#someone message me about that later if you care about that

[theereina]

New Year, Same Bullshit

Pairing: Toxic Babydaddy!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), oral (male receiving), P in V, Toxic Dom!Terry *if you squint and turn your head*, cum play *sort of*, brattiness galore, facials *no spa*🤭

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

ding

Terry: I hope all is well. My mom told me she has TJ. Hope you enjoy yourself tonight.

Me: I hope I do, too.

Terry: I was thinking about something earlier.

Me: ???

Terry: New Year, new us?

I paused for a second in disbelief. I knew this man was not trying this bullshit tonight. I guess this year's motto was “new year, same bullshit”. I sat there for a second and stared at myself in my vanity's mirror.

I could feel the petty in me rising. I texted Terry back with nothing but ill intentions. “New year, new us”, huh?

Me: Nah. New year, and new dick. Cheers to 2025!🥂✨

I waited until I knew Terry saw the message and blocked his number. I knew I was pushing Terry's buttons but oh well.

2 hours later

“Lele, ain't that Terry?” asked one of the women who came out with me and my best friend.

“Aww, hell. Lele, it is him. He's coming this way, and he looks pissed!” my best friend, Tyler, said.

“I don't care. What he gonna do? Whoop me!” I laughed out loud, spinning to see Terry barreling through the crowd.

I stopped dancing when I saw his face. Maybe, I shouldn't have said that.

“Terry, wait? I didn't mean—,” I said as soon as he stood before me.

“Nah… You meant that shit. New dick, huh?” Terry said, eyeing me down.

As much as I was scared for my life, I was hoping that this night would end the way I wanted it to. Fuck! I needed this.

“You think that shit was funny? Ty, y'all here alone, or did she come with someone?” he asked, looking towards Tyler.

“Terry, I didn't come h—,” I started to speak.

Terry's eyes darted back to meet mine.

“Love, I wasn't talking to you. I asked Tyler. When I want you to speak, I'll let you know.”

“Oh, shit. He not playing with her ass,” said one of the women in the group.

“Yes, we came alone. No, she didn't come here with anyone. I promise,” Tyler said, looking at me.

“I can't believe you're doing this shit right now,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What did you say? I couldn't hear you,” Terry spat, glaring down at me.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Yeah, that's what the fuck I thought. Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. I'll be waiting for you when you get home,” he said, holding the back of my head and kissing my forehead.

“Huh? You don't live with me,” I uttered in confusion.

“I still have my key, and I pay the bills there. Don't I? Oh, okay then. Like I said, I'll see you when you get home,” he said, letting me go.

“Oh, and do me a favor, love. Don't drink too much. I need you alert and responsive tonight,” Terry said, walking away.

As I watched Terry leave, I felt my heart racing. There was no calming down from this.

“Fuck me!” I yelled quietly as soon as Terry was out of sight.

“Girl, what the fuck did you do this time?” Tyler asked me, handing me a drink.

I looked at the fruity concoction like it was poison. I knew this sugary ass shit wasn't going to do anything to call my nerves. I shrugged my shoulders and swallowed the drink in two full gulps.

“Damn! That man finna tear yo' ass up. Ain't he?” one of the women asked while laughing.

“You don't even know the half. Tyler, can you keep yo’ godson tomorrow? I got a funny feeling I'm not gonna be straight after tonight,” I asked Tyler, searching her eyes for sympathy.

“Yeah, I got my baby. Now, you just tell me what the fuck you did,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, Ty. I think I fucked up this time,” I said, shaking my head. I pulled her over to one of the couches in the section, hoping that I could talk to her privately.

As I proceeded to tell Tyler what happened, I could see her face shift from concern to amusement.

“Why do you look like you wanna laugh?” I asked when I finished.

“Uh, sis… How did he know where you were?” Tyler asked, looking at me with concern.

“I don't… I don't know. How the fuck did he know I was here?” I asked, questioning myself more than Tyler.

4 nerve-racking hours later

I had literally spent all night trying to come up with a reason not to come home. I knew that whatever was on the other side of that door was going to be— something memorable.

I made sure to stop drinking hours ago. His “alert and responsive” remark was a warning that only WE understood. My insides were screaming because I knew Terry had a way of breaking me down and putting me back together again in the most— sensual and pleasurable way. Yes, there may be pain involved, but I couldn't care less.

I was well aware of what came with provoking Terry. At this point, it was a game for me, and my prize was always the best dick a girl could ever ask for. That was definitely the one thing I missed about having Terry living at home— the in-house, on-demand dick. Always hard, and always ready.

It was a little after 4 in the morning. I was pushing my luck coming in this late, but I might as well fully enjoy what may be my last night out for a while. I was either about to get fucked up, be fucked, or both.

After realizing that Terry's truck was nowhere to be found, I scanned the streets to see if he parked there instead. Nothing.

I reluctantly began walking to the door. How was this possible? Even the walk up to my front door was causing me anxiety. Every goddamn step felt like I was approaching the gates of hell. Was I really letting this man make me feel like a child coming home when they know they're getting an ass whooping? Yes.

I slowed my steps and began putting my hair in a ponytail. If it's one thing I knew, this ponytail may save my life. Then again, it may do the opposite. Aww, fuck!

I tossed my heels and purse into one hand while adjusting my keys with the other. Placing the key into the keyhole, I quietly unlocked the door. I paused before opening the door, praying that Terry wasn't standing on the other side.

Sliding inside as quickly as I could, I tiptoed inside the house and locked the door. From what I could see, he wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. I stood quietly in an attempt to possibly hear if he was somewhere in the house. I flattened my back against the door since I was still unsure of my surroundings.

From somewhere to the right of me, I heard something dart towards me. I turned around in a panic. Right as I was about to make a run for it, I saw that the culprit had a tail. I WAS ABOUT TO RUN FROM MY DAMN CAT!!!

I took a deep breath and leaned down to pick up the cat. But… As soon as my knees hit the floor, I felt a hand on the back of my head. I screamed out in shock, startling the cat.

“Oh, nah. Shit that shit up! I told you I would be waiting for you. Didn't I?” Terry growled, pulling me by my ponytail.

Like I said. The ponytail was a gift and a curse.

“Just…” I yelled, grabbing his hands in my hair.

“Touch me again. I dare you. Imma do more than tie yo’ ass up!” Terry said, holding my face to look up at him.

“Terry, I'm sorry. I was just jo—!” I started, letting my hands fall beside me.

“That was supposed to be a joke. Ha! We gone see what's funny in a minute.” Terry said, letting go of my hair.

As much as my brain was telling me to run, my pussy was begging me to stay even more.

Terry's hand wrapped around my forearm. “Stand up!” he barked.

“Please, I said I’m—,” I said, standing to my feet.

“If I have to tell you to shut up again…” Terry said, pulling me to face him.

I used the back of my hand to wipe the tears that were now falling.

“I hope you don't think those tears are stopping shit. Ain't no sense in crying. You did this to yourself, Alicia. I was trying to be nice to you, but you just don't know when to leave me the fuck alone,” Terry said, stepping closer to me.

I gulped as he glared at me, blinking slowly. Every breath he released was hot and heavy— weighed down in anger. It's as if he was battling to control himself.

“You thought that shit was so cute. Didn't you? I bet you and your little friends had a good laugh at that, huh?” Terry said, leaning down and resting his forehead on mine.

“You can speak, now. Choose your words wisely,” he said. He straightened his posture and stood to his full height, holding his hands in front of him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't tell anyone but Tyler. I swear,” I spat out as quickly as I could.

Terry paused to look at me. His eyes darkened in lust and anger. I let my gaze drop to the floor.

“Nah, you know better. Eyes on me at all times, right?” Terry demanded.

“Yes,” I said, trailing my eyes up Terry's body. I let my gaze linger on the bulge that had grown in his jeans.

“Unh unh. You gone see that in a minute. Look at me, Alicia!” Terry said, forcing me to look at him.

I rubbed my forearm nervously. I waited for Terry to say something else. Instead, he turned on his heels and sat on the couch.

Leaning back on the couch, he placed his arm over the back. “Better yet. Come here and bring your phone with you,” he said, motioning for me to approach him.

I slowly picked up my phone from the floor and walked up to him. I stood between his legs. He dropped his gaze to the floor, letting me know to kneel. I kneeled in front of him while never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl. Thank you for finally listening. Give me your phone.”

Handing him my phone, my mind immediately started to race. I knew if this man went through that phone. My ass was grass!

“Terry, wait!” I yelled, stopping him.

“Oh, you must be hiding something. You are crazy as hell if you think I can't go through a phone that I pay for every month. However, that's the least of my concerns right now,” he scoffed, tossing the phone beside him on the couch.

“I just… I… I know that… if…,” I stuttered.

“Don't even worry about it, love. Because after tonight, it won't matter what nigga is in that phone. You'll know who you belong to. I can promise you that.”

Terry leaned forward, grabbing the side of my face firmly. I gasped in anticipation.

“I don't understand why you choose to play with me, baby girl. Here I am asking for my family back, and your ass wants to play these childish ass games.”

“Terry, baby. I—,” I said before he placed his hand around the front of my throat. I instantly shut my mouth.

“Look at that! How sweet. I didn't even have to do it, and you knew.” Terry said, biting his bottom lip. He moaned as he watched me. He was more than thrilled with my natural obedience.

Moving his hand to cup my chin, he let his thumb trace the silhouette of my bottom lip.

“Mmm… Daddy misses these lips. The way they look, the way they feel— everything!”

Terry's hand let go of my chin as he sank back into the couch. I watched fervently as he undid his belt. Making quick work of his pants, he freed himself from the confinement of his boxers.

I eyed his dick, waiting for his permission to even touch it.

“I told you you'd get to see it. Unfortunately, touching it ain't an option. At least not right now, especially with that foul mouth of yours.”

My face dropped in disbelief as I began to pout.

“What you will get to do is watch me. Watch me while I… uh… make you wish it was you handling this for me.” Terry laughed while lifting my head back up to watch him.

So, it begins. This is the part where he breaks me.

Terry wrapped his hand firmly around the base of his dick. “All you had to do was behave, but you just can't. I bet you'll be on your best fuckin’ behavior after tonight.”

Terry's hand stroked the length of his shaft. His contentment was already evident as small droplets of precum began to leak from his tip.

I rested my hands on my thighs, pressing my fingertips into the cushion of my thighs. I was fighting the urge to lick what I felt was mine; however, I knew that wouldn't end the way I wanted. Licking my tongue out, I let it slide across the flesh of my bottom lip.

Terry grunted in response. My eyes darted from his dick to his face. His eyes were low and wanton. He was just as needy as I was. Our gazes locked in fervor, passing a mutual message that intensified the salacious hunger between us.

Terry's hand sped up and tightened around his head. His grunts grew deeper and more primal. He was feigning to cum.

I tilted my head and lowered my gaze, pleading with my eyes. Sitting here with my hands in my lap wasn't enough for me. I whined while wiggling my hips, trying to feel something to help the ache between my legs.

“Fuck! You got 3 minutes to make me cum or else!” Terry said, leaning up and grabbing the back of my head.

He didn't even have to finish his movement. My mouth was on his dick before he could even grab me. I was horny, I was needy, and most importantly, I was hungry.

I took all of Terry in on a single inhale not giving a fuck about my throat. I needed this. I let saliva fall from my mouth and down the sides of his shaft. Pulling back, I hollowed out my cheeks and created a vacuum around the head of Terry's dick.

“Ahhh, fuck. You… you always know… ugh.. exactly what to do, baby girl. That's right. This dick is yours, mama. Ahhh, shit. Keep going, baby,” Terry said, stroking the side of my face.

I moaned around his dick. Swallowing his full length again with pride, I smiled around him. Opening my mouth slowly, I sunk down further until my nose hit the patch of hair he grew there. Relaxing every muscle in my throat I let him sit in the back of my throat while I hummed and moaned in pleasure. This… this was the ache I was seeking. This was what I wanted to feel— the burn and stretch of this very moment.

I pulled off of Terry with a pop, watching as a thin string of saliva and cum fell from my lips. Grabbing him mid-shaft, I began to jerk his dick. Fully consumed by my own pleasure, I failed to immediately take notice of Terry's silence.

I looked up to see Terry's eyes closed as he released a slew of low, rough moans. I instantly put my mouth back on him, focusing solely on his head. Using my tongue to massage his tip, I was hoping to push Terry over the edge.

Watching him closely, I marveled at the sight before me. His head had rolled back on his shoulders, and his bottom lip was tucked in between his teeth. As I felt Terry's dick begin to pulse, I took him into the back of my throat again. I wanted every drop of him, and I was going to make sure I got it.

Letting him paint the back of my throat was the only thing on my mind. I started sucking Terry like my life depended on it. His hand gripped the back of my head, but even that didn't stop me. I rested my hands on Terry's legs for support as I put my all into it.

As soon as I felt like the first drops of cum were about to make an appearance, Terry grunted and pulled me back. His dick fell from my mouth and into his own hands. Leaning my head back, Terry stroked himself twice before erupting— all over my face.

I closed my eyes, feeling the warm sticky substance coat my eyelashes along with my forehead, nose, and lips. I exhaled as I thanked God that I closed my eyes in time.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!” Terry barked as I felt him moving around.

I opened my mouth and felt him push his dick inside again. Resting the full weight of his dick on my tongue, he told me to keep my mouth open.

“Smile!” he said as I heard a camera shutter.

Without a second thought, my eyes shot open.

“For memories. Adding it to the stash.”

Of course! That's what the fuck he wanted the phone for. I pulled back, letting his dick fall out. “I told you that you're mine. Didn't I?” he said, leaning up.

“Oh, don't think we're done either. Stand up!” he nodded.

I rose to my feet, wobbling. As I stood before Terry, I went to wipe my face. His hand reached out to grab my hand.

“Nah, baby girl. You gone wear that shit with pride. I plan on marking my territory in more ways than one. There will be no creampies tonight,” he warns, standing from the couch.

“But Terry I—,” I said.

His arms wrapped around my waist as he lifted me. Wrapping my legs around him, he turned to walk towards the hallway. My body practically melted into him as I clung to his back. I began to whine and moan while kissing his neck.

“Daddy missed this pussy— MY pussy,” Terry moaned as his hands pushed the strapless dress I wore up past my stomach. The thin fabric began bunching up.

“Ahhh, mmmm. Fuck!” I moaned, placing my hands around his neck.

As we approached the bedroom door, Terry didn't even reach to open it. Instead, he opted for kicking it open.

“Don't worry. I'll fix it!” he grinned.

Walking to the foot of the bed, he laid me directly in the middle. He stepped back and completely undressed himself. God Lord, I missed this body.

I leaned up and began kissing and touching his abdomen. Moving my hands out of the way, Terry's hands went to the neckline of the dress as he leaned over me. In one swift move, he tore the top of the dress in half, continuing to tear the fabric from my body until nothing was left.

While I was preoccupied with my own thoughts, he pushed me down onto the bed. Climbing onto the bed and settling between my thighs, he wrapped my legs around his waist.

Looking at me with the most sinful smirk, he entered me in one thrust. I gasped out in both pain and pleasure. We hadn't had sex in over four months. The feeling of him stretching my pussy out sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

“You gone feel me tonight, baby. All of me,” he said, leaning down to kiss my neck.

Pulling every inch of his dick out to the tip, he inserted himself again. He was clearly on a mission.

Thrust after thrust…

“So, you gone give my pussy away? Huh? Answer me when I'm talkin' to you!” he said, thrusting into me harder.

“No!” I yelled as my back arched off the bed.

Using nothing but his body weight, Terry flattened me out again. “No, ma'am.” He said, pulling out to thrust back in again. “The fuck you moving for? You gone take this dick. It's yours, ain't?” he asked, kissing my chin.

“Yes, this… this is… ahhh, fuckkk… This is my dick!” I screamed out as he pounded into me. Every thrust knocked the syllables from my lips.

“That's right. This your dick, baby. All of it! Every fuckin' inch, mama! Now, what you gone do with it, huh?” he growled in my ear, taunting me.

“I'm… gonna… fuckin'… take… it!” I whimpered. His thrusts began to pick up speed.

“Good girl, and you gone let me cum wherever I want to, right?” Terry coaxed, hitting my g-spot over and over again.

“Yes!” I yelled, clawing at Terry's back.

I was so close to cumming, and this shit felt so damn good. Hell, I'd even let him cum on my face again.

“I knew my baby would. Who pussy this is, mama?” he asked, smirking.

“Yours! For… ever! Terry, please! Can… ohhhh… can I cum?” I begged as I felt my climax quickly approaching.

“You better wet this dick up, too. Come on, baby.” Terry uttered softly, talking me through it. “Oouu… look at my baby,” he said, fucking me through my orgasm.

“Terry!” I moaned out, digging into his forearms.

“Look at that shit! Wet as fuck!” he said, watching himself slip in and out.

“Yes! Shit! Ohhh, fuck!” I gasped as he slowed his strokes.

“Yeah! Just like that. You ready? Tell Daddy that you're ready,” he groaned clearly at his peak.

“Please, Daddy! Cum for me!” I yelled.

Terry pulled out, aiming straight for my pussy and stomach. I watched intently as ropes of cum landed on my lower abdomen and the mound of my pussy. Using his dick, Terry began to mix the remainder of his cum into my own. He beamed as he created a disgusting and sloppy mess between my legs.

“I wish you could see it, baby. It's so pretty,” he said, looking up. His eyes roamed over the entirety of my body, lingering on the areas covered in his cum. “You look so pretty, mama,” Terry praised.

“I know I do, and it's all because of you,” I said, pulling Terry in for a kiss.

Taglist: @episodes-ff @babybratzmaraj @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @kimuzostar @confessionsofadramaqueenn @luvrsluxe @blackmoonchilee @meannaim @nayaesworld @msdmc1 @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymindisneverhere @brattyfics @avoidthings @honeytoffee @peachbuttetfly @melaninadorned @theglamclosetsl @simplyzeeka @dxddykenn @charismablu @blackerthings @slutsareteacherstoo @vivaalenaa @becauseimswagman1 @keehendrixx @teeresaresa @beenathembo @inthekeyofshe @notapradagurl7 @blowmymbackout

This taglist is random and sort of thrown together. Sorry.😔

[hazzashouse]

Through the Darkness (Harry Styles one shot)

This topic is incredibly important to me. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, please know you don’t have to go through it alone. Reach out to someone you trust—a friend, a family member, or a professional. You are not alone, and you are loved. There is strength in asking for support, and there are people who want to be there for you. You are never alone.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Triggers: Depression, anxiety, emotional distress, mentions of isolation, self-doubt, and heavy themes of mental health struggles. Please read with care.

The world outside your apartment window was cold and colorless, mirroring the ache in your chest. Days blurred into nights, the sun rising and setting without your notice. It had been weeks since you last stepped outside for more than a grocery run. Even then, the strain of smiling at the cashier left you drained for days.

The depression you thought you’d left behind had returned, a familiar weight pressing against your chest, heavy and relentless. It was worse this time because it felt like failure. You’d been doing so well—hadn’t you? Harry had told you how proud he was. Your friends had said you seemed lighter. And now, here you were again, feeling like a burden to everyone you loved.

Harry was away on tour, as he always was this time of year. The texts and calls were there, of course. But you hadn’t told him. You couldn’t. His life was busy, full of flashing lights and cheering crowds, and you couldn’t bear to drag him into the shadows with you. He didn’t need that—not when he was living his dream.

So you suffered in silence, telling yourself you’d find your way out. Except, you didn’t.

Your best friend, Emily, was the first to notice. She’d stopped by unexpectedly, armed with a smile and coffee. You hadn’t answered her texts for days, and she’d decided to check in. When you opened the door, she froze, her face dropping.

“Hey…” she said softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What’s going on, babe?”

You didn’t have the energy to lie.

Emily took one look at the unwashed dishes, the unopened curtains, and the dark circles under your eyes and immediately understood. She’d seen this before.

“Oh, love,” she murmured, pulling you into a hug. The warmth of her arms broke something inside you, and the tears you’d been holding back spilled over.

Emily didn’t leave that night. She made you tea, coaxed you into eating something, and stayed until you fell asleep. The next morning, she tried to talk to you about reaching out to Harry.

“He’ll want to know,” she said gently. “He loves you. You know he’d drop everything.”

But you shook your head. “I don’t want to ruin his tour. He’s happy.”

Emily sighed but didn’t push. Instead, when you weren’t looking, she sent Harry a message herself:

Hey, I know you’re busy, but she’s struggling again. She didn’t want me to tell you, but I think you should know. Call me when you can.

Harry didn’t see the text until hours later. His phone had been in the dressing room while he performed to a sold-out crowd. When the show ended and he finally unlocked it, Emily’s message was waiting.

He read it twice before his heart sank.

————————

Harry’s decision to leave wasn’t even a question. His team tried to reason with him, suggesting he finish the next two shows before taking a break, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly. “She needs me. She’s more important than any of this.”

————————

The sound of a key in the lock woke you from a restless sleep. You sat up, your heart pounding as the door creaked open. When Harry’s familiar figure appeared, relief and guilt warred inside you.

“Harry?” Your voice cracked.

He didn’t say anything at first, just crossed the room in a few strides and pulled you into his arms. His chest rose and fell against yours, and you realized he was trembling.

“I’m here, love,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m here.”

You didn’t mean to cry, but his presence—his warmth, his steady heartbeat—was the comfort you hadn’t known you needed.

Harry didn’t try to fix you. He knew better than that. Instead, he stayed close, quietly reminding you of his love in the small ways that mattered most.

He opened the curtains one morning and sat with you on the couch, not saying a word as you watched the sunlight pour in.

He ran a bath for you, adding your favorite lavender oil, and sat outside the door in case you needed him.

He cooked meals you didn’t have the energy to eat but never made you feel guilty for it.

On the hardest days, when leaving the bed felt impossible, he stayed with you, holding your hand as if anchoring you to the world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told you one night, his voice steady. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it—I’m here.”

Slowly, the darkness began to lift. Harry’s patience, his unwavering support, created space for you to breathe again. He reminded you of the things you loved—the music you used to listen to, the books you hadn’t touched in months, the way your laughter used to fill the room.

It wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks. But with Harry by your side, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be okay.

One afternoon, as you sat together on the couch, you looked at him and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, his green eyes soft.

“For loving me. For staying.”

Harry smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

And in that moment, you knew it was true.

————————

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

[elryuse]

Yandere Wonyoung x Male Reader

Wonyoung & y/n have been friends since childhood and promised to get married when they grow up..but since Wonyoung became an idol and got great success, she start to forget y/n and said rude things to y/n..at the same time, she's in a relationship with a male idol..y/n knows about it and feels very disappointed and slowly forgets Wonyoung

a few months later, Wonyoung compared between that male idol with y/n and felt that y/n was the best..after that, she start tracking y/n & willing to kill anyone who stood in her way.

The Price of a Broken Promise

Yandere Wonyoung X Male Reader

The rain poured heavily outside as Wonyoung sat alone in her luxurious apartment, staring blankly at the dim glow of her phone. News articles, tweets, and viral videos filled the screen, all focused on the same scandal: San, her boyfriend, caught cheating with another idol. The images of him smiling, holding someone else’s hand, sent a sharp pang through her chest.

The betrayal stung, but it wasn’t just San’s actions that haunted her tonight. As she curled up on the couch, her mind drifted back to a promise she had made long ago, to someone who had once meant everything to her.

“Y/n,” she whispered his name for the first time in years, the sound foreign yet painfully familiar.

She closed her eyes, letting the memories resurface. She saw his shy smile, the way his hand would always reach for hers as they walked home together. He had been her anchor, her unwavering support during the uncertain days of their childhood.

But she had let him go.

Her fame as an idol had taken over her life, pulling her further and further away from the boy who had once been her entire world. It wasn’t just time or distance that had severed their bond—it was her own selfishness.

“Wonyoung, don’t forget me, okay?” Y/n had said once, his voice soft but earnest.

“I could never forget you,” she had replied with a laugh, brushing off his concern. But she had forgotten him—forgotten their promise, forgotten his love.

And worse, she had pushed him away.

Her chest tightened as she remembered their last conversation, months before she debuted. He had called her late at night, worried about her.

“Wonyoung, are you okay? You haven’t replied to my texts,” he had said, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I’m just busy,” she had replied coldly.

“I just wanted to remind you I’m here for you—always.”

“I don’t need you,” she had snapped, her frustration boiling over. “Stop calling me.”

She could still hear the silence that followed, the hurt in his voice when he finally said, “Okay. I understand.”

That had been the last time she heard from him.

Now, years later, she realized the enormity of her mistake. Y/n had been the one constant in her life, the one person who had loved her unconditionally. And she had thrown him away for a fleeting romance with someone who didn’t even care enough to stay faithful.

The guilt hit her like a tidal wave. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she searched for his number.

Her heart sank when the call didn’t go through.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She tried again, but the same robotic message greeted her.

“Why did I let you go?” she sobbed, clutching the phone to her chest.

The days that followed were a blur. Wonyoung couldn’t focus on anything—rehearsals, photoshoots, interviews. Her manager noticed the change.

“Wonyoung, what’s going on with you?” he asked one afternoon, his tone sharp. “You’re distracted, and it’s starting to show.”

“I just need some time,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Time for what? You have responsibilities, a career—”

“I need to find someone,” she interrupted, her voice trembling.

Her manager stared at her, baffled. “What are you talking about? You don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, standing abruptly. “I’ve already lost the most important person in my life because of this career. I’m not losing him forever.”

“Wonyoung, be reasonable—”

“I’m done listening to reason,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m going to find Y/n.”

She spent weeks searching, reaching out to mutual friends, scouring social media, even looking through old emails in the hope of finding some trace of him. It was through one of those emails that she found an old message from him, dated two years ago.

Wonyoung,

I know you’re busy, and I know your life is different now. But I just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. If you ever need me, just call.

- Y/n

Her tears blurred the screen as she read his words. He had been there for her, even when she didn’t deserve it. And now he was gone.

Wonyoung’s search eventually led her to New York, where she had heard he had moved. She didn’t know what she would say if she found him. She didn’t even know if he would want to see her. But she had to try.

When she finally knocked on the door of a small apartment in the city, her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear the rain that drenched her.

The door opened, and there he was.

“Y/n,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He stared at her in shock, his expression unreadable. “Wonyoung?”

Before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n stepped back, his face hardening. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Why now?” he asked, his tone cold. “After all this time, why now?”

She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “I was selfish. I hurt you, and I let you go. I let everything go, and I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”

“You don’t get to just walk back into my life,” he said, his voice sharp. “You don’t get to show up here and expect me to forgive you.”

“I know,” she said, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please… just listen to me.”

Y/n clenched his fists, his emotions a whirlwind of anger, pain, and something else he couldn’t quite name. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” she said desperately. “You mattered more than anything. I was just too blind to see it.”

He shook his head, turning away. “Why are you really here, Wonyoung? Is it guilt? Regret? What do you want from me?”

“I want you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to make things right. I want to keep the promise we made.”

Y/n froze, her words cutting through him like a knife. For so long, he had dreamed of hearing her say those words. But now that she had, it felt hollow.

“You don’t get to fix this with a few words,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Trust doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know it’ll take time. But I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Y/n looked at her, searching her face for sincerity. For the first time, he saw it—the raw, unfiltered regret and love she had buried for so long.

But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight. And love, once broken, wasn’t so easily mended.

Wonyoung returned to Seoul after her meeting with Y/n, but she wasn’t the same. The regret and longing that had once been a dull ache had transformed into something far more potent. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—his indifferent expression, his cold tone. The man she had once known as her Y/n was no longer hers.

And that thought drove her mad.

She sat in her darkened apartment, scrolling through her phone for the hundredth time. She had found his social media accounts, though they were sparse. His life seemed simple now—pictures of cityscapes, books, and an occasional group photo with friends. But it was the women in those group photos that caught her attention.

Who were they? Friends? Coworkers? Or something more?

Her grip on the phone tightened, her chest heaving with anger at the mere thought of Y/n laughing with another girl, confiding in someone else, smiling for someone else.

“No,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “He’s mine. He promised me. We promised each other.”

Her thoughts spiraled, and with each passing day, her obsession grew.

Wonyoung began to neglect her career. She would cancel rehearsals, ignore her manager’s calls, and avoid public appearances. Instead, she spent her days tracking Y/n’s life from afar. She learned the names of his coworkers, memorized his daily routines, and even discovered where he liked to eat lunch.

One day, she booked a flight back to New York, unable to stay away any longer.

Y/n was sitting in a café near his office, typing away on his laptop, when he felt a familiar presence. He looked up, and his heart sank.

“Wonyoung?”

She stood there, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a desperate kind of determination.

“I needed to see you,” she said softly, taking a seat across from him without waiting for an invitation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone laced with frustration.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you every day. I need to make this right.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Wonyoung, we talked about this. I told you I needed time.”

“I know,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “But I can’t wait. I can’t let you go. You’re all I think about, Y/n. I can’t… I can’t live without you.”

Her words unsettled him. There was something unhinged in the way she spoke, in the way her hands clenched the edge of the table as if holding on for dear life.

“You can’t force this,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You need to move on.”

“Move on?” she repeated, her eyes widening. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Wonyoung, we were kids. Things are different now. You need to understand that.”

Her lips quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes. “No. No, you’re wrong. Things don’t have to be different. We can fix this. I can fix this.”

Y/n shook his head, his frustration mounting. “You’re not listening to me. This isn’t healthy—for either of us.”

She stared at him, her tears falling freely. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

But he did mean it. He stood, grabbing his laptop and bag. “I think you should leave, Wonyoung. Please don’t come back.”

She watched him walk away, her heart shattering all over again. But as the pain consumed her, a darker resolve began to take shape.

Wonyoung sat in her hotel room that night, replaying their conversation over and over in her mind. Y/n was pushing her away, but she couldn’t let him. He was hers. He had always been hers.

Her thoughts turned to the women she had seen in his photos. She imagined them laughing with him, touching him, taking her place. The idea was unbearable.

“No one else can have him,” she muttered to herself, pacing the room.

Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more twisted than the last. If Y/n wouldn’t come back to her willingly, she would make him. And if anyone tried to stand in her way, they would regret it.

The next day, Wonyoung followed Y/n to his office. She waited outside, watching as he chatted with a female coworker—a petite woman with a kind smile. Wonyoung’s nails dug into her palms as jealousy consumed her.

When the woman walked to a nearby café for lunch, Wonyoung followed her. She cornered her in the alley behind the café, her expression cold and menacing.

“You need to stay away from him,” Wonyoung said, her voice low and threatening.

The woman looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n,” Wonyoung clarified, stepping closer. “He’s mine. Don’t think for a second that you can take him from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman stammered, backing away.

Wonyoung grabbed her wrist, her grip like iron. “Listen carefully,” she hissed. “If I see you near him again, you’ll regret it.”

The woman nodded quickly, her face pale with fear. Wonyoung released her and walked away, a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over her.

Y/n started noticing strange things in the following weeks. His coworkers seemed distant, avoiding him during breaks. One day, he found a bouquet of roses on his doorstep with a note that read, “You’re mine, forever.”

He knew who it was from.

Wonyoung’s obsession was spiraling out of control, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He confronted her one evening, finding her waiting outside his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, her voice sweet but unsteady.

“This has to stop, Wonyoung. You’re scaring me.”

Her smile faltered. “I’m scaring you? Y/n, all I’ve done is love you. All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

“This isn’t love,” he said firmly. “This is obsession.”

Her eyes darkened, and she stepped closer. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. You don’t understand how much I need you, Y/n. I can’t live without you.”

“You need help,” he said, his voice softening. “Please, Wonyoung. Get help.”

Her expression twisted into one of rage and heartbreak. “I don’t need help. I need you. And I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Y/n felt a chill run down his spine. He realized then just how far she was willing to go.

The obsession had consumed Wonyoung entirely. Every waking moment revolved around Y/n—what he was doing, where he was going, who he was with. She knew everything: the times he left for work, the café he liked to visit, the park where he occasionally went to clear his mind. Her network of eyes seemed endless. Every interaction, every smile he shared with someone else, ignited a storm of jealousy and fury within her.

But she couldn’t just watch anymore. She needed him. Completely.

It was a cold, quiet night when Wonyoung finally decided to act. She waited in the alley near Y/n’s apartment, cloaked in darkness. Her heart raced as she gripped the small vial in her hand, the contents a potent sedative she had procured after weeks of planning.

She knew his routine well enough to predict when he’d go to bed. The lights in his apartment flickered off around 11 PM. She waited another hour, ensuring he was deep in sleep before making her move.

Breaking into Y/n’s apartment was easier than she expected. She had studied his habits meticulously, noting how he often forgot to lock his balcony door. The quiet click of the door sliding open sent a chill down her spine, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through her.

She crept inside, her movements silent and calculated. His living room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Her gaze fell on a framed photo of him on the counter, and she couldn’t resist picking it up, her fingers trembling as she traced his face.

“You’ll understand soon,” she whispered to herself, setting the photo down.

Her footsteps were featherlight as she made her way to his bedroom. The door was ajar, and she pushed it open slowly, revealing Y/n’s sleeping form. He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Wonyoung’s breath hitched. He was so close, so vulnerable.

She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she pulled out a syringe filled with the sedative. She had practiced this moment in her mind countless times, but the reality of it made her hands shake.

“I’m doing this for us,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She knelt beside the bed, carefully brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Her heart pounded as she pressed the needle against his skin.

The prick of the needle woke Y/n. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was disoriented.

“W-Wonyoung?” he mumbled, his voice groggy.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she cooed, her voice soft and soothing. “Just relax.”

His gaze sharpened as he realized what was happening. “What… what are you doing?” he said, his voice slurred as the sedative began to take effect.

He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. Panic flashed in his eyes as he attempted to push her away.

“Wonyoung, stop,” he slurred, his strength fading.

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t let you leave me. I need you, Y/n. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

He struggled against her, his body weak but his mind racing. “This… isn’t love,” he managed to say, his words barely audible.

“It is,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “It’s the purest love there is. I’m doing this for us. For you.”

Y/n’s vision blurred as the drug fully took hold. His head lolled to the side, and his body went limp. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Wonyoung’s tear-streaked face hovering over him, a mix of desperation and obsession etched into her features.

Wonyoung sat beside him for hours, her hand gently stroking his hair as he lay unconscious. She whispered promises to him, vowing to make him understand, to show him that they were destined to be together.

“You’ll see, Y/n,” she murmured. “You’ll realize that no one can love you the way I do. No one will ever understand you like I do.”

Her tears had dried, replaced by a chilling sense of determination. She had crossed a line, but she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered now—only him.

He was hers. And she would never let him go.

The news broke like wildfire across Korea: “Jang Wonyoung, the Diva of IVE, Has Gone Missing.”

Fans were devastated, flooding social media with hashtags, prayers, and theories. Was it an abduction? Had she run away to escape the pressures of fame? The police were tight-lipped, but the public was frantic. News outlets speculated endlessly, painting a picture of tragedy for one of Korea’s brightest stars.

But the truth was far darker.

Far from the glitz and glamour of Seoul, in a secluded countryside church, Wonyoung stood radiant in her wedding dress. The ornate lace fabric clung to her like a second skin, her beauty almost ethereal. Her lips curled into a serene smile, her dream finally realized.

Beside her stood Y/n, dressed in a formal suit, but his face betrayed no joy. His once-bright eyes were now dull, lifeless. The man who had fought so hard to escape his past had been subdued, stripped of his will. He moved robotically, his body weakened from the drugged haze that Wonyoung kept him in.

The church was empty, save for them. There were no friends, no family, no witnesses. It was exactly how Wonyoung wanted it. This moment wasn’t for the world—it was for them alone.

“You look so handsome, my love,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice tender as she adjusted his tie. “I’ve waited for this moment my entire life.”

Y/n’s lips twitched, but no words came. He had stopped resisting days ago. His silence didn’t bother Wonyoung anymore. She believed that, in time, he would come to accept her love again.

The officiant, a man Wonyoung had hired for discretion, cleared his throat and began the ceremony.

“Do you, Jang Wonyoung, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Wonyoung’s eyes gleamed with joy. “I do.”

“And do you, Y/n, take Jang Wonyoung to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Y/n remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. Wonyoung gently squeezed his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Answer him, my love,” she said sweetly, though her tone carried an edge.

“…I do,” Y/n muttered, his voice barely audible.

The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Wonyoung turned to Y/n, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

“This is our beginning,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his in a possessive kiss.

The couple settled into their new home, a sprawling estate surrounded by high walls and dense forests. It was isolated, designed to keep the outside world away—and Y/n inside.

Wonyoung walked through the grand hallways, her arms wrapped tightly around Y/n’s as if afraid he might slip away. She beamed with contentment, her dream fully realized.

“Isn’t this perfect?” she said, her voice full of glee. “Just you and me, forever.”

Y/n didn’t respond. He walked alongside her, his steps heavy, his gaze empty. The man he once was had been consumed by her relentless obsession.

But to Wonyoung, it didn’t matter.

She had won.

No one else would ever have him. No one else could touch him. Y/n was hers—completely, irrevocably, eternally.

As they sat by the fireplace that night, Wonyoung rested her head on his shoulder, her smile serene.

“This is love,” she said softly, her fingers lacing through his. “And I’ll never let you go again.”

The flames crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world continued to mourn the disappearance of Jang Wonyoung. But inside, she was happier than she had ever been.

The end

[ladybunny44]

✨ Always There, Always You ☁️

Pairing : Tsukishima Kei x Gn!Reader

Genre : ❕️☁️

Word count : ~1500

Summary : After heartbreak with someone who never truly cared, Tsukishima finds solace in the person who had been by his side all along. When you finally gather the courage to confess your feelings, the truth you've both been avoiding comes to light.

TW/CW : Mentions of emotional neglect in a past relationship, light angst with themes of heartbreak and healing. Fluff and mutual confessions.

NOTIFICATION ꩜ ₊ ⊹! : Expect soft moments and heartfelt confessions!

『••✎••』

The cold evening air bit at your cheeks as you walked toward the small café where you had agreed to meet him. The message he sent earlier replayed in your mind:

“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Tsukishima rarely asked for one-on-one time unless it was about something serious. You were used to his blunt demeanor, but this felt different, almost heavy.

You pushed the door open, the warmth of the café and the smell of coffee greeting you. Your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him, sitting in a corner booth. His blond hair caught the light, but it was his expression that struck you. He looked tired, his usual sharp confidence dulled.

“Hey,” you said softly as you slid into the seat across from him.

He glanced up, his honey-brown eyes meeting yours. “Hey.”

The silence stretched between you, the hum of conversation and the clinking of cups filling the space. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“She broke up with me,” he said, his voice flat.

Your heart clenched. She. Your best friend.

“Oh,” you managed, your throat tight. You’d seen it coming, of course. She’d always treated him like he was an afterthought, her sharp words and dismissive behavior grating against your nerves every time you saw them together. But you had never said anything. It wasn’t your place.

“I thought… I thought I could handle it,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. “That if I just waited, she’d start to care. But I was wrong.”

You wanted to comfort him, to tell him he deserved better, but the words caught in your throat. You had always been the silent observer, the one who watched from the sidelines as he gave his heart to someone who didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you said instead, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you then, and something in his expression shifted. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

No, it wasn’t. But you couldn’t shake the guilt that gnawed at you. Guilt for staying quiet. Guilt for wanting him to look at you the way he had looked at her.

For months after their breakup, you and Tsukishima grew closer. He leaned on you in ways he hadn’t before, and you found yourself falling deeper into the feelings you had tried to suppress.

But every time you thought about confessing, you hesitated. What if you were just a rebound? What if he only saw you as a friend?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

『••✎••』

A Few Months Later

The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange as you sat on the grassy hill near the volleyball courts. Tsukishima sat beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his headphones hanging loosely around his neck.

“Thanks for coming out here with me,” he said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, smiling softly. “I like spending time with you.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes searching your face. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you. Then he said, almost hesitantly, “I’m glad I have you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the vulnerability in his tone making your heart ache. You couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“Kei,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “I need to tell you something.”

He tilted his head, his brows furrowing. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Even before… before her. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. And when you were with her, I thought—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind.

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his tone softer now.

“Because you loved her,” you said simply.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I thought I did,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t real. Not like this.”

Your breath hitched. “This?”

“You,” he said, looking at you again. “Us.”

His hand reached out, hesitating for a moment before he took yours in his. His fingers were warm, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I didn’t see it before,” he said, his voice steady. “But I do now. You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. And if you’re willing to give me a chance, I want to try. I want to see what this could be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. You nodded, a small, hopeful smile breaking through. “I’ve always been willing, Kei.”

He smiled back, a rare, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you felt something new blossom between you—something real, something worth holding onto.

[tailoredshirt]

I just saw your c*ckwarming post and I got to tell you that that fic you wrote about Tarlos c*ckwarming?? About the money issues/extra shifts one?? Lives in my head rent free!! There are days when it pops into my head and I go 😍😍 over it!! Any hc on when they first trued it? Did they manage it the first time sucessfully? Or any random hc s just on this topic?

Thank you for this message 😭 The fic is Inseparable, like gravity.

I have two other fics started for this but none for their first time, although I do have some vague ideas about it!

(Btw idk how to tag nsfw text in posts without making tumblr hide the post from everyone? I’ll tag it ‘tarlos warming’ if anyone wants to filter. Pls lmk if there’s a better way to tag text posts.)

My headcanon is that TK has always wanted guys to stay inside of him after sex, but his partners were either too casual for that, or just pulled out and fell asleep, or declined if he asked. As in, he told a boyfriend ‘you can stay inside after’ but maybe the guy wasn’t a cuddler or was too sensitive, or he thought TK just wanted to go again after a few minutes but the guy was too tired.

And then TK started wanting to just have his boyfriend inside of him (or to hold him in his mouth) while they were doing random things, like cuddling or watching tv. But the only guy he asked about it thought he just wanted to fuck, or maybe didn’t understand why TK would want that. Why was TK asking to just have him inside but expecting him to hold still and not orgasm?? What were they waiting for?? laskdj

So I think the times he brought it up with guys didn’t go well, although not necessarily because every guy he dated was an asshole (although I certainly think some didn’t care about him much).

But obviously Carlos is different. Carlos is observant and wants TK to feel good, during sex and before/after, so he pays attention to subtle cues and listens to what TK says. (I think TK would do the same with Carlos but might be more likely to file the information away for later.)

So when TK says ‘you can stay in if you want’ (casually, like he doesn’t mind either way), Carlos understands that TK is expressing a desire for intimacy and he does it, and loves it too.

And when TK eventually asks if they want to just cuddle this way, maybe Carlos teases him at first, like, “oh, so you don’t want an orgasm? that’s new,” or maybe he’s initially confused about what TK wants, but he doesn’t let TK shrug it off. He’s probably like, “god, you’re gonna be the death of me”, with TK expecting him to have iron will, but he loves to give TK something sweet and simple like that, and yes he grows to love it too.

I think TK doesn’t express his cockwarming desires at first when they start dating because the intimacy scares him. I do think TK knew deep down that Carlos is The One, although I think for a long time that feeling manifested as “it is going to shatter me into a thousand pieces when he eventually realizes how damaged I am, and I’ll never get over him.”

So doing something so intimate with someone he knows he’ll never recover from? Scary af. And the first time they do it, it’s so good, and he feels so safe and loved and connected, that he knows he was right. He’ll never recover if Carlos leaves. (God, this is giving me so many breakup era feels. ANYWAY.)

But they’re married now and they do it all the time!!! Maybe not as often now that they’ve got a kid, but they take advantage of the times they do get. 😊

[philosophicalparadox]

Oh 100% Itachi is a parental figure to Sasuke. And you don’t even have to look at Itachi to see it.

Sasuke treats him more like a father sometimes than a brother. Especially given the overall narrative that this series usually establishes about father-son relationships, which to be fair are also reflected a bit in teacher-student dynamics but nowhere near as much.

And that narrative overall is not unique to Naruto but is a rather typical shonen trope thing about having a goal to supersede your father, to best him at his own game, or to otherwise surpass him. (This is a deeply cultural thing in Japan…but I am not going there today).

And while occasionally brothers do stand in for this as ordinary brothers, usually if a sibling, trope wise, has to step into the “you must live to surpass me” role, it’s because they’re narratively a paternal figure.

And like I said, Sasuke’s got all the clues here. He:

Is always looking for Itachi’s attention, be it positive or negative

Obeys his brother without even thinking about doing otherwise even long after the massacre*

Pre massacre, he’s clingy and needy towards Itachi because his father won’t give him the time of day, but also because canonically that’s just how he’s always been. Sometimes babies really do pick their parents. (I’ve been in that situation, sort of, otherwise I’d of said it seemed unrealistic. But no, sometimes a little baby just says “no, YOU get to be my mom!” And there’s really nothing you can do 🤷‍♀️ this happened twice, with my niece AND grand nephew.)

Sasuke is always striving to best his brother, even after the massacre, like when he was training with the Kunai, trying to beat Itachi’s record. Yeah that’s a typical sibling thing, but in the bigger context, like after Itachi’s death when Sasuke is once again trying to out-do him, it feels more shonen-trope-fatherly to me. (Though I will concede that I only really watch Shonen that leans in the general direction of Seinen, which is to say more mature themes that twist the typical Shonen narrative; Naruto both is and isn’t an exception to this. Point is I’m biased lol)

* in reference to two:

There is one poignant scene in which Sasuke doesn’t kill Naruto explicitly because he doesn’t want to do what Itachi tells him to anymore. He then semi reneges on this later and decides that severing the bond is more important— he’s still technically not doing it for the reasons Itachi said, but he has changed his mind all the same.

After Itachi dies, Sasuke decides to go counter to his brother’s wishes, but he’s ultimately still doing what he thinks Itachi wants…sort of.

Now, before I go here, I want to say that this is entirely my interpretation, and you’re free to disagree.

But when Itachi tells Sasuke to hate him more, that he’ll only get stronger if he harbors more hate…a lot of Itachi haters take him literally here, and/or are very confused by it. But in my mind, what Itachi is actually saying as a deeply traumatized 18 year old with limited life experience who has just come back to the place that started it all and probably isn’t in a great place is:

I want you to hate me as much as I hate myself.

And, in particular reference to the “you’re weak if you can’t hate with all your heart” thing (I don’t have the panels on hand) :

I want you to throw away or erase everything you ever cared about just like I did.

As someone who has dealt with severely angry and angsty teens before, this is the message I heard. He wasn’t really goading Sasuke on, insofar as he was looking for someone to commiserate with. And nobody else but Sasuke would genuinely understand. I don’t think it was a planned response, personally— Itachi wasn’t looking for Sasuke, and didn’t appear to know that Naruto was his teammate. So my bets are on that being an impulsive reaction to a stressful situation and Itachi trying really hard to put a wall between them while inadvertently pleading for closeness.

But the point is that Sasuke heard what he meant, not what he said. Because he knows his brother. And Sasuke did exactly that — threw away everything, just like Itachi, severed his bonds, just like Itachi, became a rogue, just like Itachi, etc.

You could very well argue that Sasuke just went and did that if his own accord trying to feel closer to Itachi, which I would completely believe. But either way it’s far more son-father than brother-brother in its dynamic. Don’t get me wrong they absolutely have their bro moments, like when Sasuke is chasing Edo tensei Itachi down and calling him a big fat liar essentially, and being a complete child while Itachi basically rolls his eyes at the Drama 🤣 it’s both funny and sad.

But overall there is certainly a sense of paternalism in their relationship. But it’s not solely defined by Itachi, which makes me wonder how anyone ever missed it.

Ever since @shinoposting made a post about Itachi being a more parental figure to Sasuke a couple of months ago, I've seen several angry responses to it, with the sentiment that "Itachi fans want to make Itachi look good and their parents look bad."

Listen.

A five-year-end boy is left alone on the night of the kyuubi attack with his toddler brother.

He doesn't even seem disconcerted, but instead promises "I'll always protect you, no matter what."

Itachi is the one who sits with him, despite his busy schedule, despite grieving Shisui, and despite being burdened with what's more than he could handle, he took time to check on Sasuke's report card.

Itachi was also ready to abandon his first Anbu mission for Sasuke's sake. It was after this their father even recalls he had to go to the Academy.

Itachi "ignored" Sasuke. And, like, what do people even expect from someone who's been this much burdened that isolating himself is the only thing he can do to protect Sasuke and his innocence?

Yet, Itachi doesn't know exactly how not to be distant. That's a sign of how much he was suffering at this point. He was "bad" after the massacre, but before that, he was kind and sweet, who cared about nothing but Sasuke's wellbeing.

[anonymous-user84]

I like to treat my tags as a personal little spot to write streams of uninhibited thoughts

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[veilkeeper]

why do i only ever wanna write fanfiction for small dead fandoms/pairings

not me looking at the <100 fics for my fave rarepair for an old as fuck video game and thinking "maybe its time to start that longfic"

not me looking at the <100 fics for all of boyfriend dungeon and thinking "idk man i have 37k worth of interconnected drabbles what if i-"

as it is everything ive posted on ao3 is like…. no one on earth is looking at this. i always write fic for fandoms like, at least 5 years after it had aaaaaany eyes on it. why do i do this.

[xwiredearbuds2014x]

If they wanted to they would!!

[ms-demeanor]

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.

[ourceliumnetwork]

listen. I know my family is bad at communication and acknowledgement of receipt of Thing but when the one thing that consistently happens semi-annually is that I get fussed at for not confirming I received something, it irks me a smidge.

Like if I'm expected to always confirm "Hey I got your [communication/gift]" then why aren't they doing it back? Especially considering the communication in this instance has really actually very important information they will want to know if they want to stay in contact with me.

Like????

Even if I'd just gotten a "K" in response, like. at least it would have let me know they got the damn thing. I sent this email TWO WEEKS AGO and only one person responded - and it was practically immediate too. Like... i know folks are busy, i know shit's going on. I get it. But it would help me feel so much less like I'm suddenly a pariah in the family out of nowhere if like one of the people I'd sent this to had just responded in some way shape or form.

I'd have answered a phone call - i wouldn't have liked it, but i'd have done it. A letter in the mail to my current address even. a message in a bottle probably wouldn't get to me because i'm pretty far from the beaches of the great lakes, and also they're even farther, but like. something right?

my sister at least confirmed she got it and just forgot to respond. i imagine that's what happened with everyone else because we have the same mental illnesses and look. i do it too. but also? also?? i was hounded to respond quickly to things, i was told off every time i wasn't responding within a half hour of any communication. I was asked instantly the next time they saw me if I'd gotten it, even if i hadn't had a chance to see the thing yet.

So forgive me, family, if I'm a little peeved off that all y'all are allowed to "forget to respond" for two whole fucking weeks and then a few extra days (because it's been 2 weeks, 3 days exactly) when i can't let something sit in the mailbox for 2 days because i couldn't get to my mailbox easily while living on my own without getting a phone call or text or email that there should be something waiting in there for me.

*enraged screeching*

[malusokay]

Little things that improved my life 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Accepting my sleep schedule. I'm a night owl; I focus at night, I'm calm at night, I'm motivated at night. For a long time, I tried to fight this since everyone always preaches getting up early, but since I started accepting my natural sleep schedule, I've been feeling a lot better and have become way more productive.

"drink more water". TEA. Tea is the secret here. I will be honest, I hate drinking water; it doesn't matter if I have a cute water bottle or a cute glass, I still hate it. TEA.

Replying quickly. I used to be one of those people who get a text message and think, "Oh, I'll reply to that later", and then just forget about it entirely. Now, I text back as soon as I see the message. This has not only improved my texting anxiety (which I cause on my own by now replying and then feeling bad) but also deepened my connection to my friends. <3

Keeping my circle small and being okay with that. Over the past months, I've had this sudden urge to expand my social circle and get to know more and more people, especially after I moved in August. However, this quickly ended in what I like to call my "social burnout". I was tired, annoyed, and overwhelmed. It took a few weeks for it to settle, but I've come to the conclusion that I would much rather have a smaller circle of people who I trust and love deeply than a huge group of friends, and that's totally okay.

Wearing what I like. Even though I live in a big city, I'd still say that my style can sometimes be a bit more extravagant than what most people wear, another point is that I'm very uncomfortable with pants so I only wear skirts, which is also considered a bit odd where I live. But over the past years, I've come to accept that and have become so sure of myself and found such comfort in my style that I now just wear whatever I like, and it makes every day a little bit nicer.

Reading and writing for pleasure. Reading books outside of my studies and spending time researching topics that simply interest me is such a great way to calm your mind. Same for writing, I always like to say that to write is to think; putting your thoughts on paper in cohesive and well-crafted sentences that you can then reread and think over again is such a liberating thing to do.

Reaching out more. fuck the whole "double texting" and "no contact" thing. If you want to speak to someone because they mean something to you, then just do it. Unless they specifically asked for space, you shouldn't feel bad about wanting to be in touch with them. Many even really appreciate it when you show that you truly care. Let's stop the nonchalant act, and instead, let's face deep emotions and true vulnerability. <3

As always, please feel free to share your own little insights and things that helped you improve comments! <3

my insta: @ malusokay

love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[cheriecoke]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[euniexenoblade]

since we're talking about call outs lately, i've been called out many times, most of which are made from lies and sometimes by altering screenshots, but the most effective call out i ever got was like, in early 2015 there was a tumblr user everyone knew was a terf, but she would say "actually i support trans women" this was before crypto terfs were as talked about so the language wasn't really there to say "hey this person is a crypto terf." but yeah some people put posts of this woman on my dash and i made a random post on my blog "why do yall reblog her shes a terf" and of course she searches her own name daily, found my post, and replied to it that me calling her a terf was racist. that was it. no other interaction. but she went on all night talking about me being racist and just making things up as she went "oh i bet she says the n word all the time irl" kind of shit that had, like no basis? But her follower base took it 100% and i literally had thousands of anons telling me to kill myself, trying to goad me into being racist (didnt work), and the most concerning thing was i got hundreds of anons being like "what was the point of doing hrt if you still look like that, you should kill yourself." It was like, violent and overwhelming. and on top of it I'd get random young teenager trans people who followed her and bought into her bioessentialism showing up in my messages being like "you give trans people a bad name" "you're why transphobia exists" etc etc it was fucking crazy.

but i lost like, no followers because everyone around me understood, this woman was a terf. this all set up the real one though.

later in the year a teenage "communist" trans girl made some snarky comment about me being racist on a post of mine blowing up. i ignored her cuz like, who cares it's just some random teenager. but i guess people were looking for a reason to hate me cuz that blew up, lots of people just took that at face value no need to investigate. when someone finally did send the girl an ask being like "hey how is she racist" she replied "I dont remember but I know she is" and even more people just took this as 100%. the thing is, i do remember her being one of those "you make trans people look bad" terf following young trans people, it's not that she didn't remember, it's that she didnt want to admit she followed a terf and she believed a terf just saying shit. I lost like 3/4s of my followers, i had a lot of people i thought were my friends just stop talking to me, and going forward every time i got a call out there would usually be a line of like "also she's racist, everyone already knows this" all cuz this girl needed to make a snarky comment cuz she just loves terfs.

the thing about the "i dont remember" bit is it made some weird game of telephone. "I dont remember" became "oh she's racist, i think she says the n word" which became "she called black bloggers the n word" like people just made shit up about me and connected it to this call out. and when id be like this isnt true id be met with a "this is just known, youre a known racist" and it's like, to this day i will still find people be like "hey good on you for growing as a person and not doing that any more" and its like I NEVER DID IT TO BEGIN WITH