight#they tried to make it seem less 'humanity must die' again at the end by ending the virus#which i guess might've been the best outcome available considering the source material and the limitations of it's ending#but idk. it felt weird#the writing this season was so much less subtle. it felt like the characters were constantly monologing directly at the camera#nothing could be left unsaid everyone had to say exactly what they meant#and it was all moral lessons the writers were trying to feed directly to the audience#i feel like they wrote themselves into a corner at the end of the last season#and they expected to have at least one more season to write themselves out of it before the ending#and if not. if this was the plan since the beginning. literally what. WHAT.#can not imagine the people who wrote the last two seasons sitting down and writing this#it won't let me add more tags but i have more thoughts. many more. tumblr is silencing me for speaking the truth /j
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ecto-mochi · 1 year ago
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Ectober Day 1 - Will-o-wisps
Words: 630ish
Don't follow the will-o-wisps. 
They appear every year in Amity Park, right on October 1st. Like starlight, flickering in the rough autumn breeze. Floating on rooftop's edges, in damp alleyways, congregating in the darkness of the nasty burger's back lot.
Don't follow the will-o-wisps. The teens say you can hear them whispering, that if you look too closely at one's flame you can glimpse the blinding, oxygenated burn of a life lived so brutally fast that there wasn't enough tinder left to keep it going.
The brighter the flame, the harder they fall. The highschoolers put them in glass mason jars and shake them around like fireflies. Hold a piece of cardboard close, too close, until it begins to smoke a dark chemical green, the smell of rusting copper filling the air.
The adults never try to stop them - not until it’s all burning down. Before anyone knows better there’s nothing left but cinder and debris on the scorched and ashen ground. Another family in ruins, the most recent headline reads. Overnight, the obituary has gained yet another unfamiliar face.
The wisps don't hurt when you touch them; not at first. But they leave a hollow scar, one that lingers in the depths of your soul and burns away at your hope and being until only ashes remain. The parents never see that, and the kids never seem to care. After all, they aren’t truly following the wisps, and who are they to heed that old and superstitious warning? So they play games in the brief reprieve of a passing period, on the floors of dirty bathrooms and after-school clubs. Who can stare at the flame the longest? Are you brave enough to slowly unscrew the lid and lift it up and away, as far as you can go before the wisp jolts and you slam it down with all your might? How hard must you try to be strong and fearless? Is it ever enough? Can you see the wisp lightly tapping against the glass, how it taps and taps and taps and taps until finally 
crack 
and now it's too late. The rooftop is empty and the alleyways are full and wet and reek of gunsmoke and iron.
Don't follow them, it’s really just that easy! The high school puts up posters that tell the kids just the same, in bright friendly fonts that wield fearful statistics and overblown facts. Use (buy) a Fenton will-destroyer, it'll keep the wisps away for good! Talk to a friend (a trusted adult) if you see one, they'll know how to handle it, handle you. This doesn’t stop the kids; who collect them nonetheless. How many can you fit in that little glass jar? Cram them together like pills in a bottle, keep them on your bedside table for whatever silly little story you've decided to fear. 
(But don’t keep too many - or else the school will call a meeting. They’ll see you for what you are, you damned delinquent. They’ll look your parents in the eyes and tell them how problematic you are, how much help you need.
You don’t need help, though. Right?)
The next day, the entire school is called to the auditorium. They all file in, exchanging gossip, cramming themselves down into poorly padded theater chairs. Above the careless chatter of the students, a teacher begins to speak. Another fire. Another child lost to the wisps. They meant so much to us, we must keep their friends and parents in our hearts. Make sure to tell us if you see a wisp, if you hear it calling. You’ll be safe with us, with whatever choices we make for you. Just don’t burn down and it’ll all be okay.
So yes, don’t follow the will-o-wisps - and to think - today is only October 3rd!
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simptasia · 8 months ago
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mum and i were almost not able to buy our house because a real estate lawyer heard us casually say i'm autistic and alarm bells went off in her head, because she believed that meant i wasn't mentally capable of understanding what i was signing up for
#and she demanded a doctors note. which not how any of this works#theres no policy that works like that AND gps are not the people who are like#''yup this person sure is a person alright''#she just had heaps of prejudice and she let it affect her job#so a lady from one of those places that advocates for ND and disabled people tore her apart#she lost the 4000 dollars she was gonna be paid. and she got fired#and everybody else from that company that we spoke to was either appalled or pretending to be appalled about this#either way it worked out#i was so upset at the time because it was literally a week before it was time to move???#and i was so afraid of us losing all our progress#plus. yeah i was hurt by the insinuations and the attempted disrespect to my agency#also even if i was cognitively disabled... i think cognitively disabled people deserve to own houses too#i was a fucking adult and i managed to get to every gosh forsaken appointment to sign forms#and then do it all again because what i was signing didn't match what was on my birth certificate!#...not my fault - turns out the nurse wrote my fucking name wrong#anyways. i was exhausted but i did it damn it. so that bitch trying to rob us of our home??? fuck her#6 years later and the house is now 100% mine instead of 50%#and im gonna assume that bitch never got a job in real estate again#she was totally cool with me until she heard the word ''autistic''#and clearly pictured somebody... how do i put this... somebody with vacant eyes who smacks the side of their head when they're upset#not a bad thing by the way! hell i've been that flavour of autistic plenty of times. we contain multitudes!!!!#don't mean we don't deserve to own property. we live in a society!!! let us be a part of it#but yeah that was the most serious case of me being dehumanized due to what i am
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There was an interesting thing Arthur learned when he was eight and three-quarters in the field on the right side of the castle. He was chasing the red ladybugs that flew and crawled up the castle walls as if unaware of the unavoidable chill of the stone; as if they didn’t know the castle was where things rot and everyone pretends they can’t smell the stench.
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ohcaptains · 9 months ago
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𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.
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college! peter parker x fem reader.
18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.
peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.
Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.
As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.
Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.
It was as if he did this purely for himself.
“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.
Peter liked hearing you.
Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.
His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.
The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.
Just…reflecting.
Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.
“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.
Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.
He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.
“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.
He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.
The two bled into each other.
His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.
You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.
Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 
“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”
Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.
You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.
You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.
“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”
You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?
Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.
Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”
You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.
He was far too pretty to stay quiet.
The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.
Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.
Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.
He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.
“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.
“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”
Peter had never moved so fast in his life.
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helioooss · 11 days ago
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music girlfriend
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synopsis: you’re the weirdest loser karina has ever met in her life, but you’re cute. and different. and she might just like you. (loser girlfriend x mean girlfriend core)
w/c: 5k+
warnings: swearing, lots of it; mentions of bullying. like always, read at your own risk :)
a/n: a concept like this was my first ever fic…except that it was way more toxic and horrifying. i’ve rewritten it. but just reading something i wrote over 10 years ago makes me CRINGE
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
yu jimin is a force of nature on campus; the kind of girl people talk about in hushed tones, partly out of awe and partly out of fear. she’s got a reputation that precedes her: mean, cold and walls higher than the burj khalifa itself.
she doesn’t mince words, and her insults almost always land with surgical precision. you don’t cross her unless you’re looking to get burned, and even then, it’s not guaranteed she’ll care enough to react.
people say she’s a heartbreaker, and the rumours aren’t exactly subtle. she’s the type who’s been through a messy breakup or two, you’d never know it by looking at her though.
karina, as everyone liked to call her, doesn’t mess around with vulnerability: she does leather jackets, sharp eyeliner, and a smile that’s more threatening than warm.
most of her relationships don’t last long; people get too close, then quickly realize that they’re only scratching the surface of someone who’s built walls too high to climb.
and, then, there’s you. you’re not even remotely on her radar, like at all. unless you count that one time she stared you down just for coughing in her presence. you remember it vividly: it was a wednesday morning, and you were hurrying to class when you caught a coughing fit through the hall after attempting to chug a tropical juice box in two minutes.
unfortunately, she was passing by at the exact moment you let out a loud, ragged cough, and she stopped dead in her tracks; fixing you with a death glare that never left until you were out of sight.
“are you fucking kidding me?” she yells out as you practically run away. “loser!”
that stare was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and disappear, and it cemented your fear of her. you’ve avoided her ever since, not that it’s been difficult — she’s too wrapped up in her own world to notice someone like you anyway.
yet, despite the fear and the certainty that she’d tear you to shreds if given the chance, you never miss an aespa gig.
every friday night, you make your way to the dingy dive bar outside of campus where they perform, staking out your usual spot in the far corner with a ginger beer in hand because you couldn’t stand the taste of anything else, but you only ever manage to drink half before losing interest. it’s not about the drink; it’s about watching her own the stage.
you sit there, trying not to make eye contact, trying to be as invisible as possible while simultaneously wishing she would look your way, just once….in a way that isn’t terrifying.
of course she doesn’t notice you. or at least, she pretends not to. she’s too busy flirting with half the room, her eyes sharp and her voice carrying over the crowd like a spell.
your only real friend on campus is yunjin, your roommate, who’s the complete opposite of you —confident, outgoing and friends with pretty much everyone.
she talks about the girls in aespa often, but you never really pay attention because, well, you’re usually too busy trying to complete a lego set or desperately attempting to finish either a boss in wu-kong, or a quest in dead island 2. in desperate times, you turn to call of duty though.
one saturday evening, as you’re halfway through building a lego roller coaster on the kitchen table, zero human interaction, yunjin drops a bombshell.
“hey, by the way, aespa’s coming over tonight,” she announces casually, as if she’s talking about ordering pizza, fingers twirling her hair and all.
you don’t even look up from your seat. “uh-huh, cool.”
“no, like, they’re actually coming here. to our dorm,” she repeats, clearly trying to make sure it sinks in.
you snap a lego piece into place and nod absentmindedly. “yeah, i hear ya.”
yunjin sighs, clearly defeated. “you’re really not listening, are you?”
“nope,” you admit, focusing intently on the roller coaster track.
“can you please get a girlfriend?” she leaves you to yourself and retreats back into the couch, shaking her head at how hopeless you are. “god, this place needs another woman.”
and then, maybe fifteen minutes later, it finally registers. aespa. karina. here. in your dorm. you’re in your toy story pyjamas with fresh spaghetti stains on it.
you freeze mid-piece placement, your eyes going wide as panic washes over you. “wait, did you say aespa is coming here?”
yunjin looks up from her phone, a grin spreading across her face. “finally paying attention, huh? yeah, they’ll be here any minute.”
“jennifer, are you serious?!” you practically yell, scrambling to your feet, knocking over half your lego set in the process.
“very serious,” she says, clearly enjoying your reaction.
you don’t waste any more time. there’s only one thing to do: that’s to get the hell out of there. before yunjin can say another word, you’re darting down the hall, your feet barely touching the floor. you burst into your room and start throwing things into your bag, moving with a speed you didn’t know you had.
“are you really running away?” yunjin calls after you, chuckling.
“yes!” you shout back, shoving random clothes into your bag. “i can’t deal with this!”
“you’re such a wimp!” she teases, but there’s affection in her voice. “you’ll be fine, i promise —“
“absolutely not,” you cut her off as you slam your door shut. you grab your keys, yank open your window and climb out onto the fire escape, your heart pounding.
as you make your escape, you look down and realise you’ve left a trail of legos behind you, tiny colourful pieces marking your pathetic retreat.
meanwhile, aespa finally arrives. winter, the band’s chaotic drummer, is sprawled on your couch, balancing a bottle of cheap beer on her forehead. ningning, the bassist, is rummaging through your snack drawer like she’s on a mission from god. giselle, the lead guitarist, is inspecting your lego collection with an expression that’s equal parts curiosity and confusion. and then there’s karina — leaning against the counter, looking bored and vaguely annoyed, like she’s too cool for this entire dorm (which she probably is).
“so, where’s this lego nerd?” ningning asks, looking around the living room.
“oh, y/n? she…left,” yunjin says with a shrug, trying not to laugh. “like ran away when i said you guys were coming over.”
“scared of us?” winter asks, looking offended. “we’re not that bad.”
“no,” yunjin adds, shaking her head. “she just really sucks at socialising but once you get to a point, she will yap your ears off.”
“it’s karina,” giselle says knowingly, nudging the singer with a grin. “she’s the scary one.”
karina just rolls her eyes, unfazed. “whatever. if she’s that much of a coward, she’s not worth worrying about.”
as she glances around the room, her eyes land on the half-finished lego set on the kitchen table. she moves closer, her gaze shifting from indifferent to slightly intrigued. she picks up a piece, examining it for a moment.
“what’s this supposed to be?” she asks, holding up the stray lego.
“a roller coaster,” yunjin replies, still smiling. “she’s been working on it all day.”
karina raises an eyebrow, setting the piece back down. “interesting.”
“what, the legos or the girl?” giselle teases.
“both,” karina admits, her voice low and thoughtful. and for a moment, just a moment, her usual cold demeanor softens. “she’s kind of weird, isn’t she? fucking coughed on me once and it just set me off.”
“so you know of her?” giselle raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her face.
karina frowns. “what the hell is your deal?”
“definitely,” yunjin cuts them off before they get started. “she’s into video games and all that nerdy shit. has never had a girlfriend in her life, but she’s gorgeous and funny in her own way.”
karina hums, her gaze lingering on the legos. “i’ll be the judge of that.”
meanwhile, you’ve been hiding out at the park not too far from your dorm for a while now, perched awkwardly on a bench — staring blankly at a nearby pigeon that’s scavenging for crumbs. it was the first place you could think of in your panic, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, your stomach is making very loud complaints.
“great,” you mutter to yourself, pressing a hand to your rumbling belly. you didn’t plan this escape well. you don’t have money on you…just your keys and the few legos you hastily shoved in your pockets.
with a sigh, you finally accept defeat. “screw it,” you mutter, pushing yourself off the bench. “i’ll just sneak in, grab some food, and sneak back out.”
you start making your way back to the dorm, trying to convince yourself that you can avoid those girls altogether. if you’re lucky, they’ll be too busy talking to yunjin or trying to figure out the roller coaster you abandoned on the kitchen table.
approaching your dorm cautiously on your tippy toes, you open door as quietly as possible, sets of laughter audible from the living room — familiar voices that make you both excited and anxious.
you manage to sneak inside unnoticed, keeping your head down as you head straight for the kitchen.
the fridge is glowing right in front of you, immediately grabbing the nearest thing you see: a pack of cheese sticks and a pineapple juice box. you’re so focused on grabbing food and getting out of there that you don’t notice the figure leaning casually against the kitchen counter.
“back so soon, coward?”
you freeze, and slowly turn to find no one else but karina standing there. she’s holding a half-finished lego roller coaster piece, looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite read.
“oh,” you croak out, feeling your face heat up. “i was just…hungry.”
she raises an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between disbelief and mockery. “hungry enough to risk coming back into enemy territory?”
“it’s not enemy territory,” you mutter, peeling the wrapper off the cheese stick awkwardly. “i just panicked.”
karina’s smirk widens. “because of me?”
“maybe,” you admit reluctantly, taking a bite of the cheese stick. “you’re kind of scary, you know.”
“good,” she replies smoothly, stepping closer. “keeps people on their toes.”
“it definitely kept me out the door,” you mumble, trying not to flinch as she moves even closer. you notice she’s still holding the lego piece, twirling it between her fingers like she’s trying to figure it out.
“so,” she says, her voice dropping a notch, “what’s with the legos? seriously. i mean, a roller coaster?”
you glance at the half-built model on the table, feeling both embarrassed and defensive. “what’s wrong with a roller coaster?”
“nothing,” she replies, surprisingly sincere. “it’s just unexpected considering you’re over twenty.”
“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.
she shrugs, her gaze shifting between you and the legos. “i’ve never met anyone who builds a roller coaster in the middle of a saturday night. alone.”
“what kind of person do i seem like, then?” you challenge, more curious than offended.
“the kind that runs away when someone like me shows up,” karina shoots back, but there’s no malice in her tone; just that familiar teasing edge.
you feel your face heat up again, but you manage to hold her gaze. “well, maybe i just don’t know how to deal with someone like you.”
“and what’s someone like me?” she asks, taking a step closer.
“mean,” you say bluntly, surprising even yourself.
karina blinks, caught off guard. “you coughed on me.”
“you remember that?”
“i felt a splash on my face you sore loser,” she whines, remembering the day so clearly. she watches you for a moment, then she gestures to the roller coaster. “so, are you gonna finish this or what?”
“i was planning to,” you say defensively. “it’s not my fault i got interrupted.”
“by yourself?” she raises an eyebrow at you.
“by you,” you correct, feeling a strange mix of frustration and attraction.
her eyes narrow playfully. “well, i’m here now. so, let’s finish it.”
“you want to help me?” you ask, genuinely surprised.
“why not?” she says, picking up another lego piece. “i’ve got nothing better to do, but come meet everyone first.”
you eventually shuffle into the living room, feeling like you’re walking into a lion’s den. the place is chaos: winter is trying to balance on one leg while shouting about something unintelligible, ningning is tearing into a bag of doritos with alarming enthusiasm, and giselle is inspecting your lego city sets like she’s discovered a hidden temple.
“look who it is!” ningning calls, grinning at you with chip dust on her fingers. “finally decided to join us, huh?”
“i was busy,” you say awkwardly.
“busy hiding,” karina corrects, plopping down next to you on the couch with a casualness that makes your heart rate spike.
“it’s not hiding,” you mutter. “it’s called strategic retreat.”
she shrugs. “sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“she’s literally just a girl,” yunjin chuckles, taking the first sip off her beer before grimacing. “what is this shit?”
winter suddenly flops onto the floor in front of you, looking up with wide eyes. “so, do you build like castles and stuff? or just boring things like a roller coaster?”
you frown defensively. “it’s interesting!”
“wow,” winter says, clearly unimpressed. “that’s so nerdy, i think i just lost 10 cool girl points talking to you.”
you roll your eyes. “i didn’t think you had 10 cool girl points to begin with,” the room erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph.
“ohhh, she got heat!” giselle hollers, slapping her knee dramatically.
karina leans closer, her voice low enough that only you can hear. “you’re funny.”
you blink, caught off-guard by her close proximity. “uh, thanks?”
“don’t get too excited,” she adds, a bored look on her face. “i still think you’re weird.”
“i know,” you reply simply. “but that’s kind of my thing.”
somehow, yunjin turns the tv on and you end up in an impromptu mario kart tournament, with winter yelling instructions at everyone like an overly aggressive coach.
“take the shortcut, take the fucking shortcut!” she screams, despite the fact that she’s not even playing.
you manage to hold your own, despite ningning’s attempts to distract you by waving doritos in your face and giselle’s shameless attempts to use every dirty trick in the book. you’re neck and neck with karina, who’s surprisingly good and also surprisingly ruthless.
“you play dirty,” you accuse as she sends a blue shell your way, knocking you out of first place.
“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” karina retorts with a frown.
“it is a bad thing,” you insist. “only jerks use the blue shell.”
“guess i’m a jerk, then,” she adds, not looking the least bit sorry.
“you’re the worst,” you say, but there’s no heat behind it. in fact, you’re kind of having fun.
“i’ll take that as a compliment,” she says, flashing you a victorious smile as she crosses the finish line.
“you shouldn’t,” you mutter, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably because karina just smiled at you for the first time in your life.
as the night goes on, the group slowly starts to mellow out. winter has passed out on the floor, snoring softly with an empty can of beer in her hand. ningning and yunjin are sprawled across the couch, humming some random tune and giselle is poking at your lego millennium falcon with a mix of fascination and confusion.
karina is still sitting next to you, her elbow resting on the back of the couch. “so,” she says, breaking the comfortable silence, “you really like legos, huh?”
you nod. “yeah. it’s kind of my thing.”
“i can see that,” she says, glancing around at your impressive collection. “it’s such a loser vibe.”
you raise an eyebrow. “hey, you’re not the first to say that.”
“i’ll make sure i’ll be the last.”
you laugh, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. “well, thanks, i guess. you’re not as scary as i thought you’d be.”
“i can be scary,” she insists, narrowing her eyes for effect. “maybe one day i can build one with you, deal?”
“woah, okay,” you say, grinning back. “a deal it is then.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
since that unexpected night at your dorm, things between you and karina have taken an unexpected turn. it’s not exactly friendship —karina’s still mean, still cold in that familiar way, but there’s a new rhythm to it, a pattern of teasing that you’re surprisingly getting used to.
whenever you pass each other in the hallways, she makes it a point to throw some kind of insult your way, usually with a smirk that’s equal parts mocking and playful.
“hey, loser,” karina calls as you’re trying to balance a stack of books in your arms.
“hi,” you shoot back with a smile, doing your best to sound unfazed.
“nice outfit,” she adds, eyeing your oversized hoodie and faded jeans. “did you rob a fucking thrift store for that look?”
“maybe,” you reply with a grin. “at least i’m consistent!”
she laughs (surprising everyone around her), her eyes flashing with that familiar mix of amusement and something else — something warmer. “still a loser, though.”
“and what about it?” you retort, shaking your head as she walks away, still chuckling.
it becomes a routine over the next few days. each time you cross paths, karina manages to find some new way to tease you. whether it’s about your outfit, your habit of carrying too many books, or your eternal obsession with legos, her comments are always mean-spirited, but in a way that somehow makes you smile because you know she doesn’t mean any of it.
“what, still working on legos?” she asks one morning, catching sight of a lego manual sticking out of your bag.
“yep,” you say brightly. “gotta build something, right?”
“how pathetic,” she drawls, but there’s a spark in her eyes that betrays the insult.
“at least i’m consistent,” you say, giving her a mock salute as you pass by.
not everyone understands the strange dynamic between you and karina. a group of boys in the football team who’ve been eyeing the whole thing decides to get in on the fun — or at least what they think is fun.
one afternoon, as you’re making your way across campus, you hear someone call out, “hey, loser! still building legos? what are you, five?”
you turn, your stomach sinking as you realize it’s not karina, but felix who is doing a poor imitation of her usual teasing. his tone lacks the playful edge, replaced with something harsher, meaner.
“seriously, you’re still into that kid stuff?” jake sneers, towering over you. “what, got nothing better to do with your life?”
you try to laugh it off, shaking your head. “just having fun, guys.”
“yeah, real fun,” taehyun mutters. “no wonder karina only talks to you to make fun of you.”
you flinch at that, the words cutting deeper than you expected. before you can think of a response, someone else steps in.
“hey! back off,” yunjin shouts, marching over with fire in her eyes. “what’s your problem?”
they all look momentarily startled, but jake just shrugs. “we were just joking around, yunjin. it’s not a big deal.”
“well, it’s not fucking funny to me,” yunjin snaps, her voice loud enough to draw attention. “and if i see you messing with her again, you’ll have to deal with me. got it?”
they mumble a few half-hearted apologies before retreating, clearly not expecting to get yelled at in public.
yunjin turns to you, her expression softening. “are you okay?”
“yeah,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. “i’m fine.”
your roommate isn’t convinced, knowing you better than anyone else. she pulls you aside and demands to know if this has been happening often. you try to brush it off, insisting it’s just dumb teasing, but she’s not having it.
“i’m telling karina,” she says, her voice firm.
“don’t,” you plead, but she’s already walking off, determined to set things right. “it literally just started today!”
when yunjin finds karina, she doesn’t hold back. “your stupid jock friends have been picking on y/n,” she says bluntly. “all thanks to your teasing.”
karina’s eyes narrow instantly. “what? who?”
“those idiots on the football team,” yunjin explains, crossing her arms. “they think it’s funny to imitate you.”
karina’s expression darkens, a mixture of anger and something else — something protective. “where is she?”
“probably at lunch by now,” yunjin replies. “but karina, don’t just—”
“i’m going,” karina interrupts, her voice leaving no room for argument. she stalks off toward the cafeteria, her jaw set and her steps quick.
you’re sitting alone in the cafeteria, picking at your food and trying not to let the earlier incident get to you, but before you can get too lost in your thoughts, you hear a familiar voice.
“hey assholes,” karina calls sharply, her voice loud enough to turn heads. “got something to say to y/n here?”
you look up, startled, as she strides over to your table with the same jocks from before trailing behind her. they look a lot less cocky now, their heads bowed in a mix of embarrassment and fear.
“uh, we’re sorry,” felix mumbles first, barely making eye contact. “we were just messing around.”
yunjin’s eyes flash dangerously. “yeah? well, don’t. she’s off-limits.”
“seriously,” karina deadpans, her arms crossed - voice cold and mean. “if i see you pricks messing around with her again, you can say goodbye to your scholarships.”
you sit there, stunned and unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this; definitely not karina marching in like a one-woman army to defend you.
the boys mumble a few more apologies before scurrying off, leaving you alone with karina and yunjin.
karina lets out a slow breath, her expression still serious. “you okay?”
“i’m fine,” you say, still processing everything. “you didn’t have to do that.”
“yes, i did,” karina replies, her voice softer now. “and…i’m sorry.”
you blink, caught off guard by the sudden apology. “for what?”
“for making it seem like it’s okay to be mean to you,” she says, her tone unusually sincere. “i didn’t mean for it to go that far.”
you shrug, trying to play it off. “it’s fine. i know you were just messing around.”
“still,” she insists, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “i don’t want you to feel like that. not because of me.”
you manage a small smile, the warmth in her voice easing the lingering hurt. “thanks.”
karina looks almost relieved, her smile returning in full force. “so, we’re good?”
“we’re good,” you confirm, feeling a strange mix of gratitude.
and as karina sits down next to you, the rest of the girls start joining in.
you’re sitting in the crowded lunch hall, trying to enjoy your chips while listening to giselle talk about some wild party they’re planning. as usual, karina is scrolling through her phone like she’s half-bored, half-amused by everything around her.
you pop another chip into your mouth and crunch loudly, completely unaware of how it sounds in the echoing hall.
“jesus, y/n,” karina suddenly blurts out, her voice louder than necessary and back to her usual self. “could you chew any louder? i’m pretty sure they can hear you in the next building.”
you pause mid-chew, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. “sorry,” you mumble, covering your mouth with your hand. “i didn’t realize it was that bad.”
she rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “you sound like a woodchipper. it’s a miracle i’m still sitting next to you.”
“you could always move,” you say, trying to sound unfazed.
“nah,” she replies, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t choke on those chips.”
you catch the faintest smirk on her face, and despite her words, you can’t help but smile. “you’re all heart, karina.”
she shrugs, pretending not to care. “you’re lucky i like charity cases.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
one day, karina manages to pull you out of your room and invites you over at the campus skate park. she’s doing tricks on her board like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you, on the other hand, are struggling just to stand on the board without wobbling like a newborn deer.
“come on, y/n,” she taunts, skating over to you with a smirk. “it’s not that hard. just balance, push off, and roll. even a baby can handle that.”
“easy for you to say,” you mutter, trying not to fall over.
she rolls her eyes but skates closer, reaching out to steady you. “here, let me show you. put one foot here, and the other here,” she instructs, positioning your feet.
you follow her instructions, but as soon as you try to push off, you lose your balance and crash to the ground with a loud thud.
her teasing expression instantly shifts to one of panic, her eyes wide as she crouches down next to you. “oh my god, are you okay? did you break anything?”
“just my dignity,” you groan, rubbing your sore butt.
“idiot,” she mutters, but there’s no heat in her voice. she offers you a hand, pulling you back up with surprising gentleness. “you scared me, you know.”
“didn’t think you cared,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest at her reaction.
“well, someone’s gotta keep you from killing yourself,” she says, her tone gruff but her grip lingering on your arm a bit longer than necessary. “just…try not to die, okay? i’m not ready to be a witness to your embarrassing end.”
“don’t worry,” you reply with a grin. “i’ll keep falling just to see that worried look on your face.”
she scoffs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that creeps across her lips. “you’re impossible.”
“and you’re mean,” you say, but there’s no real bite behind it.
“yeah, well,” she says, stepping back onto her board. “i only pick on the ones i like, loser.”
you watch as she skates away, your heart doing an odd little flip.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it’s a rare moment of downtime in aespa’s usual whirlwind of rehearsals and chaos. the four of them are lounging in the practice room, sipping on energy drinks and half-heartedly tuning their instruments. giselle’s strumming random chords on her guitar, winter’s scrolling through her phone, and ningning’s lounging on the floor, doing absolutely nothing.
karina’s leaning against the wall, her eyes distant and her expression unusually serious. she’s been quieter than usual lately, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the others.
“yo karina,” giselle suddenly says, breaking the silence. “what’s up your ass? you’re freaking me out.”
“nothing,” karina replies quickly, a little too quickly.
“oh, please,” winter scoffs, looking up from her phone. “this is about y/n, isn’t it?”
karina’s face stiffens, and she tries to play it off with an eye roll. “why would it be about her?”
“uh, maybe because you’ve been obsessed with her for weeks?” ningning chimes in, smirking. “seriously, the way you look at her, it’s like you’re trying to set her on fire with your eyes.”
karina’s cheeks flush slightly, but she keeps her expression neutral. “i just think she’s funny, that’s all.”
“sure,” giselle says, drawing out the word like she’s speaking to a child. “and i think jacob elordi is funny too.”
she glares at her, but it’s half-hearted. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“oh, come on,” ningning continues, sitting up and crossing her legs. “it’s obvious you like her. the teasing, the constant calling her a loser, that thing where you get all weirdly protective of her? classic crush behavior.”
karina scowls, hating how transparent she apparently is. “she’s interesting.”
“interesting, huh?” winter teases, raising an eyebrow. “interesting enough to make you lose your cool every time she’s around.”
“whatever,” she mutters, turning away slightly. but her attempt at indifference only makes the others laugh harder.
“you know, y/n’s actually not bad-looking,” ningning comments casually. “she’s kind of cute in that nerdy way.”
“if she cut her hair a little and maybe wore something that wasn’t a hoodie three sizes too big,” giselle adds, grinning, “she’d probably have all the girls swooning.”
karina’s jaw tightens at that, her mood shifting from defensive to something closer to possessive. “she doesn’t need to change anything,” she says flatly.
“ohhh,” winter coos, catching the change in her tone. “you know, i actually heard a couple of girls in my class talking about how cute y/n is. one of them even said she’d ask her out if she got the chance.”
“what?” karina snaps, her eyes narrowing. “who said that?”
winter grins, delighted by karina’s reaction. “oh, i don’t know. just some girls, but they sounded pretty serious.”
karina stands up abruptly, her whole body tense. “which class is this?”
“whoa, chill,” giselle laughs, her eyes wide with amusement. “you’re not actually jealous, are you?”
her expression is a mix of annoyance and something deeper. “i just don’t like the idea of people trying to mess with her, that’s all.”
“sure,” ningning says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “and i’m sure this sudden urge to go find her has nothing to do with jealousy.”
“whatever,” karina mutters again, already heading for the door. “i’ll be back.”
“where are you going?” winter calls after her, though she’s pretty sure she knows the answer.
“to make sure y/n’s okay,” karina replies over her shoulder, her voice leaving no room for argument.
the other members burst into laughter as she disappears down the hall, clearly unable to resist the pull she feels toward you.
she makes her way to the building where she knows your class is held. she doesn’t exactly know which room you’re in, but that doesn’t stop her from pacing the hallway, her eyes darting to every door like she’s on a mission.
she leans against the wall, trying to play it cool, but her mind is racing. the thought of someone else being interested in you makes her blood boil in a way she doesn’t fully understand. it’s not like she’s made her own intentions clear, but the idea of you with someone else, it just doesn’t sit right.
she waits outside the classroom building for what feels like an eternity, her patience wearing thin. students start filtering out, and karina’s eyes scan each face, looking for you. she feels a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety, and she hates it.
finally, she spots you. you’re walking out with your head down, clutching a book to your chest. when you look up and see karina, your eyes widen in surprise.
“karina?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “what are you doing here?”
she shrugs, trying to act casual despite the fact that she’s clearly been waiting for you. “just passing by.”
“really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “you’re ‘just passing by’ outside my class?”
karina scratches the back of her neck, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “maybe i wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna trip over on the way to your next class.”
“are you serious?”
her expression shifts slightly, her usual confidence faltering. “maybe.”
you can’t help but smile, a mixture of disbelief and amusement on your face. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“i know, i’ll walk you to your class anyways.
and for the first time, there’s no teasing, no sarcasm, just a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it’s a lazy afternoon, and you and karina are sitting on the floor of your dorm, legs stretched out as you dive into a bag of cheetos.
yunjin left the room to run errands, leaving you and karina in rare company. she came over to drop something off to yunjin, band stuff they said, even though your roommate could not be in one for the life of her.
“these are so good,” you mumble, licking the orange dust off your fingers as you looked at the screen in front of you.
karina watches you with an expression that’s equal parts disgusted and fascinated. “you’re a mess,” she comments, her tone as dry as ever.
“thanks,” you reply cheerfully, taking another handful of cheetos. but as you reach for your drink, you accidentally brush karina’s arm with your cheetos-stained fingers.
she flinches dramatically, her eyes wide. “oh my god, you did not just touch me with those filthy fingers.”
you stare at her, half-amused, half-embarrassed. “oh, come on. it’s not like it’s toxic waste.”
“might as well be,” she snaps, though there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “look at what you did!” she adds, pointing at the faint cheeto dust now smeared on her porcelain skin.
“sorry,” you laugh, grabbing a tissue and trying to wipe it off, only for karina to pull back like you’re trying to brand her.
“don’t touch me!”
“you’re such a drama queen,” you say, still laughing.
she scowls, but there’s no real anger behind it. “one of these days, you’re going to have to find someone else to hang out with.”
“and one of these days, you’re gonna admit you like hanging out with me, cheetos fingers and all,” you retort.
“don’t push your lock, loser,” her eyes narrow, but she can’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “come to our gig this weekend, please?”
you shook your head - unfortunately, you had plans. “i can’t, i promised mina i’d join her party tonight.”
and within a second, karina inches closer towards you — burning holes through your face. “mina? party? what?”
“oh, not that kind of party,” you don’t pick up on the way her tone changes. “it’s a chat party, we’re gonna play games all night and —“
“who is this mina?”
“she’s from japan, really cool and she sings too, sometimes she sends me legos from japan.”
“no, you’re coming to our gig,” she shakes her head, not wanting to hear another girl’s name coming out of your mouth. “and that’s final, yes?”
“yes, okay,” the directness catches you off guard but it doesn’t take long to convince you, specially if karina and her dirty stares are involved. plus, you could always join mina’s party later on.
a strange mix of emotions start brewing in your stomach — guilt, excitement and something you can’t quite name. you’ve never been good at reading people, and with karina, everything feels even more complicated. you’ve never liked anyone before, not like this, and the whole thing is so new, so raw. you don’t know if her insistence is just about wanting you in the crowd, or if it means something more.
you’re still trying to process it when karina stands up, stretching lazily. “i should probably get going,” she says, grabbing her jacket from the back of the couch. “ningning’s angry spamming me, i’m late to practice.”
“yeah,” you reply, watching her as she heads for the door. “have fun.”
“can i come over again later?”
you smile, feeling a heap of butterflies down your stomach. “anytime.”
she gives you one last, lingering look before she leaves, and you’re left alone in the suddenly too-quiet space, your mind racing with questions you don’t know how to answer as you head back to your room and turn your console on.
yunjin returns a while later, looking a bit worn out but still cheerful. “hey, i’m back,” she calls, tossing her keys on the table before popping her head in your room. “did i miss anything?”
you hesitate for a moment, then decide to just spill it. “karina invited me to their gig this weekend.”
her eyebrows shoot up. “and? are you going?”
“yeah,” you admit, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion. “she was really keen about it.”
she studies you for a moment, then sits down next to you, her expression serious. “what’s going on, y/n?”
“i just don’t get her,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “one minute she’s mean, the next she’s nice. and now she’s acting all weird about me going to her gig. and she comes here to hang out with me but i know she’s a heartbreaker and i don’t want —“
“she likes you,” yunjin cuts you off bluntly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“but what does that even mean?” you ask, feeling a surge of frustration. “i’ve never…don’t know how to deal with this. why?”
“it means she wants you there because she cares about you,” she explains patiently. “you know you’re a catch right? she even gets jealous when other girls are around you.”
“jealous?” you repeat, the word feeling foreign in this context.
“yes, jealous,” yunjin confirms, nodding. “karina’s not used to feeling like she’s not the center of someone’s attention, especially yours.”
you let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping. “this is all so confusing. i’ve never liked anyone before. i don’t know what to do.”
“you don’t have to do anything,” yunjin reassures you, her voice gentle. “just be honest with yourself. if you like her, let yourself like her. don’t overthink it.”
“easier said than done,” you mutter.
“i know,” yunjin agrees, her expression sympathetic. “but maybe this is one of those things you have to figure out as you go.”
you nod slowly, feeling a small sense of comfort in her words. “yeah, maybe.”
and as you sit there, replaying the conversation with karina in your mind, you realise that yunjin might be right. maybe this is something you have to navigate one step at a time, no matter how uncertain it feels. because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want to be there, even if you’re not entirely sure what it means.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the weekend arrives faster than you expect, and soon enough, you’re standing outside the venue for aespa’s gig. the usual nerves are there, made worse by the fact that this time, karina explicitly asked you to be here. yunjin’s with you, chatting excitedly about the show as you both head inside. your mind is elsewhere, tangled up in all the uncertainty that karina’s invitation has stirred up.
“you okay?” yunjin asks, nudging your shoulder as you both make your way to the backstage area.
“yeah,” you lie, forcing a smile. “nervous, i guess.”
“don’t worry,” she reassures you. “it’s gonna be fun, at least you’re finally with me instead of that musty corner.”
you try to take her words to heart, but as you step backstage, a new wave of anxiety hits. the chaotic energy of the crew prepping for the show is overwhelming, and you can’t seem to spot karina anywhere.
“she’s probably getting ready,” yunjin suggests, noticing your fidgeting.
“maybe,” you mutter, but something feels off.
you’ve been backstage before, but never like this. tonight, it’s different because you know karina specifically wants you here, which only makes her absence feel sharper.
after a few more minutes pass and there’s still no sign of karina, you make a decision. “i’m gonna go look for her,” you tell the girls.
“want me to come with?” winter asks.
you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. i’ll be quick.”
you wander through the backstage area, dodging equipment and crew members as you make your way toward the quieter sections.
that’s when you spot them: karina, standing in a dark corner with another girl, their heads close together.
a sinking feeling forma in your chest. something about the way they’re standing feels too intimate, like you’re intruding on a private moment. you can’t make out their conversation, but then you hear your name.
“y/n? really?” the girl scoffs, her voice dripping with disdain. “you’re actually interested in that loser?”
you recognise the voice now — it’s soyeon, karina’s ex. the one you’d seen flirting with karina before, she was the ex.
karina’s voice is low, almost defensive. “she’s not a loser.”
“could’ve fooled me,” soyeon replies, her tone harsh. “come on, karina, you know she’s just a rebound.”
you feel your face flush, a mix of anger and humiliation burning in your chest. part of you wants to step forward, to confront them both, but your feet feel like they’re stuck to the ground.
then, suddenly, soyeon closes the gap between them, her lips crashing against karina’s. for a moment, karina doesn’t pull away. instead, she seems to hesitate, caught between resisting and giving in.
that’s all it takes for you to turn and leave, your heart pounding in your chest. you push your way through the backstage crowd, barely registering yunjin calling after you. everything feels like a blur, like the world has tilted sideways and you’re the only one struggling to stay upright.
you’re back at your dorm before you even know how you got there. you slump onto your bed, trying to make sense of what you just saw. your emotions are a confusing mess of hurt, anger, and a crushing sense of betrayal.
all the uncertainty you’d been feeling, all the questions you’d tried to answer, now feel pointless.
you’re not sure how much time passes, mina and some of your friends are on the other end of the screen, but then there’s a loud knock at the door.
“y/n! open up!”
it’s karina’s voice, and she sounds angry.
“damn y/n,” mina chuckles. “who did you piss off?”
you hesitate for a moment, but then you get up and open the door. “i’ll be back guys, won’t be long,” you hear a bunch of ‘ooooh’s’ from them before pause.
your expression is blank when you open the door — karina storms in, her face flushed and her eyes filled with anger.
“why did you not show up?” she demands, her voice sharp. “i told you i wanted you there!”
“yeah, well,” you say, your voice colder than you intended. “i had a good reason.”
she frowns, clearly confused. “what are you talking about?”
“i saw you,” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “back there, with soyeon. i heard what she said, and then you kissed her.”
her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks genuinely shocked. “wait, you were there?”
“obviously,” you say bitterly, crossing your arms. “or do you just make out with your ex in front of your toys at every gig?”
karina’s face hardens, her anger replaced by a mix of guilt and frustration. “it wasn’t like that.”
“oh, really?” you challenge. “because it sure looked like that from where i was standing.”
“she came onto me,” karina insists, her voice desperate now. “i didn’t want it, y/n. you have to believe me, you mean so much more to me than you think.”
“i don’t have to do anything,” you say, feeling a surge of hurt rise up again. “you asked me to come, and then you turned around and kissed her. how am i supposed to believe anything you say?”
she runs a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “it was a mistake, okay? i was just caught off guard.”
“well, congratulations,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “you definitely caught me off guard too.”
“please, y/n, you have to understand. i didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she takes a step closer, her expression pleading.
“it’s my fault for believing something.”
“what are you saying?” she asks, her voice almost panicked. “i do like you, way much more than i’d like to admit.”
“i don’t know if i can do this,” you admit, your chest tightening with the words. “i don’t know how to deal with all of this — specially not when you’re like this.”
karina’s face crumples slightly, but she tries to hold it together. “y/n, i’m sorry. i really am. i don’t know why i did it. maybe it’s because i’m a mess, but i don’t want to lose you.”
“you might have already,” you say, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but refusing to let them fall.
“don’t say that,” she whispers, her voice filled with a kind of desperation you’ve never heard before.
you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i need time, karina. i need to figure out what this means for me.”
her expression softens, and she nods slowly. “okay. i’ll give you time. just don’t shut me out completely, please.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the days after the argument are rough, to say the least. you do everything you can to avoid karina —ducking into classrooms when you spot her in the hallway, sitting at different lunch tables, even changing your usual route to class.
the hurt and confusion from that night still linger, like a bruise that refuses to heal. you thought seeing her with soyeon would make things clearer, that it’d help you move on, but instead it’s just left you feeling hollow.
karina tries to reach out, of course. you get texts, missed calls, and the occasional knock on your dorm door that you pointedly ignore. the messages range from desperate pleas to frustrated demands, but you’re too tired to engage, too confused to even know where to begin.
“you can’t avoid her forever, you know,” yunjin says one evening as she flops down next to you on the couch.
“i’m doing a pretty good job of it so far,” you mumble, keeping your eyes fixed on your phone screen, pretending to be engrossed in bitlife.
“seriously, y/n,” she continues, her tone more concerned now. “you need to talk to her. she’s been a wreck.”
“oh, so now i’m supposed to feel bad for her?” you snap, the words more bitter than you intended.
she sighs, rubbing her temples. “no, but shutting her out completely isn’t going to fix anything. i know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but maybe there’s more to this than you realise.”
“more?” you ask incredulously. “like what? she kissed her ex. right after telling me she wanted me at the gig.”
“i get it, but people make mistakes. and from what the others told me, karina really does care about you and she’s really trying to show it.”
“well, she’s doing a great job of showing the opposite,” you snap, leaning back into the couch.
“you need to hear her out,” she insists. “even if it’s just to get closure.”
“yeah, maybe.”
the next day, you’re in the middle of a study session in the library when giselle, winter and ningning appear, sliding into the chairs across from you. you glance up, already dreading what’s coming.
“we need to talk,” ningning says, her voice gentle but firm.
you sigh, closing your textbook. “if this is about karina, i don’t want to hear it.”
“too bad,” giselle replies, folding her arms. “because we’re not here for your approval. we’re here to make you face reality.”
you glare at her, but there’s no real anger behind it, just exhaustion. “and what’s reality, exactly?”
“reality is that karina’s a mess without you,” winter speaks, her eyes sincere. “she’s been snapping at everyone, barely talking to us. it’s like she doesn’t know how to function.”
“and you think that’s my problem?” you ask, trying to sound indifferent.
“yes,” giselle answers bluntly. “because whether you want to admit it or not, you care about her.”
“i don’t know if i do anymore,” you confess, your voice small.
“you do,” winter says softly. “and she knows she messed up. she’s trying to fix it, but she can’t if you won’t even talk to her.”
you feel a pang of guilt at their words, but the hurt from seeing karina and soyeon still lingers, like a wound that hasn’t scabbed over yet. “i don’t know if i can forgive her.”
“no one’s saying you have to forgive her right away,” ningnint replies, her tone surprisingly gentle. “talk to her. let her explain.”
later that night, you’re alone in your room, staring at your phone. karina’s last text is still on the screen: “please, y/n. just talk to me. i miss you.”
you close your eyes, trying to fight the urge to respond. everything about this situation feels messy and complicated, and you hate it. you’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you don’t know how to navigate it. the push and pull of your emotions is exhausting, and you’re torn between wanting to hear her out and wanting to protect yourself from more hurt.
as you sit there, you hear yunjin’s words echoing in your head: “you need to hear her out, even if it’s just to get closure.”
you let out a frustrated sigh, tossing your phone onto the bed. you know she’s right, and deep down, you know that ignoring karina isn’t going to make the pain go away.
the next morning, you wake up with a sense of determination you haven’t felt in days. you’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive karina, but you know you can’t keep running from her either.
you spend most of the day debating when and where you’ll finally confront karina. your nerves are on edge, your thoughts a jumbled mess of everything you want to say, but also everything you’re afraid to admit.
after your last class, you find yourself making your way toward the music building. it’s the only place you’re sure karina will be — probably rehearsing with the others, maybe alone. the whole walk there, your heart hammers in your chest, and you can’t stop fidgeting with the strap of your bag.
you’ve rehearsed a thousand things to say in your head, but as you approach the familiar practice room, your mind goes blank. for a brief moment, you consider turning around and leaving. but before you can talk yourself out of it, the door swings open.
karina stands there, her eyes widening in surprise. for a second, neither of you speaks.
“y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.
you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “can we talk?”
“yeah,” she says immediately, stepping aside to let you in. the room is empty, dimly lit, and filled with the lingering sound of guitar chords from earlier practice.
you both take a seat on the edge of the small stage, the air heavy with tension. karina’s gaze is cautious, like she’s afraid of making the wrong move.
“i know i don’t have the right to ask anything from you,” she starts, her voice low and raw. “but i really need you to hear me out.”
you nod slowly, bracing yourself for whatever she’s about to say.
“that night,” she continues, her eyes filled with regret, “i messed up. i let soyeon get too close, and i didn’t stop her soon enough. but i swear, y/n, it didn’t mean anything. it was a stupid moment of weakness.”
you feel a twinge of hurt, but you try to stay composed. “then why didn’t you pull away sooner?”
she looks down, as if the weight of your question is too much to bear. “i don’t know,” she admits, her voice breaking slightly. “maybe it’s because i was scared of how real things were getting with you. or maybe it’s because i’ve always been too good at sabotaging anything good in my life.”
“so, what am i supposed to do?” you ask, feeling a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “just pretend it never happened?”
“no,” karina says quickly, shaking her head. “i don’t expect that. i want you to know that you’re not just another person to me. you’re not a rebound, and you’re not a distraction.”
you take a deep breath, trying to process her words. “then what am i, karina? because honestly, i have no idea where i stand with you.”
her eyes soften, voice quieter than before. “you’re the first person who’s made me want to try. really try. and that scares the hell out of me, but i don’t want to lose you.”
you sit there for a moment, the words hanging heavy in the air. this whole situation is still new, still confusing, but her sincerity feels more genuine than anything you’ve felt from her before.
“i’m scared too,” you finally admit, your voice barely audible. “i don’t know how to do this, karina. i’ve never liked anyone before. not like this.”
her expression softens further, and she reaches out hesitantly, her hand stopping just short of yours. “we don’t have to figure it all out right now. i just want to be honest with you. and if you’re willing to give me another chance, i promise i’ll do better.”
“okay,” you say quietly, finally meeting her gaze. “one chance, karina. that’s all you get.”
her eyes light up with a mix of relief and something else, something that looks a lot like hope. “i won’t mess it up. i swear.”
you manage a small smile, feeling a tiny weight lift from your chest. “we’ll see.”
the days that follow are tentative, filled with awkward moments and intimate conversations. karina is different now — not softer, exactly, but more attentive. she tries to be less mean in her teasing, though the familiar edge still slips out sometimes.
“nice shoes,” she says one morning as you’re both walking to class. “you finally decide to wear something that doesn’t look like it came from a dumpster?”
you roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite in her words anymore. “you’re still terrible at compliments.”
“working on it,” she admits with a smile.
the rest of the girls notice the shift too, specially yunjin, who seems pleased with the progress.
“told you it’d work out,” she says one evening as you both sit in your dorm, watching another episode of the witcher.
“we’re not exactly there yet,” you warn, but there’s a small smile on your lips.
“well, you’re getting there,” yunjin replies confidently. “and that’s enough for now.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
then comes another gig, this time with less anxiety and more anticipation. you’re backstage again, but this time, karina finds you before the show starts.
“you came,” she says, a genuine smile breaking across her face.
“of course i did,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “i said i’d give you a chance, didn’t i?”
her eyes soften, and she reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “and i’m not wasting it.” as she heads for the stage, she throws a glance over her shoulder. “stay close this time.”
when the music starts, you find yourself smiling, the weight of the past few weeks finally beginning to lift. you don’t have all the answers yet, but for now, just being here feels like enough.
the end.
967 notes · View notes
burstinn · 5 months ago
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THE EVERY GAY MANS DREAM READER
TALL, BUFF, BIG BOOBS AND ASS everything
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Can't find no good pic for this so..
This post includes:Ghost, Graves, Price, Soap, Nikto, Riptide, Krueger, Konig, Alejandro, Rudy, Gaz, Horangi, Makarov, Velikan, Keegan, Roach. In that order
Yes I wrote all those, yes because I haven't written in a while
Notes:
- NSFW and SFW (Bottom male and top male reader mentioned)
-since y'all like the big buff n' tall male reader, made him bigger and taller basically mixed everything I wrote about male reader, tall, big buff, big cake, big boobs it's like a package in one this will probably be the last of this type of reader since running out ideas. It was hard making original headcanons 💔💔.
-Omg I haven't written in a while so like this might get idk boring?
- Yes again headcanons,you're favs
- strictly MALE READER not Gn rn
- readers age is ambiguous but if you can't think and want an age for reader my thinking is somewhere near late 30s or early 40s
- Some of the HCS have where y'all ain't in a relationship some HCS have y'all r in a relationship
- these headcanons definitely are mischaracterized but let me pretend for a bit 💔💔
- Tiktok got to me now I have brainrot language, so Trigger warning wooohh braiinroot
- can't believe this post was long enough to make my phone lag just a lil bit
- When he first saw you of course he was 😦😧😮
GHOST
- Like okay overkill, like you're taller, buffer and probably have a huger cock??? (Something he can investigate.. For purposes..)
Like you also got smoobs?? A plumpy ass??
Like save some for the rest Jesus 😒😒
- Nonstop staring secretly ofc, You be like in a room then you feel someone staring just to see Ghost somewhere in the corner of the room. You can't tell if he's staring or not but being that you are in an empty room.. Yknow it's kind of obv--
- BUT if you are not in an empty room you will not shake off the staring I mean holy shit look at you like 😨😨🍑✋
- You can literally hear him breathing heavily under his mask like how can he control himself when HE a person who is supposed to be looked up to literally and figuratively now has to look up at YOU?? do you know what does to a person??
-That's right it makes them freaky..
-Probably jerks off to you too
- I mean who doesn't want to get railed by a 7 ft tall man? Especially ESPECIALLY when you've been the supposed dominant person your whole life??
- OMG immediately Cumming to the thought
- I mean he won't mind topping you it also drives his own ego seeing a dominant man get absolutely wrecked, imagine the begging and whining
- plus he won't mind being the person who feels protected not always doing the protecting like 💔💔 he wants to feel protected too 😞
GRAVES
- Immediate gay awakening
- thinks making his western accent more prominent would make you think he sounds more hot
- Will dress up as a cowboy and will will ask (beg) you to do it as well
- because you know.. Hat thing.. Riding.. Graves grabs your hat puts it on his head or Graves grabs his hat puts it on your head, either way one of you is riding something and it ain't a horse
- because of the amazing quote on who ever came up w/ that is "save a horse ride a cowboy"
- Graves is obviously the type of guy to look at your ass and whistle maybe slap it, nah definitely slap it
PRICE
- He thinks of you like a bear
- like You're soo- big and cuddly? Definitely intimidating
- I mean you're near the same age bracket so it's not bad to have some.. Thoughts right?
- You're definitely hairy underneath or not but pls be he wants pubes to tickle his nose
- if you don't have a beard for reader then he would KILL to see have a beard like aughh perfect bear look, if you have a beard immediately cumming(/j) or (not /j)
- Like imagine you and price who are basically like bears like parent bears and and you the other 141 boys are like your children 🥺🥺
SOAP
- DEFINITELY became more gayer
- errrmmm.. Like his eyes are BASICALLY near like chest height
- bumping into you and his face touches your chest like omgg.. Such an accident 💔💔
- Obviously flirting about going to pound town
- like imagine You and Him? In a relationship? Having the most feral sex??? Like it's obv jokes (it's not)
- He would also do anything to see a big man whimper like a little bicth slut, who wouldn't want to see a demon of a man roll his eyes back and whine like a wheoeororoe❤, I mean if he tops I'd imagine him saying "cmon you're a big boy ain't cha'? You can handle a few more inches". While you are also getting the malevolent backshots.
- He would also want a big strong arm to man handle him as he takes the most vigorous backshots known to man
- Have you ever thought or seen a very tall wall like 10 or 11 ft high and you being you, Soap asks (demands) for you to carry him on your shoulder because he wants to see what's over the wall
NIKTO
- intimidating guy and intimidating guy typa relationship but your not in a relationship.. Yet.
- watch him watch you
- shows off his knife collection to you, yes I think he has a knife collection and he will show it to people that he wants to impress (he wants to get freaky with you)
- I like to think if he strips off the gear he gives the most desperate kind of touchy hug, to those he feels close with of course which is you
- lucky you
RIPTIDE
- Offers to teach you how to swim yknow just in case
- there is none, he wants to see you wet
- tells you to wear a white shirt and shorts because its Essential for training, it's a lie he wants to see the water wet your clothes making it stick to your body.. Yknow the white shirt showing whats underneath and the shorts outlining what package you've been hiding even though you weren't really hiding it
- He gets too distracted, the others are too, he forgets how to teach you
KRUEGER
- indefinite eye contact while your doing it
- likes staring into them, if you get shy and look away he will grab your jaw and make you have eye contact with him
- angry fierce ahh eyes
- he's an emotional grumpy guy, rip off his mask and aggressively kiss his face
- He wants the after sex laying on the chest while the other is rubbing their head, goes both ways.
- trace his tattoos and compliment them the bedroom will be locked the whole day, trust 🙏
KÖNIG
- The same as Ghosts
- Imagine being the one to get carried instead of the one carrying
- König would definitely come up to you and ask to be carried while you kiss his face multiple times❤❤
- Imagine how hard he gets because you have to look down at him to talk like HNGRHRRGGGRGRRR
- Definitely likes giving you homemade arts and crafts gear because you know.. The headcanon where König makes his own gear and what if he does it for other people too as gifts💔
- likes seeing you wear his mask it makes him imagine what people see when they see König definitely a change of perspective. He can see how intimidating you are and he gets hard.
ALEJANDRO
- will definitely compliment you in Spanish when talking about you with other people even when you're in front or behind him.
- I mean you don't understand Spanish right?
- if you don't, you're oblivious and only just watch curiously on what he's talking about. Buuut but but if you do understand you don't tell him you undeestrand this thing literally feeds your ego like Alejandro thinks of you this way? 🥺🥺
- Thigh riding type of guy idc who thigh riding
RUDY
- everytime I look at him he looks like a soft vanilla type
- I know he's a strong guy but look at him
- He wants soft sex 😞😞
- He also likes being complimented if you whisper a praise to him when he's doing ANYTHING. Imagine the babies you'd both have together.
- He likes toddlers and babies and if you do too a plus for him,makes him fall even more 💯💯
GAZ
- One time he Got injured and was sitting on the floor and then He saw you running towards him he simultaneously screamed in fear and how hard he got
- Likes to style your clothes, If he was off the military right now he really really likes fashion and if he sees you.. You can't fashion and he sees you wearing.. That, He's appalled, horrified, mortified I'm over exaggerating. But he is now in charge of your fashion now, But if you do know how to style you both will share tips with eachother. You can share different tips too ❤❤
- drags you in his barracks and strips you of your clothes except shorts.. And he's telling you this because he wants to "style" you.
- We both know damn well that's an excuse to get the boombayah freaky on.. He's just to shy to tell you upfront or he thinks it's fun to tease you like that before you get freaky
HORANGI
- gets freaky..
- Like he understands the women who get all giggly and nervous when they see a big man who can destroy them (ignore König 💔)
- is definitely not above thigh crushing, boob crushing, face sitting he'd do all at as long as it's you
- Like one time he pretended he broke his leg and won't let anyone else carry him until you came, acting all princessy and shit as you carry him bridal style to the medics
- He felt like a prince omg
- will definitely get on you and treat your real life size anime men boobs as a squishy toy
- How long is it and will he be able to take it??? Who knows he will find out!! Basically searched how long can someone's cock be if they are built like a god and is 7ft tall in Google
- someone gotta tell me Horangi's height and basic Google searching ain't doing it for me I'm too lazy to search for one line of a spicy headcanon line mb
MAKAROV
- You're basically ascary dog he owns
- You're tall and intimidating
- You can get information out of people quickly
- And he's not above telling you to torture anyone with a strength and body like yours
- most of the time you get the info done and folded
- Makarov uses you for intimidation and strength buuttt if you ever THINK of betraying him he already has a plan to get rid of someone like you
- Can and will turn you into one of those supersoldiers
- Will make you murder people right in front of him for entertainment and will rewward you!
- you know what reward it will be, Because when he asked what reward you wanted you got a bit to freaky you thought you be dead rn but nah he agreed actually he seems to enjoy it more than you do..
VELIKAN
- He's the dog in this one have you heard his voice?? Rough as hell imagine hearing him grunt
- Sounds cocky as hieeeellll too
- Would definitely like showing off to you since he wants to look cool in front of you
- Like you seen velikans skins?? Definitely wears the best ones to show you he can not only be a trained assassin But can also dress cool as hell
- If you compliment him it like makes his day, will not stop thinking about it
- Like a cool person complimenting a cool person like him? Ego boost (It's him feeling gay)
- This guys definitely a smoker (headcanon!!) Because voice sounds like he smoked 100 packs in 1 day and doesn't drink an ounce of water /jk I love him he's so hot.
- So if you want a smoke he purposely hides the lighter saying.. 'Oh no I asked someone elses lighter.. I don't have mine right now' or like 'my lighter ran out of fuel ohh
- So you have to put the cigarette in your mouth as you touch it with his cigarette to light ur own that type of trope 💫💫
- If you're not a smoker he will try his best to not smoke in front of you will use fresh mints to hide his breath of smoke
- after sex he will want a smoke, outside he goes or you both share the one cigarette
KEEGAN
- is it wrong to want to be choked by a big buff meaty arm?
- yknow the tiktok thing where girls put a ribbon on their boyfriends arm and the girls just put their face in the middle as their faces get squished??
- Yeah he wants that but gay
- will try to compare dick sizes even though yours is OBVIOUSLY the superior one!!
- Heads or tails on who's bottoming tonight
- Would like to be wrapped around your arms if you are hugging or sleeping keeps him warm
- Especially when it's snowing will force you to hug with him. ESPECIALLY when your in a mission and your in the tents he will definitely force you to hug it out with him
ROACH
- remember the other tall HC where the reader wasn't taller than König
- yes roach does the same thing here.. He's crawling on you like a tree
- If he wants a kiss instead of asking he crawls up to you and kisses you
- definitely likes to sit on your shoulders as you walk around, he feels tall like that
- this is like a distance relationship 💔💔
- Likes it when you bend over to talk to him also when you bend over when youre doing sum since it's slappable opportunity
- because bent over = double D cake will be slapped
- How will it fit? By the power of friendship of course!!
- probably more of say gex desperation but you get it
- Obviously switch switch
2K notes · View notes
frenchkisstheabyss · 1 month ago
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♡ Softer, Softest ♡
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♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader
♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff
♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.
♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish
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♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).
♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️
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Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt. 
The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same. 
“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.  
The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.” 
San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”
This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else. 
You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body. 
It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes. 
At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it. 
This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.
San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?” 
You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.
You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.
“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time. 
San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.
At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…
“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 
You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be. 
“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is. 
“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage. 
San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.” 
You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.” 
He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass. 
“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt. 
“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”
“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”
“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular. 
San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.” 
There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will. 
“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 
“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.
“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow. 
San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them. 
“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more. 
Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?” 
An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear. 
”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”
San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 
“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation. 
San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”
“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open. 
Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone. 
Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.
“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you. 
San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does. 
Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his. 
“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.
“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit. 
“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived. 
The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”
“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out. 
You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”
Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back. 
Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body. 
“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”
San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it. 
“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach. 
“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.
Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise. 
Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.
San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze. 
San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?” 
You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”
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neil-gaiman · 6 months ago
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Hello Mr Gaiman. I have read all of your books.
This is not an ask, rather an answer.
I would like to say thank you for saving me. Knowing I will never meet you will not change the way I feel about you or myself.
Love your fiction work. I feel bad for the fact that it’s not fiction to me. It is my life story.
Very sad one. That I am still trying to make sense of today.
I was raised by the other mother. Not really, but I was raised by a bipolar narcissist who hated me and loved me but didn’t know how to do either. She sexually abused me for 12 years.
No one ever believed me. No one.
So I would pretend that I was Coraline and that I was brave. I was. But that was because I knew that the spell had to break at some point.
I am 24 now. She is old and frail but the hell she has made in my mind - I almost never escaped. Until I understood that I truly was stronger.
Because she tried to make me just like her, but I refused. I picked kindness.
If you can’t find a friend, be one. If you can’t find someone you look up to- become someone who others can look up to.
I did. I tried my best. I promise.
I want to tell you the ultimate secret that no one ever could. You probably figured it out a long time ago, but it still makes me feel better to write it here, even if I know that you might never reply or ask me if I am safe, or dismiss me like a crazed fan/abused child who desperately needs help and attention.
I don’t. I would like to be your friend. But I know it is not possible.
So I want you to know I know why they do it.
They do it for the same reason as you wrote books. To not feel alone.
But that is the problem with existing in this world. Evil is nothing but not understanding yourself and hating different people from you.
Ignorance brings hate. How do you justify yourself in a world like this?
Simple.
You change the world by breading more people who believe hate is love, and love is hate. Evil needs justification. Kindness needs non.
I sat alone for 24 years and told no one. The paragraph above was just the start and the ending.
My story is still unfolding. But I wanted to let you know you are no longer sitting alone at your birthday party.
Because the only present I ever got was knowing someone else like me existed.
Someone who could look evil in the eye and stare back.
And never stop talking about it.
Thank you Mr. Gaiman, for writing “View from the Cheap Seats”
When I read it I put it down as well as the razor that I wanted to end my life with.
Because you were my only friend. And you still are.
And I cannot take the injustice anymore. If they won’t read, I will read to them.
I will save them just like you saved me. Making reading cool and easy.
And I will do it for you and me. So that no one else can see the horrors anywhere but in books and movies.
And I will do it one act of kindness and love at a time.
So they will know that injustice is just a state of mind.
Thank you Mr.Gaiman. You gave me hope.
And now I will do the unthinkable. I will try until my dying breath to change their mind.
One step forward into a future where you are not sad and a story like mine is just a horror movie and not a reality.
Because you are my only friend, and I hate to see my friends sad.
Leto
I'm so proud of you, and this made me tear up.
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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago
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come on home
in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid
inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers
wc 2857
warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending
a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3
She hung up on you. 
Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 
Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 
You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  
So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  
What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 
“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 
“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 
Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 
“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 
“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 
You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 
“Nice, nice. What else?” 
“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 
“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 
“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 
A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 
“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 
“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 
When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 
“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  
You bite the inside of your cheek. 
“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 
“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 
“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 
Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 
“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 
Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 
“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 
“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 
“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 
Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 
“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 
Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 
“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 
Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 
“Then I’m on my way.” 
Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  
After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 
You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  
“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 
You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 
Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 
His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 
“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 
You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  
Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 
“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 
“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 
“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 
“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 
There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 
You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 
Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 
“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  
At least, until he goes home. 
Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 
“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  
“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 
“That among other things.” 
“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 
The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 
“Okay.” 
It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  
“Thanks,” you murmur.  
His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 
“Anytime.” 
There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  
But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 
“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 
“I can’t do that, honey.” 
“Why not?” 
His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 
“Because we’re not together anymore.” 
“Why not?” 
Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 
Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 
“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 
In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.
“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 
He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 
“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 
You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 
“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 
Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 
“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 
When he kisses you, it feels like home. 
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catscidr · 7 months ago
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// how genshin men would kabedon you //
i. note — im stuck in bed because of cramps help me i wanted to be productive today but i can't Write Good…… so i wrote something self indulgent silly to get my mind off of the pain instead _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _ ueue ii. cw — fluff/crack, gn!reader, suggestive if you squint rly hard, you're shorter than them in the third part for convenience's sake, not rly proofread im melting
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standard kabedon with one arm ↳ alhaitham, diluc, zhongli ˎˊ˗
immediately understood what you meant when you asked if he could “kabedon” you. he either he read about it somewhere or it’s just something he picked up from overhearing others talk about it in passing— you’d tease him for being “nosy” if you weren’t so flustered at the sight of him looking down at you with such a straight face.
your gaze travels down from his face, to his neck, to his bicep… close to you… and his forearm… that’s even closer to you… you’re so focused on his strong masculine arm that you don’t catch the slight blush tinting his cheeks.
whew. is it just you or is it getting hot in here?
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standard kabedon but with both arms ↳ albedo, xiao, lyney ˎˊ˗
he either knew what a kabedon was already or you had to explain it to him and he… misunderstood a little bit.
or maybe he didn’t. maybe it was on purpose. maybe caging you in with both of his arms was what he was planning all along while you sheepishly explained what a kabedon entailed…!
or maybe he doesn’t want to admit that he zoned out while you were talking because all he thought about was how cute you looked, all flushed and embarrassed. yeah. that’s definitely not what happened. of course not
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invades your personal space and backs you up into the wall without even using his arms ↳ pantalone, ayato, dottore ˎˊ˗
he pretended not to know what a was kabedon because’s he’s mean. while you tried to explain what it entailed (while sweating nervously from how hard he was staring at you), he slowly closed the distance between the two of you before you realized just how close he was.
he was taller than you, so he had to bend down at the waist to be at eye-level with you… and the action didn’t help your poor little heart. you could smell his cologne and gods did you feel your knees go weak.
but on the bright side, if your legs give out he’ll be close enough to catch you before you bust your head open! such a gentleman
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forget using arms, he’ll use his leg to pin you to the wall instead ↳ itto, cyno, childe ˎˊ˗
why be like everyone else when he can show off instead? you think he might have been a bird in another life because this isn’t a kabedon, it has to be some sort of courting ritual or… something.
at least it’s working, though. your face is flushed, you’re holding back a smile and your heart is racing against your ribcage.
the only downside if that your face is buried in your hands; if it wasn’t, you’re sure your curiosity would get the better of you and you’d end up looking. don’t ask where, you know what i mean
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….you kabedon him. ↳ wanderer, baizhu, neuvillette, webttore ˎˊ˗
he either straight up refused to do it or was so utterly puzzled by what on earth a “kabedon” even was that you had to show him.
cue a strained gasp, his brows either raised to the heavens or furrowed so hard he would immediately get wrinkles, and a blush that you would never let yourself forget. maybe you should do this more often.
but be careful, he might turn the tables and catch you off guard to kabedon you someday as payback. oh no! terrible, i know
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hard-core-super-star · 14 days ago
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losing focus [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]
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pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff
summary: as unexpected as it is, you become a permanent part of wanda and natasha's relationship.
warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but many feelings; mommy + daddy kink; implied dom/sub dynamics; mentions of petplay; fingering [R receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; overstimulation; nipple play; so many petnames; wanda and nat being competitive; badly proofread
wordcount: 3.7k
a/n: hi again! so, i was originally supposed to post a bishova fic today buuuut i got too attached and wrote a part two of "push me on the counter, call me princess" because i could. i hope you enjoy <3
* * * * * * *
It's difficult to define what your relationship with the witch and her grumpy assassin girlfriend has turned into. 
You know you're not really a part of their relationship, at least not officially, but you're not a mere observer either. Your main connection is with Wanda, which Natasha doesn't seem to mind, but the three of you are well aware of the way you simply started...joining them...all the time.
It started with small things. With Wanda inviting you to sit on her lap during movie nights. With Natasha begrudgingly letting the witch tie you down on their shared bed. With both of them holding you close at night, each of them murmuring some excuse about why they needed the physical contact.
You didn't mind. What kind of fool would mind being sandwiched between two of the most fearsome and beautiful Avengers?
But it very quickly stopped being enough for you.
You didn't want to be greedy, you knew your connection with Wanda wasn't right in the first place. You should have never allowed her to enchant you to the point of weaseling your way into her relationship.
And yet here you are.
Tucked under Wanda's arm while you watch her favorite sitcom.
A part you of you wants to be unhappy. To act like you don't want to be part of this.
But the truth is you do.
You really like this.
"You're thinking too much, detka." There's no judgement in the witch's tone, just the soothing sound of her accent. "Do you want to talk about it?"
You shake your head, instantly feeling overwhelmed from the mere thought of sharing your worries with her. You're not even sure why you're worried. Why there's a part of you that can't seem to settle, despite how warm and comfortable the older woman's embrace is.
"I'm fine," you mumble.
Wanda hates it when you mumble, but you can't help it. You also can't help the way you turn toward her, your face finding refuge in the crook of her neck.
She allows it for it now. Clearly, she doesn't need to read your thoughts to know how much you're struggling with them.
You want to feel embarrassed about it, but it's hard to feel anything except her palm pressing into your side. Her fingers slip under the hem of your (well...Natasha's) shirt and she draws small circles against your skin.
The two of you stay like that for a while. Wanda watches her show and you catch glimpses of it whenever you gather the courage to peak your head up and out of the comfort of her neck.
You've practically settled into the comfort when the door opens and your bubble of safety is popped.
Your shoulders tense until you hear the telltale sound of Natasha's sigh. There's an edge of annoyance to the sound that you've grown to associate with her. "Wanda, if you wanted a pet, we could have just gotten a cat."
Her words make the witch chuckle despite herself. She knew, no matter how cold the other woman acted, she was simply pretending. It was always easier for her to put her walls back up when she was unsure of something instead of going with the flow.
"Hello to you too, sweetheart."
Wanda gives your side a small pinch, not to hurt you but to encourage you to say hi. You don't really want to, you're still not sure how to act around the older woman, but you do it anyway.
"Hi, Nat."
The redhead rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles. "Hello, kitten. Have you been behaving?"
It's a small thing but it's a start. A reminder that she doesn't actually dislike you and she's not mad at the way things have turned out.
That maybe...she's softer than she looks.
"Yes, Daddy," you reply, a soft blush coating your cheeks as you address Natasha by her title. "I listened to Mommy all day."
The small smile on the redhead's face grows at your words. As tough as she looks, she completely adores the way you instantly submit to her without any objections. The way it all seems so natural. So weirdly right.
"Without pouting?" She asks, raising her eyebrow in the way that makes you tremble.
The idea of lying crosses your mind but you know better than that. Plus, there's no use in lying when you're sitting next to a literal mind reader.
"Well...no. But it wasn't my fault!"
Natasha doesn't seem convinced, although she does seem amused. Her eyes drift to Wanda, who can't seem to wipe the proud grin off her face. "It wasn't?"
"It wasn't," the witch replies. "She just got pouty because I told her we had to wait for you before we could play."
"Oh, I see. So, you didn't get pouty, you got needy, is that right?"
You nod, her tone making your head swim in an all too familiar way.
Natasha crawls into bed and shifts herself until she's laying down between your spread legs. The flimsy material of your shorts does little to keep your arousal hidden away from the older woman.
"Come here, detka," Wanda murmurs as her hands grip your hips.
She effortlessly lifts you up until you're sitting between her legs, your back pressed firmly against her front. It's a subtle show of dominance, a reminder that despite Natasha's stubbornness, Wanda's the one in charge. The one you actually belong to.
But there's also a soft side to it. A reminder that she's right there in case things get too overwhelming. That you can back out at any moment and they won't be upset.
It's far too late for that, though. Far too late to act like you don't want them both. Like you don't need them.
Natasha's hands bring you back. Her fingers trail a teasing path up your thighs until they reach the waistband of your shorts.
There's a wordless question in her gaze. One that makes your heart skip a beat.
You nod in response and she wastes no time in getting rid of the garments in the way.
Her eyes take in every inch of exposed skin, the softness in her smile turning slightly predatory. It's a sight you're growing very used to seeing.
"Look at you," she coos, although her tone is far more teasing than sweet. "You're already so wet for us. Mommy's left you needy for too long, huh?"
"I'm not the bad guy here," Wanda says with a chuckle. "It wasn't my idea."
Natasha rolls her eyes but your attention is captured by the witch and her warm hands that slip under your shirt. Her fingers make their way up your torso, her nails dragging against your skin and making your back arch in response.
"Don't listen to her, detka, she's just jealous."
You nod along to the redhead's words even though they don't fully register in your mind. All you know is you're stuck between them as they engage in yet another unnecessary competition.
Wanda notices first, far too used to the subtle cues that give away your growing dependence on them. Your growing need to let go and let them take over.
"There you go, sweetheart, doesn't that feel nice?" Her voice is soft and sweet in your ear, a constant lullaby that allows you to sink deeper against her.
"Mhmm," you hum, your hands reaching out for Natasha as her lips join her fingers in exploring your skin.
The witch is quick to stop you before you get too carried away. Her hands wrap around your wrists and she holds them down, allowing her girlfriend to keep teasing you. "Just relax, baby, Nat knows what to do."
You don't doubt her words for a second, but you also don't doubt the teasing mood the redhead seems to be in. You would complain if you weren't so busy trying to keep yourself still.
It's easier said than done, though, and Natasha quickly tightens her grip on your thighs, keeping you exposed to her gaze and completely still. "Come on, detka, don't you want to show Mommy what a good girl you are?"
Her words make your hips buck, but instead of teasing you for it, she sives right into the main event. Her breath ghosts the most sensitive part of your body before her lips wrap around your swollen clit.
The sensation borders on far too much far too quickly and yet the pleasure seems to overwhelm your body before the sensitivity hits you. Your head falls back against Wanda's shoulder as your lips part in a long moan.
The witch takes advantage of your change in position and attaches her lips to your neck, switching back and forth between gentle kisses and harsh nips. "There you go, isn't that better? Don't think, darling, just let us take over."
The answer is more than obvious considering how far gone your mind is. All you can fully focus on is the soft fuziness feeling your head and the pleasure you're drowing under.
"Daddy," you whine under your breath, your hips shifting against Natasha's mouth.
The redhead simply hums, lapping at your arousal like a woman starved. She doesn't want to admit it but hearing you call her that does things to her that she can't explain. There's a certain type of satisfaction she's never felt with Wanda, even when her girlfriend is in a more submissive mood.
It's what draws her closer to you despite how hard she tries to pretend like she doesn't care. And maybe she doesn't care, but the way she commits herself to making you fall apart, completely overwhelmed by pleasure tells another story.
Wanda's quick to notice how fuzzy you are by now, how perfectly pliable you've become with just a few soft strokes of Natasha's tongue against your throbbing clit. She lets go of your hands, trusting you not to move, before her fingers slip under your shirt again, trailing up until she reaches your breasts.
"Such a good girl for us," she murmurs, as her fingers find your nipples. "Such a pretty little pet."
You're stuck between wanting to arch your back and buck your hips. Ultimately, you end up doing nothing which is exactly what they like. It allows them to please you and use you in whatever way they want.
It's a little surprising how devoted Natasha seems to be to just pleasuring you, but your head is far too fuzy for you to try and think about that. The implications themselves aren't lost on you, though, and they only add to the growing coil in settled in your stomach.
"Don't tell me you're getting ahead of yourself, kotenok." The redhead leans back just enough to look up at you, dark green eyes drinking in every inch of your face. "Good girls don't act like greedy sluts, do they?"
"No, Daddy."
Your instant response makes her smirk and she rewards you by sinking two fingers into your wet cunt.
A gasp slips out of your parted lips and Wanda takes the opportunity to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples. The stinging pain mixes perfectly with the sudden pleasure and you can't stop your body from trembling under their expert hands.
"Please," you whine. "Can I cum?"
"Already?" Wanda chuckles. "Did I leave you too needy earlier?"
"Mhmm, so needy." You don't fully know what you're saying, you just know you can't hold back anymore and the last thing you need is to earn yourself a punishment. "Please."
Your words only seem to spur Natasha on and, instead of giving you mercy like you're asking for, she starts thrusting her fingers in and out of you, groaning as she feels your walls clenching around the digits. "Fuck, such a messy pet."
"I think she's about to get even messier."
The way they talk about you like you're not even there only adds fuel to your desperate arousal. There's nothing more for you to do besides wait for Natasha to decide to give you the mercy you're begging for.
You half-expect her to not give it to you just so she can punish you for it later. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and you're certain she's only gotten more obssesed with the idea since then.
"Yeah? Is Mommy right, detka? Are you going to make a mess for us?" You know Natsha's teasing you and yet you don't feel the usual flush of humilation. Instead, the warmth that floods you is exactly the same one you feel when Wanda uses her sweetly condescing tone on you.
They're such different tones, such different people, and yet you can't deny the way you feel about them. The way every part of you begs for them.
"Yes, please-" Natasha steals your words by curling her fingers inside your wet heat, your thighs shaking from the force of holding back your orgasm. "Wanna cum, please-"
Wanda shushes you, knowing exactly how to soothe you when you need it most. She doesn't give you the permission you need, though, and in your desperation, you miss the silent conversation the two lovers have.
The seconds seem to stretch into hours until finally, Natasha gives in. "Go ahead, detka, cum for us."
She dives back in, her tongue drawing circles on your sensitive cit as her fingers move in and out of your cunt. The pleasure builds and builds, spurred on by Wanda's fingers playing with your nipples.
All it takes is the witch pinching your hardened peaks once more for you to fall over the edge for them.
Your mouth falls open in a loud moan, your whole body shaking as the waves of pleasure overtake your senses. Even as you lose control of yourself, the two women don't relent or give you a second to catch your breath.
As much as you'd love to complain about it, you can't when all you can think about is the electric sensations coursing through your body.
You cry out as Natasha continues her assault on your oversensitive clit, your hips shaking as you try to move away from her. Instead of scolding you for moving so much, she groans against you, causing your walls to clench around her in response.
"Don't fight it, sweetheart," Wanda mumbles, her lips grazing your jaw. "Just let Daddy make you feel good. It's what you wanted, right? Now take it like a good girl."
"Uh-huh, fu-" Your attempts at words turn into needy sounds that spur the redhead on.
"One more, detka, do it for me, yeah?"
Despite your initial complaints, your body gives in to the pleasure almost instantly. It's not fully surprising but it's certainly overwhelming and it sends you deeper into the fuziness filling your mind.
Natasha does her best to hold you down even as your hips buck desperately into her face. She works a third finger inside you and it takes all your self-restraint to not fall apart at the feeling.
"Please!" You gasp. "Can I cum?"
This time, the witch takes over and gently guides you toward your orgasm. "Go ahead, angel, you've been so good for us, just let go."
So, you do.
You give up control and let go.
You're not sure what happens, all you know is your whole body tenses as the coil in your stomach snaps free. You're too far gone to realize what a mess you make of yourself and the sheets beneath you, but the satisfaction in Natasha's movements isn't lost on you.
She works you through the seemingly never-ending aftershocks, easing herself away from your clit and slowly pulling her fingers out of your cunt. "So fucking beautful..."
Your body finally goes limp and you practically melt against Wanda. Her arms wrap around your waist while she places soft kisses to every inch of your face she can reach. "Good girl. You did so well."
You hum in response, barely registering Natasha's movements as she does her best to clean you up.
The bed shifts when the redhead finishes and you instantly know she's moving away from both of you. You try to complain but the words don't seem to form.
"Shhh, just rest, kotenok, you need it."
You want to argue and assure her you feel fine, but you can't seem to find the strength to open your eyes. All you manage to do is whine, earning yourself a chuckle from Wanda.
"Don't pout, baby. You're my good girl, right?"
You wait for Natasha to correct her. To jump in and say you're their good girl.
But she doesn't.
And the longer the silence goes on, the more it hurts your feelings.
"Mommy..." You whisper.
She presses a soft kiss to your temple as her hands go back to caressing your sides. "I know. We'll figure it out later, just sleep for now."
There's little for you to do besides give in and let sleep overcome you.
* * *
When you wake up, you instantly notice the lack of warmth against you. Your head's still a little fuzzy but you feel slightly more in control now. You're also still pretty drowsy, though.
You attempt to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes as you lift your head, your eyes searching around the room for Wanda.
Instead of the witch, you find her girlfriend curled up in the reading chair in the corner of the room. There's a certain tension in her form that tells you far more than she'd like.
"Maria called," Natasha says, her voice colder than you've heard it in a while. "Wanda had to go. It sounded like she'll be gone for a few weeks."
Oh.
At least that explains why the redhead looks so...vulnerable and...lost.
Their relationship has always been a bit of a mystery to you. Despite the many nights you've listened to Wanda complain about the assassin's shitty coping mechanisms, you don't know many details about their connection.
You just know that somehow...they work. Despite their traumas and their pain, they understand each other.
And then there's you.
You're even less sure of where you fit in.
Of how Natasha feels about you.
"You can at least pretend to be happy to spend time with me," she says, effectively cutting off your thoughts.
"I am," you reply without skipping a beat. "I just...didn't think you'd be thrilled about it."
"Why? Because I'm the big bad girlfriend who has no feelings? Who doesn't give a shit about anyone?"
Despite her attempts to sound mad, her tone gives away how hurt she is. How terrified she is that you see her like that. That you think she's half as bad as the stories you've heard about her.
"No, I just...well, I know you and Wanda had that arrangement and everything but you didn't ask for this. I thought you just saw me as her annoying pet."
The corners of her mouth twitch a little as she tries to hold in her smile. "I did at first. It's nothing personal, hearing Wanda say she wanted you was...a little hard to deal with."
"Yeah, I figured." You sit up with your back against the headrest, your eyes absentmindedly admiring Natasha's features. Even with the distance between you, she looks stunning. "It wasn't easy for me either, y'know? I felt really guilty about it."
"That didn't stop you from sleeping with her the first time, though."
"Well, no but...in my defense, you can't exactly say no to Wanda when her mind is made up."
That earns you a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, you can say that again. Why do you think you're here? Wanda didn't want to let you go after the first time."
It's not necessarily news considering how things went down after the first time, but you can't act like your heart doesn't skip a beat at her words. The confirmation that the witch wanted you is one thing, but you're still not sure how Natasha feels. Something that's not surprising considering how closed off she is.
"And you?" You ask, hoping you sound less nervous than you feel.
It takes Natasha a few seconds to form her response. You can't exactly blame her but the silence makes your skin crawl. The fear that she doesn't want you, that she doesn't care, rises up within you the longer it drags on.
Finally, she eases your mind.
"Let's just say you've grown on me, kitten."
It's not much and yet it's more than enough for you. It reinforces the connection you've started feeling with her. The bond that demands to be nurtured despite how unusual it is.
Then again, wanting unsual things is kind of your thing at this point.
"You've grown on me too," you mutter, doing your best to ignore the warmth that spreads along your face.
"That doesn't mean you're not still our pet, though," she clarifies. "...if you want, that is. It can stay casual or we can turn it into more. We can train you. I can train you, if you want to be our submissive."
It takes a second for the words to fully sink in.
You nod before you even know what you're doing. You don't need to think about it, though, it's what you want. You want them. And all the little nuances that come with them.
Natasha watches you for a moment, her eyes studying you as if she's waiting for you to realize what you're doing and back out instantly. You can't exactly put your reasons into words to ease her mind. All you know is you've never wanted anything the way you want them.
Despite not being a mindreader like her girlfriend, the assasin is quick to move toward you once the thought of being fully theirs crosses your mind.
"You sure you've got what it takes, kitten?" She asks as she settles onto your lap. "I'm a lot to handle."
"I can take it," you reply, your hands landing on her waist without a second thought. "I want you."
Finally, your words are enough to break through her defenses. 
It doesn't feel like enough and yet it's exactly what she had wanted to hear. What she was afraid you wouldn't want.
"Then you have me," she says, her voice far softer than you've ever heard it.
There's so much you want to say, but words don't seem to be enough right now. So, instead, you lean forward and press your lips to hers.
You're not completely sure how you ended up here but you wouldn't trade it for the world.
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mononijikayu · 3 months ago
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drunk tonight — ryomen sukuna.
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"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations. His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."
GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;
WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, break up, fighting, crying, hurt, physical touch, sexual content, sadness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of toxic relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of fighting, depiction of sexual content, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of sexual context, mention of loneliness, toxic ex-boyfriend! sukuna, long suffering ex-girlfriend! reader;
WORD COUNT: 9.4k words
NOTE: the thought bubble says "yes, we can." and "because i love you. and you love me."; i wrote this a while back but i was waiting for the poll to end. but if sukuna wins, then he definitely has his stuff posted first. somehow, sukuna always wins my polls 😆😆😆 anyway, i hope you love this one too!!! i love you all 🫶🫶🫶
masterlist
if you want to, tip! <3
▬ι══════════════ι▬
YOU DON’T WANT TO ANSWER THE PHONE. Late at night, your phone buzzes, its vibration cutting through the silence like a knife. You glance at the screen, feeling a chill run down your spine as you recognize the number. It’s a number you know all too well, one that you’ve tried to erase from your mind but could never quite forget, no matter how hard you tried.
A sigh escapes your lips, your heart sinking as Sukuna’s name flashes across the screen. It’s a name that once brought you comfort, excitement, even love. But now, it’s just a reminder of everything that went wrong, of the hurt and the scars that never fully healed.
You’ve blocked him on everything—social media, messaging apps, even email. You thought you had cut off every possible avenue for him to reach you, but he always remembered your phone number. 
He was always good at that—memorizing details, knowing exactly how to reach you when you least wanted him to. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, his ability to know you so well, to be so in tune with you. But now, it’s a curse, a reminder that no matter how far you try to run, he can always find you.
The text is a mess of jumbled letters and half-formed words, the kind of message that only makes sense to the sender. You can almost hear his deep, slurred voice in your head as you read it, the way he used to talk when he was too far gone, too deep into the bottle. He’s drunk, that much is obvious, and the thought makes your stomach churn.
You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. There’s nothing worse than a drunk ex-text. It’s a toxic mix of emotions—regret, anger, longing—all wrapped up in a few poorly typed words. You know how this goes, how the night will unravel if you let it. 
He’ll keep texting, maybe even call, and each message will be more desperate, more incoherent than the last. He’ll say things he doesn’t mean, make promises he can’t keep, and you’ll be left holding the pieces of a conversation that never should have happened.
For a moment, you consider ignoring it, just turning off your phone and pretending you never saw it. But you know that won’t make it go away. You know that as long as Sukuna has your number, as long as he has a way to reach you, this cycle will keep repeating itself.
You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the screen. You could respond, tell him to stop, to leave you alone once and for all. But part of you knows that won’t work either. You’ve told him before, and yet here you are, staring at another late-night message from the man you once loved.
Your thumb hovers over the message, the words blurring in your tired eyes. You want to be strong, to resist the pull of old emotions and familiar patterns. But there’s a part of you that’s still connected to him, a part that wants to reach out, to understand why he can’t just let you go.
But you know better. You’ve been down this road too many times before. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like tearing a piece of your heart out, you know what you have to do. With a sigh, you delete the message, your chest tightening as you do. You close your eyes, trying to block out the guilt, the sadness, the tiny voice in your head that says maybe this time will be different. But you know it won’t. It never is.
You can’t even muster the energy to be angry. It’s all too familiar, the cycle of hurt and regret that you both keep getting sucked into. You start typing back, your fingers trembling slightly with the weight of it all.
“Sukuna, stop. Wherever you are, just stop.” You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. But you need to say this—you need to finally put it to rest. “This hurts, all of it. It’s a mess, and we’ve broken up. You need to stop chasing after me. We can’t go back.”
There’s a long pause. You wonder if he’ll leave it at that, but another text pings through.
“I can’t… I can’t live with this without trying. Please…”
You swallow hard, feeling the ache in your chest, but you’ve made up your mind. This is a wound that needs to heal, and reopening it will only make it worse.
“Sukuna, I’m done. You need to be, too.” You send the message, and this time, you turn off your phone. The silence that follows is almost deafening, but it’s the first step towards finally moving on.
You purse your lips, staring at the screen as his last message burns into your mind. You know he’s just too drunk tonight. He doesn’t really want you back—not the way he thinks he does. He’s just broken inside, sad and high, and you can feel the weight of his loneliness pressing through the words.
A lump forms in your throat as the urge to cry wells up again. It hurts because deep down, you know the truth. He doesn’t want you back. He’s just lonely, aching for something familiar to fill the void. You’ve been there before, reaching out in desperation, hoping for comfort in the arms of someone who used to mean everything. But that was then, and this is now.
You type slowly, forcing yourself to keep going, even though each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. "Sukuna, you’re not really after me. You’re just lonely and sad, and I get that. But this… us… it’s over. We ended things for a reason."
Your fingers hesitate over the next part, but you push through the pain. "We hurt each other too much. I didn’t want to be with you anymore because all we did was tear each other apart. And I don’t want that for either of us."
You take a shaky breath, knowing what you need to say, even if it feels like ripping off a bandage from a wound that hasn’t fully healed. "So put down the phone, Sukuna. It’s time to go home. You’re just drunk tonight.”
You hit send, and the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You’ve been strong for so long, but tonight, in the quiet of your room, you allow yourself to feel the full weight of everything you’ve lost and everything you’ve chosen to leave behind.
You ended things because you knew it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And even though you’re telling him to move on, a part of you is whispering the same words to yourself. It’s time to let go, for real this time. It’s time to heal, even if that means facing the pain head-on and accepting that some things can never be fixed.
Your phone rings, and your heart sinks as you see his name flashing across the screen. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the decline button. You know you shouldn’t answer, know that nothing good can come from this. But some part of you—maybe out of concern, maybe out of habit—hits the green button.
“Sukuna, don’t—”
“I’m on my way.” he interrupts, his voice slurred but filled with a determination that chills you. “I need to see you. We need to talk.”
Your stomach drops, and a sense of dread washes over you. “No, Sukuna. Don’t do this. You’re not thinking straight.”
There’s a pause on the other end, a brief silence where you can hear him breathing heavily, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure. “I have to see you.” he repeats, softer this time, almost pleading. “Please. I…..I want to see you. I wanna…I wanna be with you.”
“Sukuna, please.” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re drunk, you’re not yourself. Turn around and go home. You’re only going to make this harder—for both of us.”
“I don’t care.” he snaps, and you can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. A desperation that’s never been there before. “I can’t keep living like this, pretending I don’t need you. I’ll be there soon.”
Panic starts to set in. You feel trapped, knowing that no amount of reasoning will get through to him tonight. “Sukuna, if you show up here, I won’t open the door. I mean it.”
There’s a harsh laugh on the other end. “You will. You always do.”
His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they’re true, or at least they were. You can’t deny the history between you two, the countless times you’ve stood at the edge of this same precipice, teetering between resolve and surrender. 
How many times had you given in, opened the door, and let him back into your life, even when every fiber of your being screamed that you shouldn’t? You’ve lost count, the memories blurring together into a painful montage of late-night confessions, tearful apologies, and broken promises.
Each time, you told yourself it would be the last. You would stand firm, hold your ground, and finally cut the ties that bound you to him. But then he would show up—vulnerable, raw, and desperate—and the walls you had so carefully constructed would crumble in an instant. 
He knew exactly how to reach you, how to twist the knife just enough to remind you of what you once had, what you once were. And for a fleeting moment, you’d believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.
But they never were. The darkness that surrounded him, that clung to your relationship like a shroud, always found a way to seep back in. It would start slowly—a harsh word here, a lingering silence there—but soon, it would consume you both, dragging you back into a toxic cycle of pain and regret. Each time you let him back in, you lost a little more of yourself, a little more of the light that once defined who you were.
But you can’t do that anymore. You can’t keep losing pieces of yourself to a love that no longer serves you, to a relationship that has long since become a shadow of what it once was. You’ve fought too hard to reclaim your life, to step out of the darkness and into the light of something better, something healthier. You’ve built yourself back up, brick by brick, and you can’t let him tear it all down again.
This time, it has to be different. This time, you can’t open the door, no matter how much he begs, no matter how much it hurts to turn him away. You can’t let him drag you back into the darkness that you fought so hard to escape. You deserve more—more than late-night texts filled with empty promises, more than a love that only thrives in the shadows. You deserve peace, stability, and a future that isn’t haunted by the ghosts of a past you can’t change.
So you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the familiar pull of his words, the seductive lure of what could have been. You remind yourself of the pain, the nights spent crying, the days filled with anxiety and doubt. You remind yourself that you’ve survived without him, that you’ve thrived in ways you never could have imagined when you were still caught in his web.
And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal of everything you once held dear, you know that you have to let him go. You have to close the door, lock it, and walk away—this time for good. Because if you don’t, you’ll never truly be free. And freedom, you realize, is worth more than any fleeting moment of comfort he could offer. You can’t let him pull you back into the darkness. You’ve come too far, and it’s time to finally step into the light.
“No, I won’t.” you say, forcing steel into your voice. “Not this time. If you care about me at all, you’ll turn around and go home. You’ll stop this before it gets worse.”
He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you think maybe, just maybe, he’ll listen. But then he speaks again, his voice rough and broken. “I’m almost there. Just… wait for me.”
Your heart is racing now, your mind scrambling for what to do. “Sukuna, if you come here, I’ll call the police. I’m serious.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then, finally, silence. You think he’s hung up, but then he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry… I���m sorry for everything. But I have to try.”
He hangs up before you can respond, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone with your heart pounding in your chest. You feel sick, torn between the history you share and the need to protect yourself from the man he’s become.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You don’t want to call the police, don’t want to escalate things that far, but you need to be ready. You need to stay strong, for your own sake.
With trembling hands, you lock your door, turn off the lights, and sit down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly in your hand. You wait, praying that he’ll turn around, that he’ll finally realize that what you had is gone, and it’s time to let it go. But deep down, you know this isn’t over—not tonight, not until he’s standing at your door, and you’re forced to make the hardest decision of your life.
The minutes tick by slowly, each one heavier than the last. You sit in the dark, your breath shallow and your nerves frayed, listening for any sound that might signal his arrival. Every car that passes by your window makes your heart jump, your mind conjuring images of him stumbling out, determined and reckless.
You think back to the times when things were good between you two, when his intensity was something you admired, even loved. But that intensity had turned into something else, something darker and more destructive, and you couldn’t let it consume you both any longer.
Your phone vibrates again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Another message from Sukuna:
“I’m here.”
You freeze, your blood running cold. He’s close, maybe right outside. You stand up slowly, moving toward the window with a mix of dread and resolve. Peering through the curtains, you see his figure in the dim light, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his silhouette unmistakable.
He looks up, and even from this distance, you can see the torment in his eyes, the way his shoulders sag with the weight of whatever he’s carrying. But you can’t let that sway you. You’ve made your choice, and you need to stand by it.
Your phone vibrates again, the familiar buzz sending a jolt through your already frayed nerves. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know it’s him. The notification hangs in the air like a weight, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.
With a trembling hand, you unlock your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding in the darkness of your room. His message is there, short and desperate, the words filled with a plea that you’ve heard too many times before:
“Please, just open the door. We can talk, I swear. I won’t make a scene.”
You close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep the tears at bay. His voice echoes in your mind, the deep, gravelly tone that once brought you comfort now only serves to break you down. You can almost picture him on the other side of that door, his eyes wide with that familiar mix of anger and sadness, his posture tense with anticipation. He’s close, so close that you can feel his presence like a shadow creeping over your heart.
It would be so easy to give in, to let him in one more time, to listen to whatever promises he has prepared for tonight. After all, you’ve done it before—opened that door despite knowing it would lead to nothing but more heartache. But tonight feels different. Tonight, there’s a finality in the air, a sense that if you open that door now, it won’t just be another mistake; it will be the last one, the one that shatters whatever remnants of strength you’ve managed to hold onto.
You swallow hard, your throat tight with the urge to cry. You know him too well; you know he won’t leave unless you confront him, unless you face him head-on. He’s stubborn like that, relentless in his pursuit of what he wants, even when it’s something—or someone—that’s no longer his to claim. 
But you also know, deep in your bones, that opening that door is the last thing you should do. It’s a line you can’t cross, not this time. Because if you do, you’ll be dragged right back into the storm you’ve fought so hard to escape. You’ll be pulled into his orbit, where everything is chaotic and intense, where love and pain are intertwined so tightly that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
You take a shaky breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as your mind races. What could he possibly say that he hasn’t already said? What could he promise that he hasn’t already broken? The answers are clear, but the pull of the past is strong, and it tugs at you with a force that’s hard to resist.
But you have to resist. You have to stay strong, for your own sake. Because you know that once you open that door, once you let him back in, all the progress you’ve made, all the nights you’ve spent rebuilding yourself, will be undone. You’ll be right back where you started—lost, hurt, and wondering why you ever let him back into your life.
Your heart aches with the weight of it all, but you know what you have to do. You know that tonight, you have to choose yourself, even if it means walking away from someone you once loved with every part of your being. 
So you close your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, to let it wash over you without letting it consume you. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fight back the urge to cry, to scream, to throw open that door and let everything unravel.
But you don’t. You stay where you are, standing firm in the decision you’ve made. Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you’re choosing to protect your heart instead of breaking it all over again.
You steady your breathing, forcing yourself to stay calm as the reality of the situation sinks in. Each vibration of your phone feels like a pulse of pain, a reminder of the emotional battleground you’re standing on. You know that answering the door would only open the floodgates, allowing the turmoil and chaos of the past to flood back into your life. You’ve fought so hard to reclaim your peace, and you refuse to let it slip away now.
With a deep breath, you take a moment to center yourself. You remind yourself of the reasons you’ve decided to cut ties, the countless times you’ve faced heartache, and the strength it took to rebuild your life. This decision, though painful, is a necessary step to ensure you don’t lose everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.
You get up and move to your front door, standing just a few inches away. The cold, unyielding surface feels like a barrier between you and the chaos you’ve left behind. You listen for any sounds—footsteps, a knock—but the night is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of distant traffic. It’s as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make the choice that will define this moment.
Another message from Sukuna pings through, and you resist the urge to check it. Instead, you focus on the decision at hand, the choice you’ve already made. You know that the best way to move forward is to keep the past where it belongs—behind you.
You glance at your phone once more and see that Sukuna has called you again. Your heart races, but you refuse to answer. You let the call go to voicemail, the familiar chime sounding distant and detached. Each unanswered call is a step towards reclaiming your autonomy, towards making it clear that you will not be dragged back into the emotional mess that has defined your relationship.
The minutes tick by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s silence—no more texts, no more calls. You take a deep breath, letting the calm settle over you. You feel the weight of your decision settle into your bones, a mixture of relief and sorrow. You’ve chosen to protect yourself, to preserve the hard-earned peace you’ve fought for.
As you turn away from the door, you feel a mixture of sadness and strength. The pain of seeing Sukuna’s name, the torment of his pleas, is still fresh, but you’ve managed to hold firm. You’ve chosen not to open the door, not to let him back into your life. This choice, as difficult as it was, is a testament to your resolve, to your commitment to yourself.
You sit back down, wrapping yourself in a blanket of quiet determination. The tears you’ve fought so hard to keep at bay finally come, not as a sign of weakness but as a release of all the emotions you’ve been holding inside. They’re a reminder of your humanity, of the depth of your feelings, but they’re also a sign of your strength—strength you needed to make the right decision, no matter how hard it was.
You’ve done what you needed to do to protect your heart, and now, you allow yourself to grieve, to heal, and to move forward. You close your eyes, letting the tears flow, and in the silence of your room, you begin the process of letting go, knowing that you’ve taken a crucial step toward finding the peace and happiness you deserve.
You reach for your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you begin to type out a message. You need to be firm, clear, and compassionate, even if you’re struggling with your own emotions. You know that any form of communication right now will only complicate things, but you also want to make sure Sukuna understands the finality of your decision.
With a deep breath, you type:
“Sukuna, I can’t talk to you right now. Please, just go home. We can’t have this conversation tonight. I need some space, and I need you to respect that. Please understand and go home.”
You hit send, watching as the message is delivered. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope that this will be the end of it, that he’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone. You’ve made your boundaries clear, and now it’s up to him to honor them.
Minutes pass in tense silence, and your phone stays quiet. You sit back down, trying to calm your racing heart, focusing on the quiet around you instead of the anxiety that has taken root in your chest.
But then, a new message comes through. You don’t even need to look to know that it’s from Sukuna. With a heavy heart, you open it:
“I just need to see you. I’m sorry for everything, but I can’t let this end like this. Please.”
You can almost hear the desperation in his words, the anguish that comes from knowing he’s losing you. But you also know that this isn’t just about you and him anymore. It’s about your own well-being, your need to set boundaries and stick to them, even when it’s incredibly hard.
You type back:
“No, Sukuna. This is not the time. I’ve made my decision, and I need you to respect it. I can’t keep doing this. Please, just go home.”
You hit send, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your shoulders. You’re asking for something that feels almost impossible—to respect a boundary when emotions are high, when both of you are vulnerable. But it’s necessary. 
You put your phone aside and try to find a way to soothe the emotional storm inside you. You remind yourself of why you made this decision, of the personal growth you’ve achieved, and the need to maintain your peace. You try to focus on the positives of your life and the future you’re working toward, hoping that with time, the pain of this moment will fade and you’ll find a way to heal.
Hours tick by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s a quiet relief in knowing that, at least for now, you’ve done all you can. You’ve set your boundaries and communicated your needs as clearly as possible.
You let yourself close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over you. The road to recovery will be long and fraught with moments like this, but for tonight, you’ve taken a crucial step toward reclaiming your life. As you drift into a fitful sleep, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring clarity and a renewed sense of peace, allowing you to continue moving forward.
▬ι══════════════ι▬
IF THERE WAS A LOVE STORY WORTH MENTIONING, IT’S YOURS. Because in truth, it wasn’t a love story. It was a painful hurt instead. The romance between you and Sukuna was a tumultuous symphony of passion and pain, a story that oscillated between intense highs and devastating lows. It was a love that consumed everything in its path, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams and shattered hearts. 
You, the good girl with a heart full of hope and idealism, and him, the quintessential troublemaker whose very presence seemed to stir chaos wherever he went. It was a match made in hell, an explosive combination of purity and defiance that sparked with an almost palpable intensity. 
From the beginning, there was an undeniable chemistry between you two, a magnetic pull that drew you into Sukuna’s orbit. You were drawn to his raw energy, the way he seemed to live on the edge of every emotion, pushing boundaries and challenging norms. His life was a whirlwind of excitement and unpredictability, and it was a stark contrast to the more controlled and orderly world you inhabited.
At first, the contrasts were thrilling. Your calm demeanor and responsible nature seemed to balance out his reckless tendencies, creating a dynamic that felt electric and invigorating. You believed that your love could be the force that tamed his wildness, that your stability could anchor him amidst his stormy existence.
But as time went on, the initial thrill gave way to a more complex and painful reality. Sukuna’s troublemaking ways began to seep into every aspect of your relationship, turning what was once exciting into something exhausting. His impulsiveness, once charming, became a source of constant stress and conflict. The very qualities that attracted you to him started to feel like burdens, and the harmony you sought began to slip through your fingers.
The highs were dizzying—moments of intense connection and fiery passion that made you feel alive and on top of the world. But the lows were equally devastating, each conflict leaving deeper wounds, each argument a reminder of how differently you saw the world. The love that had once seemed like a perfect escape from your own constraints now felt like a whirlwind of chaos that you couldn’t control.
Your attempts to bring order and stability to the relationship often clashed with Sukuna’s need for freedom and rebellion. The more you tried to ground him, the more he resisted, and the cycle of conflict and resolution became a relentless pattern. The love that once felt like a daring adventure turned into a series of battles, each one leaving both of you more scared than the last.
Ultimately, the contrast between your worlds proved too great. The boundaries you set were repeatedly crossed, the promises made were broken too many times. The passion that had once ignited your connection became the fuel for your destruction. What began as a match made in hell had devolved into a battlefield of emotional devastation.
You were left to pick up the pieces of a love that had burned too brightly, too destructively. The remnants of your time together were a stark reminder of the dangers of mixing such opposing forces. In the end, the love you shared was a powerful testament to the intense beauty and agony of a relationship that, despite its fiery start, was doomed from the beginning.
From the beginning, the relationship was marked by a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore. Sukuna's charisma and intensity drew you in, his presence filling every space with an almost palpable energy. There was a fire in his eyes, a promise of something deeper and more profound, and you were captivated by the allure of his raw power and unfiltered emotions.
At first, it felt like a dream. His touch was electric, his words charged with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability. You would get lost in his gaze, swept away by the intensity of his kisses, believing that this was what true love was supposed to feel like. Every argument, every make-up, every moment of passion felt like a confirmation of the bond you shared.
You couldn’t stand it anymore, how tired you were. How truly full of it you were. how emotionally drained you’ve been. You found yourself face-to-face with Sukuna in the dimly lit living room. He stood close, his gaze intense and his voice almost a whisper, yet filled with an undeniable gravity.
"I'm sorry." Sukuna said, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you."
You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity mixed with a touch of desperation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.
"You say that now, but it feels like we’re always back here, fighting and making up," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought this was supposed to be different. I thought we were building something real."
Sukuna reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that belied his earlier anger. "It is real. What we have is intense, but it’s real. I know I mess up, but I need you to understand that I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re everything to me."
You looked at him, feeling the familiar mix of pain and passion. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Sukuna. Every time we fight, it feels like we’re tearing each other apart. Maybe this intensity isn’t what I thought it was.”
He stepped closer, his voice filled with an earnest plea. “Please, don’t say that. We can work through this. I know I’m not perfect, but we have something special. We just need to fight for it, not let it slip away because of a few mistakes.”
You shook your head, tears welling up. “It’s not just a few mistakes. It’s the pattern, the way things keep repeating. I want to believe in us, but it’s getting harder every day. We’re not just having moments of passion anymore; we’re living in a storm.”
Sukuna’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I don’t want to be the storm in your life. I just want to be with you. Please, let me show you that we can be more than this.”
As his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold reality of your situation. You said nothing as you leaned into the warmth of his body. The intensity of his words and the fire in his eyes were a powerful reminder of his hold on you. You forgave him that night once again, as you always did. And once again, you were trapped.
But beneath the surface of this passionate connection lay a darker undercurrent, one that grew stronger with time. Sukuna's emotional volatility was not just a fleeting characteristic; it was a core part of who he was. His moods shifted with little warning, swinging from intense affection to cold detachment. What seemed like an endearing quirk quickly revealed itself as a source of profound instability.
Sukuna's massive hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands you had painstakingly did. You were ignoring him again after your recent fight. You just wanted peace of mind from him. And you knew that he hated being ignored. You know he hated being forgotten. You were the only person in his life that dealt with him, all his everything — and to not have you there shatters him. As much, you suppose, when he shatters you by loving you.
His other hand wrapped around your side, pulling you closer against him with a possessive strength. You felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, his touch both demanding and overwhelming. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he started to kiss and nibble along your skin.
The kisses were intense, growing more fervent until he bit down, his teeth breaking through the delicate skin. A cry escaped your lips, a mix of pain and confusion. You could feel Sukuna speaking against your skin, his voice muffled and indistinct, but the words were lost in the haze of sensation and hurt.
The pressure of his hand on the back of your neck was unrelenting, anchoring you to him and heightening the intensity of the moment. It was only when his fingers pressed firmly against the nape of your neck that everything snapped into focus. The sharp reality of the situation cut through the fog, pulling you back to the present.
The biting pain, the tight grip, and the overwhelming closeness were all too much. You could see the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes, the storm of feelings that often clouded his judgment. In that moment, you were starkly aware of the power dynamics at play, the fine line between passion and control, and the deep-seated turmoil that defined your relationship.
The kiss, now a blend of pain and longing, was a stark reminder of the complexity of your love—both fierce and destructive. The intimacy of the touch, the raw intensity, and the sharp bite were all part of the same emotional spectrum, where passion and pain were often intertwined in ways that left you feeling vulnerable and conflicted.
You could feel your skin growing moist, a cold sweat breaking out across your entire body as you struggled to maintain your sanity against his relentless touch. Ryomen Sukuna had a way of overwhelming you, of winning you over even when you were trying to resist. His touch always managed to reach places you thought were well-guarded, stirring up sensations that you couldn’t ignore. You could feel your body betraying you, slick pooling between your legs, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind.
With a swift movement, Sukuna pinned you against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours. His kisses grew even more rough and demanding, each press of his lips a reminder of the intensity and chaos that defined your relationship. His hands roamed over your chest, fingers pinching and teasing, heightening the mix of pleasure and pain.
"Sukuna, slow down. It hurts." you cried out, your voice wavering as you tried to make yourself heard over the roar of conflicting emotions. The rawness in your voice was a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to make him see the damage being done. "Sukuna, we... oh, we won't fix anything with this."
His grip faltered for a moment, but only just. He paused, his breath ragged and heavy against your skin, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and desire. There was a flicker of hesitation, a moment where he seemed to question the reality of the situation. But the tension in his body remained, the emotional storm far from over.
Your heart pounded as you struggled to maintain your composure, to hold onto a shred of clarity amidst the haze of his touch. The physical connection was undeniable, but it was the emotional wreckage that left you feeling most exposed. The passion that once felt exhilarating now seemed like a dangerous force that threatened to consume you both.
"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations.
His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."
The declaration hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. You mewl softly, a sound of both surrender and confusion. His touch and words are a potent mix, stirring emotions that you’ve been trying to keep in check. 
In your turmoil, you find yourself grappling with the truth of his words. The love you shared is undeniable, and it’s clear he still feels it deeply. Yet, the intensity of him and the roughness of his touch make it hard to reconcile with the pain and frustration that have become a part of your relationship.
"Even if you love me….." you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We can’t fix everything like this. We’re hurting each other, Sukuna.”
He doesn’t pull away, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. The struggle between your emotions and his unyielding desire leaves you feeling torn, caught between the remnants of your past connection and the harsh reality of the present.
Sukuna’s grip remains firm, his dark red eyes not leaving yours. In this moment, the lines between love and pain blur — as it was with your relationship. The declaration of love feels both comforting and confounding, leaving you with the painful realization that while feelings might persist, the way you’re handling them is only adding to the emotional wreckage. You were in love with him as much as he was with you. But what was the point of this? Of this suffering?
But as he pleasured you, you never said anything. You just let him love you painfully, because that’s all he knew. It was a raw, visceral form of connection, a way he expressed what he felt, even if it was damaging. It was all he could give, the only way he knew how to bridge the gap between you.
As you felt him inside of you, there was a deep, painful connection that mingled with the physical sensations. It was a painful reminder of the way your love had always been—intense, consuming, and sometimes overwhelmingly conflicted. The pleasure was intertwined with the hurt, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. 
You accepted it, allowing the moment to unfold as it did. In your mind, you grappled with the reality of your situation—recognizing that this was how Sukuna knew to express his love, even if it was fraught with pain. And so, in the midst of the storm of sensations, you let yourself be caught up in the complexity of your emotions, trying to find a semblance of understanding amidst the chaos.
Arguments became frequent, fueled by misunderstandings and a growing sense of frustration. The intensity that once seemed thrilling now felt suffocating. Sukuna's need for control and dominance clashed with your desire for independence, creating a constant struggle for power. What was once exhilarating now felt like an endless cycle of conflict and resolution, each cycle leaving deeper emotional scars you didn’t want.
The tension in the air was palpable. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched in frustration, while Sukuna stood across the room, his posture rigid with anger and jealousy. His eyes were fixed on you, his gaze fierce and unrelenting, the result of a recent encounter with one of your friends who had been a bit too touchy for his liking.
"You’re always so quick to run off." Sukuna snapped, his voice sharp and laced with irritation. "Why can’t you just stay and deal with things like an adult? I’ve seen the way you look at others. Do you think I’m blind?"
You turned to face him, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. "It’s not about anyone else. It’s about us. You’re always so controlling. You want to dictate every part of my life. I need space, Sukuna. I need to be able to breathe."
His eyes flared with frustration as he stepped closer, the intensity of his emotions almost tangible. "Space? That’s what you call it? I saw the way you were with him tonight. It’s like you’re trying to push me away, like you’re looking for excuses to slip through my fingers."
You stood up, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "It’s not about looking for excuses. I’m not trying to push you away. I just need to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. This isn’t about him. It’s about the way you’re smothering me."
Sukuna’s frustration was evident in the way he paced the room, his fists clenched at his sides. "Smothering you? I’m just trying to hold onto what we have. If you’d stop running and actually listen, maybe we could work things out. But every time I turn around, it feels like you’re slipping further away."
"You’re not holding onto what we have, Sukuna." you said, your voice trembling. "You’re suffocating me. Every time we have an argument, you try to control me even more. I need space to figure out what I want without feeling like I’m being watched and judged every second."
Sukuna stopped pacing and looked at you with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I don’t want to control you. I want to be with you, but it feels like you’re constantly pushing me away. I just don’t know how to handle it when I see you getting close to others. It makes me feel like I’m losing you."
The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved emotions. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing you. But you also felt the deep, suffocating grip of his jealousy and control. The love that once felt exciting now seemed like a battleground, and the constant cycle of arguments and attempts at resolution were leaving both of you emotionally drained.
"I don’t want us to keep going in circles like this, Sukuna." you said softly, your heart aching. "We need to find a way to be together without this constant struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."
Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I don’t know how to change things if you won’t let me in, you know that." he said, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "I just want us to be okay, but it feels like we’re constantly fighting against each other."
You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the sting of his accusation. "That wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite. And even if I was, what does it matter? You can’t keep trying to control me like this. We can’t keep doing this.”
He stepped closer, his anger palpable. "You think you’re so perfect, don’t you? Always so independent, always so self-righteous. I’m the one who’s always fighting to keep us together. And this is how you repay me? By pushing me away and seeking attention from others?"
His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the control he exerted over your life. "This isn’t about repaying you. It’s about being true to myself. I’m tired of feeling like I have to constantly prove my loyalty to you. I’m not your possession."
Sukuna’s face contorted with frustration, and he slammed his fist against the wall. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you slip away while I’m left here fighting to keep us from falling apart? I’m trying to hold onto something real, and you’re pushing me away."
The hurt in his voice was undeniable, a mix of jealousy and desperation. But you could see the cracks in his control, the way his need for dominance had become a cage that both of you were trapped in.
"I’m not trying to push you away." you said, your voice trembling. "I’m trying to find a way to be myself without feeling like I’m suffocating under your expectations. We’re stuck in this cycle of fighting and making up, and it’s tearing us apart."
Sukuna’s expression softened for a moment, the anger giving way to a look of vulnerability. "I just don’t want to lose you. I know I’m not perfect, but I need you to understand how much you mean to me."
You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "I know you care, but the way you show it is suffocating. We need to find a way to be together without this constant power struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."
The room fell silent, the intensity of the argument leaving both of you exhausted. The love that once felt like a thrilling adventure now seemed like a battlefield, with each conflict leaving deeper scars. The vibrant energy that had once sparked between you was now overshadowed by an unrelenting cycle of discord and unresolved tension.
You wrapped your arms around your chest, as though trying to hug and comfort yourself amid the emotional wreckage. Your shoulders shook slightly with the effort to maintain composure, but even more tears were inevitable.
Sukuna’s posture was a reflection of his internal struggle, his anger giving way to a raw vulnerability. He took a hesitant step towards you, his voice trembling. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What can I do, to…to make you stay?”
The softness in his voice, the genuine plea for understanding, struck a deep chord. You could see the pain and desperation etched into his features, the realization of how precariously close he was to losing you. Yet, amidst the raw emotion, you felt overwhelmed and trapped.
“I don’t know,” you replied, your voice breaking as the tears began to fall freely. “I’m tired, Sukuna. I’m tired… of loving you and losing you all at once.”
His shoulders sagged as he absorbed your words, the weight of your exhaustion evident in his expression. The tears that prickled at his eyes now spilled over, reflecting the depth of his own despair. His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet yours, the crushing reality of your relationship settling heavily between you.
The room was filled with a profound silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your sobs and his choked breaths. The love you shared, which had once been a source of exhilaration and passion, now felt like a relentless cycle of joy and pain that neither of you could escape.
Sukuna’s voice was barely audible as he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of helplessness. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make things right when everything feels so broken.”
You wiped at your tears, the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil leaving you feeling drained. “Neither do I.” you admitted softly. “I wish I had the answers. I wish I could find a way to make things work, but right now, it feels like we’re stuck in a never-ending loop of hurt and confusion.”
Sukuna’s silence was heavy with resignation, a poignant acknowledgment of the struggle that had become an inescapable part of your relationship. The love that had once been a source of strength and excitement now seemed overshadowed by a painful reality that neither of you knew how to navigate.
In that quiet moment, both of you were left grappling with the depth of your feelings, the complexity of your relationship, and the painful truth that sometimes love alone isn’t enough to overcome the barriers that keep you apart.
Sukuna's tears continued to fall, and he moved closer, his steps hesitant but deliberate. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both gentle and desperate.
“I never meant to make things so difficult,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought... I thought if I held on tight, if I tried harder, we could work through it. But now, I see how much I’ve pushed you away.”
You looked at him, your own tears blurring your vision. The sight of him, vulnerable and torn, added to the weight of your own sorrow. You wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but the chasm between you felt insurmountable.
“I know you were trying,” you said, your voice cracking. “But the way you tried to control things... it pushed me away more than anything else. I felt like I was losing myself in trying to make things work.”
Sukuna’s hand tightened around your arm, his grip firm but not painful. “What do you need from me?” he asked, his voice desperate. “Tell me what I can do to make things right, to fix this.”
You shook your head, struggling to find the words to express the depth of your exhaustion and the confusion that clouded your mind. “I don’t know if there’s anything that can fix this right now. I just feel... lost.”
His expression softened, the realization dawning that perhaps the damage was too great to repair immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to handle my own fears and insecurities.”
You nodded, the sadness overwhelming. “I know. And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that we couldn’t find a way to make this work without hurting each other so much.”
The silence between you was heavy, filled with the echoes of what had been and what might never be again. The love that had once felt so alive now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the pain and the sense of inevitability.
Sukuna’s hand slowly fell away from your arm, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Maybe... maybe we both need some time apart to figure things out. To heal and find ourselves again.”
You looked at him, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. “Maybe you’re right. I need time to understand what I really want and to heal from all of this.”
Sukuna nodded, his face a mask of resignation and understanding. “I hope... I hope we can both find a way to be okay, even if it means being apart.”
With that, Sukuna turned and walked towards the door, each step heavy with the weight of what was ending. As he left, the silence of the room seemed to deepen. You sat down on the edge of the bed once more, your emotions a tangled mess of sadness and relief. The path ahead was uncertain, but in the quiet that followed, you felt more alone than ever before. But free. Freed from your own ruin.
▬ι══════════════ι▬
YOU COULDN’T DO IT ANYMORE IN THE END. In the end, you did break up with him. The cycle of arguments and reconciliation had become a never-ending loop, a house of cards that seemed destined to collapse no matter how carefully it was built. You loved him deeply, that was undeniable. But you also realized that rekindling the relationship would only lead to more pain, more hurt that neither of you could bear.
As you stood by the window, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting the world in soft hues of pink and gold. The sight was starkly beautiful, a contrast to the turmoil that had been raging inside you. This was what life should be like, you think. You shouldn’t settle for less. You shouldn’t settle for hurt.
Outside, you could see him—still there, lingering near your door, his figure slumped against the wall. He had a cigarette against the burrow of his lips, smoke filling his face. The remnants of a wild night clung to him; he was drunk and high, his posture wavering as he waited for you. The sight of him, lost and desperate, broke your heart in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision settle heavily upon you. You knew that as much as you loved him, returning to him now would only mean opening the door to a love that had become toxic, a love that had already left you shattered too many times.
“I can’t go through this again.” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. The realization was painful, but clear. The cycle of breaking up and making up had drained you emotionally, leaving you with scars that were too deep to ignore. “Not again.”
As the sun continued to rise, its light growing stronger, you turned away from the window, feeling a sense of finality. The decision to end things was not made lightly, and the pain of walking away was immense. But you knew it was necessary for your own well-being, for the chance to heal and find a path forward that wasn’t mired in the constant heartbreak that your relationship had become.
You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you reached for your phone. With a heavy heart, you composed a message, knowing it was the last thing you needed to say to him. Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you typed:
"Sukuna, this is the last time I’m reaching out. I can see you waiting outside, and I need you to understand that this is over. I love you, but we’ve reached a point where continuing this relationship will only lead to more hurt. The cycle of breaking up and making up has left us both wounded, and I can’t keep going through it. I need to move on and find healing for myself. Please respect my decision and let this be the end. I wish you well, but I can’t be with you anymore. Goodbye."
You stared at the message for a moment, feeling a mix of sadness and relief. With a final press of the send button, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. It was done. The words were out there, and now it was time to let go and start the process of healing. You took a deep sigh and pursed your lips into a flat line.
As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the room, you felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness. The end of this chapter was painful, but it was also a step towards a future where you could rebuild, where you could heal. It was a chance to find peace and to rediscover yourself, away from the shadows of a love that had become more damaging than fulfilling.
With a final, lingering glance at the window, you steeled yourself for the difficult road ahead. The love you had for  Ryomen Sukuna was real, but the decision to move forward was the right one. As the sun rose higher in the sky, you began to prepare for a new day, one that would be marked by both the pain of goodbye and the promise of new beginnings. You hope the best for him, as much as you hoped the best for you. 
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mrpenguinpants · 3 months ago
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You are all I long for, all I worship, and adore.
— It's strange seeing your future selves being so close when you thought you both hated each other guts.
— Jing Yuan, Dan Feng (& Dan Heng) + Sunday
[Masterlist]
Suspend your disbelief for the timeline of lore, please.
Update: When I originally wrote this, I wanted to do an entire "Fly Me to the Moon," series of fics based on time travel. Hence the title. Shout-out to that one person who was waiting for me to write Sunday. I didn't, but I see you. It will happen soon.
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Jing Yuan
This is the worst. The absolute worst thing ever. In the entirety of your living long life, this is the absolute worst moment so far. Were all the good times leading up to this moment? Did the Aeon's have some sick agenda, or were you randomly selected to be messed with today? If you had the option of eating literal trash bags for the rest of your life or continuing to live in this moment, you'd rather chew your own arms off. Maybe if you start now, you can save your future self the pain and humiliation of succumbing to...whatever this is.
"Aw, you were so cute when you were younger,” you - at least you think it’s you. This stranger wears the same face as you although a bit older. Perhaps alien would be a more fitting name? - this stranger coos as they cup Jing Yuan's face in their hands. Pinching cheeks with barely any fat on them with the sweetest smile you never knew you could even make. Jing Yuan, one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights who stared down an actual Lord Ravager, looks two seconds away from bolting like a scared cat. He hasn’t moved an inch since this started and honestly, as mortifying as this is, it’s way worse for him than it is for you. So naturally, you’re turning a blind eye and holding Yangqing hostage from saving his precious general of sweet words and praises.
”I see we didn’t get along at this point in time,” a deep voice muses above you from a man you’re very blatantly pretending to ignore. An older Jing Yuan stands beside you, amused at his younger self having a barely contained stroke. If it wasn't bad enough that a future version of yourself suddenly appeared, Jing Yuan just had to follow. Always a nuisance no matter his age. Maybe if you hold your breath, you’ll pass out and everything will blow over. It sounds less painful than trying to eat yourself from the outside in any way. Before you can start, a hand, heavy yet somehow gentle, is placed on your shoulder. “I don’t recommend trying to self-induce a suffocation. Nor attempt any cannibalism on the self either.”
Okay. That’s creepy. Do senior citizens suddenly gain mind-reading powers? You’ve heard the story that if a man stays a virgin until he’s 30, he'll become a wizard. You let out a huff of amusement at that thought, maybe that’s what’s happening. That amusement gets cut short when you realize that somehow, you fell for this 30-year-old virgin. You refuse to accept that out of spite. That story was meant for short-life species anyway.
“For all intensive purposes, I’m choosing to believe this is a nightmare and the first step to waking up from one is to induce pain,” you answer blandly, your grip on Yanqing finally waning as the boy sprints in for the rescue. Only to get swept up in the storm as your other self switches her attention to the kid. Sticky fingers and starry eyes have Yanqing disarmed before he can even lift a finger to summon his ice sword, falling prey to the musing of a Xianzhou auntie. Nevertheless, Yanqing does his job correctly because it allows Jing Yuan to finally escape as he stumbles over to you and his other self.
"How far the mighty have fallen," you snicker behind your hand at how ruffled Jing Yuan looks. His hair is a bit fluffy from how many times your future self ran their hands through it, and his cheeks are a bit pink. Probably from all the pinching. There's even a deep chuckle next to you to accompany your words as Jing Yuan coughs into his fist before straightening up properly. You can see Yanqing being given sweets behind his back and that alone buys the kids complacency.
"My apologies for that," Jing Yuan says as the older Jing Yuan simply laughs in response. Unserious and unfretted in everything.
Huh, now that you look closer. He has laugh lines.
"It is I that should apologize. We have disturbed your schedule with our, ahem, compliments," Other Jing Yuan chuckles once again, as if the fact that he has time traveled into the past was a small "disturbance". Aeons, you hate this guy in every form.
They go back and forth, talking in that faux politeness that never truly goes anywhere before you finally had enough of this. You're not sticking around for this tea-time pleasantries any longer than you need to. It's the exact reason why you left your position as the "Divine Foresight Counselor" and passed it off to Qingzu as soon as you could. Unfortunately, you're going up against two Jing Yuan's, so the moment you shift your shoe to take a step back to remove yourself from the conversation, two pairs of golden eyes snap to you. One is smiling, the other is frowning.
"Heading off?"
"Where are you going?"
You look between the two, older and younger, and you can feel your head beginning to hurt. You let out a sigh, rubbing your forehead, before ultimately picking the lesser of two evils. If you have to look into those love-stricken soft eyes one more time, you might actually pass away.
"Out. You don't need me here anymore do you, General? Or do I require your dismissal now?" you ask bluntly, turning to the Jing Yuan you're used to. The one who's supposed to be in this timeline. "If you need anything, I'm sure Diviner Fu would love to be of assistance."
You don't bother to wait for Jing Yuan to say anything, pivoting on your heel and marching out of the Exalting Sanctum. You glance at your other self, a bitter feeling rising in your chest when they look at you disapprovingly. You can tell they want to say something but one brief look to the side, where the two Jing Yuans stand, and they close their mouth and turn around. Regardless, there's no reason for you to stick around longer. As long as the time travelers stay within the exalting sanctum, no one will know they ever appeared in the first place.
As you near the exiting doors, nodding to the guards on each side, you spare one last glance back. Your sudden departure hasn't halted anything and Jing Yuan is speaking to both his other self and you. Yanqing huddles close, one of his hands in your other self's hand, as he tries his best to participate in the discussion. Realistically, you should set aside your petty pride and march back to help. Do something other than running away and letting everyone else pick up the pieces for you. But the doors are already open and you need a sweet drink desperately.
There's been a growing sour taste on your tongue every time your Jing Yuan stares longingly at the other you.
Dan Feng
There isn't a single word to describe the situation you're in right now. Strange? Uncanny? Just super weird? You've seen and done a lot of weird things in your long life, but this is the absolute weirdest thing that has ever happened to you - and you've seen a star collapse before.
“If you keep making that expression, it’ll stick on your face,” Jing Yuan muffles his laugh under his hand, keeping up with your brisk pace as you not-so-subtly run away from the situation thrust into your hands. A tactical retreat you call it. You give Jing Yuan a pained grimace for a brief second before focusing straight ahead again.
“Jing Yuan, I will make sure your promotion to General is riddled with paperwork,” you say straight-faced. He knows you’re lying, you adore your pseudo-nephew too much to do that to him, but it does make him jolt and respectfully keep his mouth shut. However, in exchange, it makes the third pair of footsteps all the more louder. The source of your current predicament and Jing Yuan's amusement. You peer over your shoulder at the young man just to make absolutely sure that you're not hallucinating. A tall, slender young man with blue eyes, fair skin, and black hair stares right back at you before quickly averting his gaze back to the ground. Even with his unique coat and clothing, he has the splitting image of that old lizard. Even though this stranger is younger...and without a stick up his ass either.
He said his name was Dan Heng. A "traveling guard" for the renowned Astral Express. He had sworn on his life that he was telling the truth but that didn't change the fact of who he looked like. If Jing Yuan hadn't been there to vouch for him, then you would have attempted to throw him off the Luofu yourself. According to Jing Yuan, he found the young man "asleep" under one of the ginkgo trees, but otherwise wasn't doing any harm to anyone. He had just appeared with no way to return to where he came from.
At least you have one thing in common: you both don’t want to be here.
"So, are you a distant relative? Is this your first time visiting the Luofu? Oh! Are you here to visit him for vidyadhara business?" Jing Yuan spitballs one question after the other, his barely contained excitement shining through. He had slowed his pace to walk side-by-side with Dan Heng, illustrating the differences between them. Jing Yuan barely reaches Dan Heng's waist, the standard cloud knight uniform looking plain compared to the other's elaborate coat. Teal clashing with blue. Although, they match in their one red accessory flapping in the wind.
Dan Heng awkwardly coughs into his hand, before giving Jing Yuan a rather embarrassed look, "I don't think it'd be wise for me to say anything. If you have any questions, you should ask my teacher..."
Dan Heng shoots you a look as he says the word 'teacher', to which you raise an eyebrow right back. You've never seen this specific man in your life, let alone taken on any students. You don't even like kids that much unless their name is Jing Yuan and even, he isn't fully nestled in your heart. But that's another weird thing about this whole situation. This mysterious "teacher" apparently came along for the ride, yet the man won't spare a single detail about them. Vague descriptions that could be for anyone but wouldn't be a definite confirmation. All in all, it's been a headache and not something you wished to do on a bright and sunny morning. It's frankly out of your pay grade to be babysitting wandering travelers, even if they look like the High Elder.
“We’re here,” you call out, abruptly stopping your near sprint as you feel two bodies collide into your back. One has the decency to step back with an apology while the other clings to your arm as he peers around your waist.
"The forge?" Jing Yuan questions, tilting his head almost fully sideways as the three of you look up at the unassuming blacksmith shop.
"Yep, we're visiting the only adult of the group. Come on, Yingxing should still be inside," you say eyes forward but your arm reaches behind you to hold onto the retreating body of Dan Heng, who has been quietly trying to step away as soon as you confirmed just where you were. Jokes on him, you're the master of running away from your problems- retreating. You're the master at tactical retreating.
Although it’s muffled, you can hear some commotion going on inside. Maybe an unruly customer who didn’t read the fine print and is now venting their frustration? You share a look of confusion with Jing Yuan as you strong-arm Dan Heng into coming inside.
Entering the store, it looks relatively normal? There's nothing out of place or anything to show there was a scuffle, but the argument is getting louder sounding from the back of the store, into the forge. Which is strange for two reasons. Firstly, Yingxing may not be a dragon but he guards the forge with his life. Secondly, the only other people allowed in aren't even in the area. A mutual understanding passes through the three of you, Dan Heng finally giving up on trying to escape with the death grip you have on his arm, and you all tip-toe to the back door. Jing Yuan being the smallest reaches the door first, his head peeking out, your head above his as you squint into the room, and Dan Heng above yours with a look of defeat.
“You selfish old lizard! I’d outta cut your tail off right now for all the trouble you caused you senile son of a-“
"Please calm down, this is still the High Elder you're speaking to!"
What you see is something you'd never expect to see, and you need to reiterate that you've seen a literal star collapse. An older version of you is being held back by Yingxing as they throw threats and cusses at Dan Feng, who looks relatively unbothered by the promises to maim him.
“Teacher!”
Dan Heng, who has kept the most monotone voice imaginable since meeting him, suddenly pushes himself forward. A small "ah!" comes from Jing Yuan as he flops onto the floor from the sudden movement. A spear you've definitely seen before materializes in his hand as he goes to swing at Yingxing, only to be parried away by an identical spear. If you thought the tension between your first meeting with Dan Heng was rough, this feels like the Aeons themselves are fighting against each other. Yingxing and the other you have gone slack in surprise as two vidyadhara's who share the same face are kept at a standstill. Two cloud piercers pointed at each other, poised and ready to strike again, the air growing more humid with sticky beads of water vapor suspended in the air. Well, if you had any doubts about Dan Heng looking way too similar to Dan Feng, this pretty much confirms it. They're the same person.
Your eyes slide to the other you.
A falling star has nothing on this.
Sunday
There's something off about this entire situation, and there are enough oddities to begin with, but there's just something that doesn't sit right with you. Was there such a thing as a second puberty? Is that what a "mid-life" crisis was? Aren't you supposed to dye your hair and buy a sports car when that happens? Because the person walking next to you is certainly not you. They're too...peppy.
When you first saw the "future you", you had assumed they were a figment of someone's imagination. A dream perhaps? In Penacony, it would definitely be possible, but who would want to dream of you? The other you didn't seem that weird either, just a bit older and more well-mannered, but otherwise exactly the same. They had greeted you cheerfully, even coming up to shake your hand because "it was the polite thing to do when greeting friends.". You didn't know how to react to that wording so you brushed it aside. Maybe in the future, you're some big shot? That's kind of exciting to imagine.
"So...any idea how you got here?" you ask, turning to the other you. It's kind of funny that you're escorting yourself but you doubt the future you remember's the winding pathways the Bloodhounds take to the main base. Although your boss is quite nonchalant, Gallagher has always had a steady head on his shoulders. If you can't figure out a way to fix this time travel business, he can at least play damage control.
"I'm not entirely sure. I was about to set out to welcome some new friends on behalf of my husband, and then I was suddenly here. Oh, I hope he isn't upset with me for disappearing," your other self hums, a hand on their cheek, before quickly jolting up, "Ah, I guess I should say our husband now."
You let out an awkward laugh to match their giggle. Although your future self doesn't look that much older than you, it seems you managed to get hitched with someone great. They always seem to slip the word "husband" into every sentence, heck- you're making new friends because of him. Your mother would weep tears of joy learning that fact. Although it does make you curious just who your supposed husband is. The only man you see more than once in your life is Gallagher, and respectfully, he's not your type. But then who else? Perhaps one of the patrons? You've heard the news that the IPC sent a handsome gambler with beautiful eyes. Perhaps that's who you've fallen in love with? You don't want to ask because you don't want to mess up the timeline and frankly, you don't want to ruin the surprise. To be honest, even though you never thought about marriage, it kinda makes you giddy knowing that in the future, you seem to love your husband so much. A bit too much but it's probably the honeymoon phase train never stopping.
You still can't help but shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong.
There's just the slightest sinister curl in their smile. As if they're secretly laughing at the expense of everyone while keeping on an angelic facade. It's unsettling and makes chills down go your spine when it's your face that does it. The only time you've felt this sense of unease was when you accidentally stumbled into Gallagher's private meeting with the Head of the Oak Family. The Halovian had simply smiled, inquiring who you were and holding his hand out for you to shake. Your fingers had just brushed against his white glove when Gallagher stepped in, gripping your wrist hard enough for bruises, and forcibly pushed you out the door.
"Someone not important."
That's what your boss had said. You thought he spoke so harshly because he was pissed at you for possibly giving the Oak Family a bad first impression. He pretended it never happened and you never brought it up, afraid he might fire you from your job.
"I don't mean to pry, but are you alright?"
You blink, shaken out of your thoughts by your future self's question. They smile at you kindly, a slight tilt to their head as they wait for you to answer patiently.
"Oh! Sorry, I kinda spaced out there for a bit..." You let out an awkward laugh. Your voice sounds weak even to you, but the other you just nods in understanding. Perhaps it's because it's technically you that you're talking to, or that feeling of foreboding, that you feel like you need to explain yourself, "I guess I haven't been sleeping well. Gallagher has me running errands on the other side of Penacony in preparation for the Charmony Festival. Between you and me, I think he's dumping his errands on me so he can slack off."
Your lighthearted chuckle tapers off when the other you doesn't respond in kind to your joke. In fact, bringing up Gallagher's name has completely cleared their face from that prim and proper mask. Leaving behind a blank expression with disinterested eyes before a blink, and there's that same smile smeared on.
"You speak rather fondly of him. It seems I'm farther into the past than I originally thought," they mumble to themselves. Although you pick up on the words easily, you double-take just to make absolutely sure those words came from them. Sure, Gallagher isn't the most traditional-looking boss but he's not a bad person. Especially not to you. When you were looking for a job, he was the one to approach you out of the blue to work under him as a Bloodhound. If he never showed up, you would have most likely wasted away as a paper pusher for one of the families. He's always forgiven your mistakes and always offered to escort you home even though you can take care of yourself. So why is your future self so unfriendly to someone you currently hold in high regard?
"Oh uh...did something happen between us and Gallagher? I mean, I always suspected I'd get fired but I don't know, I always thought we got along. I mean, he has been acting a bit weird since that Oak Family Head came around but he's probably just stressed, right? Oh wait- I don't think we should be talking about this. I don't want to start a butterfly effect, especially so close to the festival-" you muse only to get interrupted.
"If I were you, I wouldn't trust that dog so easily," your other self spits with so much venom that you take a step away. Is it possible that you misjudged how close you were with Gallagher? Your other self talks about him as if he had betrayed them on a personal level. This shouldn't be possible because you and Gallagher have a strictly professional relationship. Unless you potentially knew him before you arrived in Penacony? To be fair, your memory gets a bit hazy looking back but you're sure you would remember someone like Gallagher.
"Wha- Hey, I don't know what happened but you shouldn't call him a dog-"
"We're here."
You stop in your tracks. What? We're here? You look up and realize that you've completely walked off the beaten path and happened upon a door. In fact, if you remember correctly, this was the door you stumbled into when you first met that Halovian. When did it become your other self escorting you rather than the other way around? You thought they wouldn't know these back alley pathways anymore.
"Why are we here?" you ask tentatively. Realistically, you know nothing bad will happen to you, at least not physically. You're their past. Whatever happens to you will affect them. A small scrape here will become a scar for them later.
"You haven't been sleeping well correct? I remember when I used to have headaches all the time. But you'll be okay now, he'll make things all better. While it's a bit early, I'm sure you'll understand. You are me after all," they smile sweetly, taking your hand in theirs as they pull you in front of the door.
"Come now, let's go meet our husband. He's been eagerly waiting for you for a long time."
---
Small author's note: I fell into a pit and wrote way too much. If I didn't cut it off, this fic would take another year to finish. That's why there's no real ending, lol.
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iiotic · 2 months ago
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Uuu~ saw ur request open, Here a crack request if you want to write,(Wriothesley,Cyno,Childe and maybe Xiao?) S/o confidently said they "could take them in a fight" yes, saying that even after knowing how strong they are, wonder how they would react, would they play along let s/o beat them or just prove s/o's statement wrong lol
"I COULD TAKE YOU IN A FIGHT!"
summary: how'd wriothesley, cyno, childe and xiao react to their s/o saying that they could take them in a fight?
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tw: slightly angst on xiaos part, slightly suggestive on wriothesleys part? ? lowercase intended, gn reader. | wc: 0.5k
thank you sm for your request anon!! I actually rlly enjoyed writing this!! also I wrote this late at night so not proff read and might not make sense. its also the first time I write for wriothesley and childe and I hope they're not too out of character <//3
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── ꒰wriothesley. 。˚ ꒱
"sure you could babe" he'd say smoothly, looking at you from his papers. he smirked seeing you momentally caught off guard, then quickly regaining your composure.
"do you think i'm joking? im 100% serious." you huffed, seeing his expression. "we can fight right here, right now and I'd win!" you said a bit louder than expected, confidence radiating out of you.
he chuckled slightly as he saw you walking towards him. "oh no i totally believe you, but i must admit i didn't know what kind of fight you meant at first." he pulled you on his lap when you were close enough.
wait.. what did he mean by- oh..
── ꒰cyno. 。˚ ꒱
"no you couldn't." he'd say without thinking, not understating what you mean by that. were you being serious? were you joking? because this is not something to joke about.
after you said that you're completely serious, he looked like you just burnt all of his tcg cards. did you offend him? did you make him mad, sad? you didn't know. just as you were about to apologize he cut you off.
"you know this reminds me of one of my jokes" he clears his throat "why should you never fight a dinosaur? because you'll get jurasskicked!!"
terrible, absolutely terrible. you'd think that it's one of his worst jokes he made.
── ꒰childe. 。˚ ꒱
did he hear you correctly? you saying that you can take him in a fight? the eleventh fatui harbinger? oh bring it on.. don't take him wrong, he'd never actually hurt you! however when you look at him from above with that confidence in your eyes, and with that sweet little grin trying so hard not to burst out laughting. might as well test you right?
"c'mon then, i promise i'll be gentle." he said sitting up from his previous position on the bed. he chuckled slightly as you launched at him, practically making him lay down. you sitting on top of him while he pretends to fight back.
everything ended up with you and him playfighting, him obviously losing to you. definitely a core memory.
── ꒰xiao. 。˚ ꒱
the room was silent after you said that sentence, it wasn't one of those comfortable silence moments but not one of those awkward ones either. were you joking? he'd think. was it one of your pranks again?
"You clearly have no respect for the adepti." he'd say unintentionally harshly.
he was surprised when you wanted to prove him that you're stronger then him, he'd refuse. he'd never fight you, he would never raise his hand at you. you were his everything, his significant other, his soulmate and even if you'd leave him, betray him demanding to fight, he'd refuse once again. why? because he loves you.
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