Think of your life as a blank canvas for a moment. See all what you want to accomplish as the paint to apply to your canvas.
I came up with a short well not so short quote for you guys to meditate on a bit.
“ Your life is a blank canvas. Your achievements,downfalls, big and small moments are your paint. Your paintbrushes are your life decisions.”
We are all born with a blank canvas awaiting for us to paint it the way we want to shape our lives. Sometimes we let people take and control our paintbrushes in our lives which can lead to mercurial changes. When things are terrible we get so caught up in the descructive, self defeating mindset even long after they leave us we ruin our canvas but little do we know that with a little cleaner the paint can be removed and re-painted into something beautiful.
Our lives are meant to be lived to fullest and greatest of our capacity. We must not let other people especially those who are mere spectators to the art work that is our lives dictate our pintbrushes and paint our canvas in their liking. So take back your brush wash it out get some rubbing alcohol clean up that canvas of yours and start shaping and designing your life, even if your canvas is damaged or broken it doesnt matter all that matters is your finished product, which is your greatest masterpiece you can create.
Think of your life as a blank canvas for a moment. See all what you want to accomplish as the paint to apply to your canvas.
I came up with a short well not so short quote for you guys to meditate on a bit.
“ Your life is a blank canvas. Your achievements,downfalls, big and small moments are your paint. Your paintbrushes are your life decisions.”
We are all born with a blank canvas awaiting for us to paint it the way we want to shape our lives. Sometimes we let people take and control our paintbrushes in our lives which can lead to mercurial changes. When things are terrible we get so caught up in the descructive, self defeating mindset even long after they leave us we ruin our canvas but little do we know that with a little cleaner the paint can be removed and re-painted into something beautiful.
Our lives are meant to be lived to fullest and greatest of our capacity. We must not let other people especially those who are mere spectators to the art work that is our lives dictate our pintbrushes and paint our canvas in their liking. So take back your brush wash it out get some rubbing alcohol clean up that canvas of yours and start shaping and designing your life, even if your canvas is damaged or broken it doesnt matter all that matters is your finished product, which is your greatest masterpiece you can create.
This was in my drafts since February lol... this has more parts im emptying my drafts out tonight.
Imma based it in the 2010s cause why not as well. I just wrote this off the top of my head so i hope it flows well.
The bass-heavy intro to "Get Low" by Lil Jon shook the walls of the packed club, the energy so electric it seemed to buzz through the air. It was the kind of song that made people lose their inhibitions, the kind that had the dance floor packed shoulder to shoulder with bodies moving in sync to the beat.
The VIP section sat above it all, a vantage point reserved for the untouchable. Suguru Geto lounged on the black leather couch, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his dark eyes scanning the crowd below. His black silk shirt caught the light with every movement, the gold chain around his neck gleaming like it had been made just for him.
Beside him, Satoru was decked out in an open white button-up over a wife-beater, paired with light jeans and an iced-out watch. His own chain glinted when he leaned forward, peering down at the dance floor with interest.
“Man, you’ve been quiet all night,” Satoru said, swirling the drink in his hand. “Didn’t think birthdays were supposed to be this boring.”
“It’s not boring,” Suguru muttered, his tone low.
“Uh-huh.” Satoru followed his gaze, his grin widening when he saw what—or who—had caught Suguru’s attention.
The beat dropped, and the energy of the club seemed to rise with it. You were in the center of the chaos, tearing up the dance floor like you owned it. Your body moved with confidence and rhythm, your hips swaying to the beat, the curves of your figure commanding every eye in the room.
You weren’t holding back, twerking and shaking ass with your friends hyping you up around you. The lights flashed across your dark skin, highlighting the shimmer of your halter top and the low-rise jeans that clung to your hips. Every motion was deliberate, a testament to how comfortable you were in your own skin.
Satoru let out a low whistle. “Damn. She’s bad. Wait that's YN?”
Suguru didn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward slightly. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, couldn’t stop the memories that flooded his mind—your laughter, your touch, the way you’d always danced like no one else existed.
But now you were out there like you didn’t even know he was watching.
Nanami, sitting to Suguru’s left, passed the hookah mouthpiece to Sukuna, who was sprawled out on the couch. His dark red shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show the top of a tattoo peeking out from his chest, the gold chain around his neck catching the low light. The two women on his lap giggled as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, clearly more entertained by themselves than anything else.
“Geto’s in a trance,” Sukuna drawled, his sharp eyes cutting to Suguru before flicking to you. “That her?”
Suguru ignored him, but Satoru answered anyway. “Oh, it’s her.”
Toji, sitting on the far end of the couch with a cigarette perched between his lips, smirked. His black tank top and leather pants gave him a rugged edge, his chain subtle but still expensive. “Shouldn’t have let her go if you’re gonna keep staring at her like that.”
Suguru’s fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. “Shut up.”
The others chuckled, but Satoru wasn’t done. “Come on, bro, it’s your birthday. Go down there, remind her why you were worth it.”
Suguru’s lips pressed into a thin line. He’d already done enough damage. The last thing he wanted was to drag you back into the mess he’d made of himself.
Down on the floor, you were too busy living in the moment to notice the heavy gaze fixed on you. The alcohol in your system mixed with the infectious beat of the music, making you feel weightless, untouchable.
Your friends hyped you up, cheering as you dropped low to the floor, only to pop back up and sway your hips to the side. The crowd around you fed off your energy, but you were in your own world.
Until you weren’t.
You felt it before you saw it—a burning sensation on the back of your neck that pulled your attention upward. Your gaze swept the VIP section, and there he was.
Suguru.
Your movements faltered for just a second, your stomach twisting at the intensity of his stare. He looked as good as ever, his dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, the black silk of his shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. And that damn chain.
You turned away quickly, laughing with your friends to cover up the sudden flutter of nerves. You weren’t going to let him ruin your night.
Suguru saw the moment you spotted him, the way your eyes widened before you looked away. It was like a knife to the chest, a reminder of what he’d thrown away.
“She’s not looking back,” Toji said, his tone mocking as he tapped the ash off his cigarette.
“Maybe she’s over you,” Sukuna added with a smirk.
“Or maybe she’s just tired of his bullshit,” Nanami offered, exhaling another stream of smoke.
Suguru said nothing, but his grip on his glass tightened until the ice clinked against the sides.
“It was only ever you…”
The thought lingered, unspoken, as he leaned back against the couch. He could still feel your presence even from a distance, could still hear the echo of your laughter over the pounding music.
It was his birthday, but it didn’t feel like a celebration.
The energy in the club shifted when the DJ dropped "Bring Em Out" by T.I., the beat heavy with bass and the crowd erupting in unison. The lights flickered, flashing over the sea of bodies, and the dance floor felt alive, vibrating with every step taken.
Suguru sat in the VIP section, the black silk of his shirt resting perfectly against his skin. His gold chain gleamed as he leaned back in his seat, sipping his drink as he tried to keep his gaze from following the movement on the floor. His mind was elsewhere, but the bass was impossible to ignore. He couldn't help himself.
And then there was you.
In the center of it all, with your friends crowding around you, you were in your element. You owned the floor, your body moving effortlessly to the beat, every motion in sync with the music, every part of you alive. Suguru watched you laugh, caught in the chaos and the energy, and for a second, it was like the world faded out.
Your friends, including the one with the bright red hair, were hyping you up, pouring alcohol down your throat while you threw your head back and laughed. The liquid glided down your throat as you smiled, tossing your hair over your shoulder. You were glowing, carefree, and impossibly beautiful. Suguru's chest tightened in a way he couldn’t explain.
His grip on his glass tightened, his eyes trained on you, watching as you moved with the crowd. Your hips rocked to the beat, your body fluid as you dropped low, the music and the crowd parting for you like you were the sun, the center of their universe. He could feel his pulse quicken, his mind snapping between wanting to stay in his seat and needing to get closer to you.
“Yo, Suguru, you good?” Satoru’s voice cut through the noise, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he followed Suguru’s gaze to the dance floor. “You look like you’re about to go down there.”
Suguru didn't answer. He didn't want to. There was something about watching you—dancing, laughing, alive—that made him hesitate, that made him feel like he was holding onto something that had already slipped from his grasp. But damn, he wanted to be part of it.
Nanami, sitting beside him with a calm expression, passed him the hookah. The thick smoke curled between them as Suguru took a long, steady pull, letting the feeling of the smoke fill his lungs. He exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving the floor below.
Sukuna was sprawled lazily on a couch, two women draped over him like he owned the world. He grinned, sensing Suguru's discomfort. "You’re not really gonna just sit here, are you?"
Suguru ignored him, his thoughts swirling with the image of you smiling as Shanice poured another drink down your throat. Your lips parted as you threw your head back, your laugh cutting through the music, and Suguru felt his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t shake.
His hand moved to the glass in front of him again, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead, he focused on the way your body moved, the way you commanded attention. You were intoxicating—alive in a way that only made his guilt feel sharper.
"You’re not even going down there, huh?" Toji's voice was low and rough beside him. Suguru glanced at him briefly—Toji was lounging in his chair, his cigarette smoldering in one hand, his gaze flicking between the dance floor and Suguru. "Just gonna keep watching from up here?"
Suguru's jaw tightened. He could hear the taunt in Toji's voice, feel it mocking him. The pull to go down there, to feel you close again, was unbearable. But he sat still, eyes locked on you, and didn't move.
The music swelled, the crowd’s energy rising with the beat, and he could feel the heat of your presence even from up here. He almost leaned forward, but then you smiled again—bright, carefree—and he found himself frozen.
Your laugh. Your movements. Your freedom. It was everything he wanted but couldn’t reach. It was everything he had lost.
Suguru sat back in his chair, taking another long pull from the hookah, his eyes never leaving you as you laughed and danced, alive in the world that didn’t need him.
The club pulsed with energy, the music vibrating in the air as Suguru sat back in his seat, eyes locked on you. The song "Bring Em Out" by T.I. continued, the crowd erupted, and your body—your damn body—moved like it was born to the rhythm, tearing up the dance floor with your friends. Suguru couldn’t look away, no matter how hard he tried.
You were the center of attention, your hips swaying with every beat, your laughter ringing out like a melody. His chest tightened. It had been months since he'd seen you like this—free, unapologetically you—and it hit him in ways he didn’t know how to handle. He didn’t know how to want you without the weight of regret crashing into him.
But still, there you were. Your friends were hyping you up, laughing, pouring drinks down your throat. And as you threw your head back to laugh, Suguru felt it—the pull. The sharp need to be close to you, to touch you. But his hesitation rooted him to the spot, fingers curling around his glass, his heart pounding against his ribs.
Then, Sukuna stood up.
Suguru’s eyes snapped to him as Sukuna pushed through the velvet ropes and walked toward the dance floor with a sense of purpose that made Suguru’s stomach tighten. He knew that look. It was the same look he’d worn when he’d claimed territory, when he knew what he wanted and didn’t hesitate to take it.
Satoru raised an eyebrow, following Suguru's gaze to the crowd, then back to Sukuna, his grin widening. "Sukuna’s making a move," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and something darker.
Suguru didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His focus was fixed on Sukuna as he navigated through the sea of bodies, his steps slow but deliberate. The beat of the song changed, "Baby Boy" by Sean Paul and Beyoncé replacing the hard bass of the previous track. The sultry, island rhythm filled the air, but Suguru was too lost in what was happening to even feel it.
He watched as Sukuna approached you from behind, his eyes flicking to Suguru’s for a split second—something cold, calculating, passing between them. And then, his hand landed on your waist.
Suguru’s breath hitched.
You froze for a moment, but it wasn’t a bad kind of freeze. It was the kind of freeze that said you recognized the touch, that you knew exactly who it was. You turned slightly, catching sight of Sukuna, and your lips curled into a knowing smirk as you leaned back into him, your body pressing against his in a way that made Suguru’s blood run hot.
Sukuna’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. He whispered something in your ear—Suguru couldn’t hear it, but he could see the way your lips parted, the way your body responded to him. That damn smirk of yours, the one that always made him feel like he was missing something, spread across your face as your laugh pierced the air once more.
Suguru felt like he was suffocating. He had half a mind to get up, to storm down there and drag you away from him, but his body stayed frozen in place. He couldn’t move.
Your friends were still around, but it didn’t matter. Sukuna was front and center now, his hand on your hip, his lips brushing against the side of your neck as he pulled you closer. Suguru's eyes narrowed. He could feel the tension building in his chest, could feel the jealousy tearing at him from the inside out.
You didn’t look at him once. Not once. Not even when Sukuna’s fingers trailed lower, his touch possessive and deliberate. You laughed again, but this time, it wasn’t just a laugh. It was a laugh that told Suguru everything—everything he was too late to realize. You were fine without him. You were fine with Sukuna.
Suguru’s grip tightened around his drink, the glass trembling slightly in his hand as he stared at the two of you. He could feel his heart pounding, louder now, drowning out the music. His mind raced, memories of your time together crashing through him—of how he’d pushed you away, how he’d failed you, how now, it felt like you were slipping through his fingers like sand.
"Go on, man," Toji said, his voice low and full of amusement. "You gonna let Sukuna take the lead?"
Suguru didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His entire focus was on the scene unfolding before him. Sukuna’s fingers were now resting just above the curve of your ass, the intimate, possessive gesture making Suguru’s jaw tighten. The worst part? You weren’t pulling away. You weren’t even trying to hide the way you leaned into him.
And in that moment, Suguru realized something.
You had moved on. You were never coming back.
Sukuna’s eyes flicked up to Suguru, locking onto him like he knew exactly what was happening inside Suguru’s mind. He didn’t have to say anything—his smirk said it all. Suguru swallowed, but the weight in his chest only grew heavier.
And there you were, in the arms of someone else, laughing like you never even missed him.
Suguru was done.
He had tried to tell himself it was nothing—just another night at the club with the usual crowd. But the heat of the night, the loud bass of Baby Boy by Beyoncé and Sean Paul, the flashing lights, the way you moved with Sukuna—it was too much. His chest tightened with every beat of the song, and no matter how hard he tried, his eyes couldn’t leave you.
Suguru sat back in the VIP section, trying to sip on his drink and keep cool. But every time his gaze flicked to the dance floor, it was you—shaking and twerking, laughing freely, living in the rhythm of the music. The club was electric, but his focus was on one thing: the sight of you in Sukuna’s arms.
Sukuna, the bastard, had always known how to push Suguru’s buttons. And tonight, it was no different. He had slid his hand over your waist, pulling you close as you danced, letting the crowd around you disappear.
Suguru’s jaw tightened. It was a game to Sukuna, always was, but tonight… it felt different.
“Yo, Suguru.”
Gojo’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Suguru turned to see his friend’s wide grin. “Don’t forget to smile.” Gojo patted Suguru’s back, clearly oblivious to the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.
Suguru didn’t smile. His eyes flicked back to you. Then to Sukuna. The bastard was smirking, his hand on your hip like he owned it. Suguru’s grip on his drink tightened until the glass cracked in his hand.
He couldn’t sit here anymore.
With a deep breath, Suguru stood up, his gaze never leaving you. "Let’s go," he muttered. Nanami rolled his eyes, already knowing what this meant, but he didn’t protest. Toji grabbed a couple of bottles from the section, ready to follow the storm.
The group made their way to the dance floor, the music’s energy vibrating through Suguru’s bones. The flashing lights painted the scene with wild colors, but his mind was locked on you.
Sukuna had made his move, but Suguru had been around enough to know the game. It was all about control now.
As Suguru stepped closer to the crowd, he saw you again—your back arched, your hips moving in time with the beat, your smile lighting up the club. And Sukuna, still by your side, moving with you as if he were the only one in your world.
Suguru felt the pull of his anger, the sting of jealousy. But he held it together. He had to.
Shanice, one of your friends, caught sight of him as he neared and decided this was her moment. With a grin, she approached Suguru, hands already reaching for him. “Happy birthday, Suguru,” she purred, leaning in close. Her hands trailed over his black silk shirt, fingers dancing across his chest, and Suguru barely reacted. His mind was still on you.
She tugged at the gold chain around his neck, her lips close to his ear. “You look good tonight,” she whispered.
Suguru’s eyes were on you. Your eyes met his for a split second, a brief flash of recognition, but before he could even register what you were thinking, you looked away, laughing, as Sukuna pulled you closer.
Shanice didn’t take the hint. She stepped in, wrapping herself around Suguru, her hand sliding to his waist as she flashed a sultry smile. Suguru’s hand casually draped over her waist, offering her the smile he knew she expected. "Thanks," he said smoothly.
But all he could think about was you.
And how you were laughing in Sukuna’s ear, the way your body was pressed against his.
It was like nothing had changed. You were still here, still as radiant as ever, but everything felt wrong. He was supposed to be the one making you laugh. He was supposed to be the one who got to hold you like that.
Toji, ever the one for blunt humor, leaned in as they walked closer to the dance floor. “I really hope Sukuna’s antics don’t make Geto air this bitch out,” he muttered to Nanami. Suguru didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words didn’t matter when his entire focus was on you.
Then the beat shifted, and the pulse of Baby Boy continued the song locking into place like the soundtrack of Suguru’s thoughts. The slow grind of the bass, the smooth drawl of Beyoncé’s voice, made everything feel so... intimate. The air was thick with tension as Suguru finally made his way further down to the dance floor, his eyes never leaving you.
And there you were—still in Sukuna’s arms, laughing, smiling, and dancing as though nothing else existed. The sight made Suguru burn, but he didn’t stop.
Not yet.
As he moved closer, he watched Sukuna’s hand slide lower on your waist, and the subtle way you leaned into him—it wasn’t lost on Suguru. It wasn’t lost on anyone. But it was Sukuna’s move, and Suguru had his own to make.
Gojo, ever the troublemaker, casually handed Suguru a lollipop, and without missing a beat, Suguru unwrapped it, popping it in his mouth. He leaned down to Shanice, who was still draped on him, and in his smoothest tone, he asked, “Tell me, Shan, is Y/N still single or no?”
His eyes flicked to the dance floor, but he could feel the weight of your gaze on him. His pulse quickened as his eyes found you again, dancing with Sukuna, your hips swaying in time to the beat. The way your laughter echoed in the air made him feel a rush of things he couldn’t quite explain.
You were still there—alive, bright, and untouchable.
But before Suguru could focus on you fully, he felt Sukuna’s eyes on him. The bastard smirked, his hand on your waist, making it clear that he knew exactly what Suguru was thinking. It was all a game, and Sukuna knew exactly how to play it.
Suguru’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond to Sukuna’s silent challenge. Instead, he pressed his lips to the side of Shanice’s ear, still maintaining his casual façade. But internally, everything was starting to fray. His emotions were like threads being pulled too tight, and all he wanted was to make sure you weren’t slipping away.
Shanice noticed the shift in his attention and raised a brow. "She’s still free, Geto. You know she doesn’t stick around for long, though."
Suguru took a slow pull from the lollipop, his eyes never leaving you, now grinding against Sukuna. The way you arched your back, letting the beat consume you, only seemed to fuel his fire. The thought of you being with someone else… it made his chest ache.
His eyes cut back to Sukuna, who met his gaze and grinned—like a predator sizing up his prey.
The smirk on Sukuna’s face widened, and his eyes flicked between Suguru and you. It was like an unspoken challenge had been thrown down.
Suguru turned back to Shanice, his voice dropping low. “If you see Y/N again… tell her I said to cut that shit out”
Shanice grinned. “You got it.”
And with that, Suguru stood a little straighter, feeling the weight of the night press down on him. He had no choice but to wait and see if you would come to him, or if Sukuna would keep you all to himself.
The heavy bass of Baby Boy began to fade out, only for the unmistakable beat of Lollipop by Lil Wayne to take its place. The whole club seemed to pulse with the rhythm, the energy shifting as people gravitated toward the groove.
Suguru’s eyes flicked back to the dance floor, where Sukuna was speaking to you now. He couldn’t make out the words, but the casual, almost flirtatious way Sukuna leaned in made Suguru’s jaw tighten.
You listened, your smile lighting up the dimly lit room. Then, without missing a beat, you turned and walked toward Suguru.
His heart skipped as you approached, the click of your heels against the floor growing louder in his ears. As you neared, Suguru’s eyes locked onto yours, feeling the intensity of everything unsaid between you.
Shanice was still by his side, her hand lingering on his chest, but Suguru couldn’t even focus on her. His attention was all on you as you moved with effortless grace, every step calculated, pulling him deeper into a web of desire he couldn’t escape.
You stopped in front of him, eyes glinting with mischief. Suguru’s breath hitched, and he could feel the heat radiating from you. The lollipop still rested between his lips, a symbol of casual indulgence he didn’t quite realize he was holding on to for too long.
You didn’t say a word as your eyes flicked to Shanice, then back to Suguru. A teasing smile curved your lips as you reached up, gently taking the lollipop out of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, you popped it into your own, the sweet, cherry flavor mixing with the tension in the air.
Suguru’s pulse spiked, his lips now empty, but his mind raced. You were bold—confident in a way that made him ache. The lollipop in your mouth was a silent challenge. It was as if you were claiming something of his without saying it out loud.
The heat of your gaze didn’t leave his face. He could feel the electric tension between you, but before he could say anything, Sukuna’s voice rang out from behind you.
"You always did have a way of making things interesting, Geto."
Suguru's eyes flicked over to Sukuna, who had positioned himself just behind you, watching the entire exchange with a smug grin. He was enjoying this. Enjoying watching Suguru squirm.
But Suguru couldn’t focus on Sukuna anymore. His attention was fully on you, the woman who had once meant everything to him. He could feel the pull between you, a magnetic force neither of you could deny.
he air between you and Suguru crackled with tension, and his eyes didn’t leave yours as you leaned in, the lollipop now resting between your lips. The moment was almost too much to bear, and he found himself lost in your gaze. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words seemed stuck.
Before he could speak, you pulled the lollipop from your mouth and placed it gently into his hand, your fingers brushing against his skin. There was a pause, a beat of silence, before you spoke, your voice low and filled with that undeniable edge of confidence.
“Thanks for keeping Shanice company. I’ll take over now.”
Shanice, who had been hanging off Suguru’s arm not long ago, looked between the two of you, raising an eyebrow. She could see the shift in the air and smirked, giving you a nod.
“Thank God. I told Sukuna this plan was messy anyway. Thanks, girl.”
She leaned over to give Suguru a playful squeeze on the shoulder, then turned on her heel and made her way over toward Toji, the two of them instantly falling into a flirtatious conversation.
Suguru didn’t even look at Shanice as she left. His attention was fully on you now, his chest tight with the weight of everything unsaid. Sukuna’s smirk was still lingering in the background, but it was clear that you and Suguru were in a world of your own now.
You stood in front of him, your presence pulling him in even closer. The club around you faded into the background as the intensity between you two became palpable. Suguru was trying to keep his cool, but he could feel his walls starting to crack, piece by piece.
As Shanice disappeared into the crowd, Suguru stood there, still holding the lollipop you’d left behind. The weight of the moment was almost suffocating. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you smiled, leaning in with that spark in your eyes, the same one that used to drive him wild.
"Happy birthday, pretty boy," you said, your voice laced with a playful sweetness that sent a jolt through him.
Suguru let out a quiet sigh, the kind of sound you’d only hear when he was trying to control the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside him. He popped the lollipop back in his mouth, savoring the candy as though it could somehow steady his racing heart. His gaze never left yours, the way you moved, the way you held his attention so effortlessly.
It was too much—too damn much.
Suguru could feel the pull between you both, that tension that had never really faded, despite everything that had happened.
But as he stood there, with the club pulsing around him and the chaos of the night continuing, one thing was clear: You hadn’t left his mind. Not for a second.
And now, with your presence in front of him again, he wasn’t sure what to do next.
Sukuna, ever the troublemaker, walked over with that smug grin of his. His eyes gleamed in the dim light of the club, a silent challenge in his gaze as he leaned in slightly toward Suguru.
"I knew I could get you down here," Sukuna said, his voice low, the weight of his words sinking into Suguru’s chest. He was provoking him, testing him, like he always did.
Suguru’s eyes shot to him, a flash of something dark and dangerous flickering behind his cool facade. "You’re lucky I didn’t air this whole damn club out," he muttered, voice tight, but there was a hint of something else beneath the annoyance—an unspoken recognition of Sukuna’s persistence.
Sukuna just laughed, loud and easy, leaning back on his heels as if this was all some kind of game to him. "You know you love the chaos, Geto."
Before Suguru could respond, Toji, who had been standing a few feet away, finally spoke up. His deep voice carried through the lounge with an amused tone.
"This Suguru is fucking crazy," Toji said, shaking his head with a half-smirk, as if he was watching a drama unfold that he couldn’t look away from.
Suguru’s attention snapped between Sukuna and Toji, the weight of their words only adding fuel to the fire smoldering inside him. The night, the tension, the familiar faces, all of it was too much. But even with the chaos surrounding him, his gaze drifted back to you, standing there with that same power, the one that had always commanded his full attention.
Valentine's day aint it when you're missing someone you're not supposed to
This was a Valentine's day draft that never got posted...so imma drop some angst....If you want a part two lemme know
Silent Confessions
It started over something small. It always did.
Ony was sitting at the edge of the bed, jaw tight, fingers laced together like he was physically holding himself back from saying something he’d regret. YN was by the dresser, scrolling through her phone like his silence didn’t weigh the entire damn room down.
She always did that. Ignored the tension. Acted like nothing was wrong.
"You hearin' me?" Ony’s voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness.
A beat. She didn’t look up. "Mmhmm."
That was it. That’s all he got.
Ony exhaled hard, shaking his head. "See, that right there. That shit right there is why I’m done, YN."
She finally glanced up, a brow raising like he was overreacting. "Done?" She echoed, voice cool. "You sure? Or you just talking?"
He damn near laughed. "Yeah, 'cause I’m the one who be playing games, right?"
YN didn’t flinch, just went right back to her phone, scrolling slow, like he wasn’t standing there unraveling. Like his frustration wasn’t even worth looking at.
"I don’t play games," she murmured.
Oh, she got him fucked up.
Ony shot up from the bed, stepping in front of her so she had no choice but to acknowledge him. "You don’t play games?" His voice dropped lower, laced with something sharp. "So what you call this?"
Her head tilted, eyes meeting his without a flicker of emotion. "You mad ‘cause I don’t act how you want me to act?" She slid her phone into her back pocket, folding her arms. "That’s a you problem, baby. Not mine."
Ony sucked his teeth, chest rising and falling. "Damn, you really don’t give a fuck, huh?"
"Never said that."
"But you don’t say shit."
Another shrug. "Maybe I just don’t see the point."
That was it. That was the straw.
"You never see the point," Ony muttered, stepping back, shaking his head. "You never say how you feel. You just stand there, act like I’m the crazy one for giving a damn, and then when I finally get fed up, it’s just oh well?"
Silence.
For a second—just a second—he swore something flickered in her expression. Something almost real. But just as fast, it was gone. Replaced with that same unreadable, detached look that had been driving him insane for months.
"You done?" she asked, voice smooth, steady.
That hurt more than she’d ever admit.
He scoffed, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle. "Yeah. I’m done."
He turned, grabbed his keys, and walked out.
And YN?
She just let him.
Didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t chase after him.
Like he was just another moment, another thing that came and went.
And that was the part that really fucked him up.
The door slammed behind me with a finality that I should’ve been used to by now. But it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like the relief I thought it would.
I gripped my keys tight in my hand, walking through the parking lot, the cold air biting at my skin as I made my way to my Hellcat.
The blacked-out paint gleamed under the dim streetlights, and the roar of the engine felt like the only thing that could drown out the noise in my head. I slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, leaning back for a second, just breathing.
I reached into the center console, pulling out the joint I’d been saving for moments like this. The flame sparked to life as I lit it, taking in a deep hit before rolling the window down and exhaling the smoke into the cold night air.
It was the kind of night that felt like a movie. You know, the kind where the character just drives, the music playing in the background, lost in thought. But the problem was, I didn’t even have a soundtrack. It was just the buzz in my head.
And YN. Always her.
I leaned my head against the window, staring at the streetlights blurring by. I should’ve been angry. I should’ve been relieved. But I wasn’t. I was just... empty.
I needed to talk. I needed to get the thoughts out of my head before they ate me alive. So I pulled out my phone, going through my contacts until I landed on Eren’s name.
“Yo.”
His voice came through, the usual cool tone, but I could hear the edge in it. He always knew when something was off.
"What’s up, bro?"
"I need to talk. Can you just... listen for a minute?"
There was a pause, and I could feel his curiosity rising. “You know I got you.”
I leaned back in the seat again, taking another drag before speaking. "It’s her, man. YN. I can’t do this anymore, but I can’t let go either."
Eren let out a low sigh. “You need to make up your damn mind. She’s not gonna change, Ony. You know that, right?"
I stayed quiet, letting the words hang in the air between us. It wasn’t that simple. Not for me.
“What happened this time?” Eren asked.
I could hear the impatience in his voice, but I was too deep in my own thoughts to care. “She played me, E. Again. She always does. I’m giving her everything—time, energy, patience—and she won’t even say how she feels. It’s like I’m just some random dude to her.”
Eren was silent for a moment, letting me vent. I appreciated that about him. He wasn’t one of those people who tried to fix shit immediately. He just let me talk, let me get it out.
Finally, he spoke. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, bro. You deserve someone who gives a fuck about you. Someone who won’t leave you out in the cold like this.”
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to get defensive. He was right, of course. I knew that. But damn if it didn’t hurt to admit it.
Before I could respond, Eren’s voice cut through the air again. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s make this a group call.”
I blinked, not sure if I was hearing him right. “A group call? With who?”
"The bros. They’ll want to hear this shit too."
I leaned forward, hitting the call button as the phone started ringing. A few seconds later, the call was live, and the familiar voices of my boys filled my ears.
"Yo, what’s good, man?" Connie’s voice came through first, laced with a slight Spanish accent. His words always had that effortless smoothness, but I could tell from his tone that he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.
"Ony, bro, you good?" That was Jean—laid-back, but always looking out. He was the calm one in the group, the type to sit back and observe before throwing in his two cents.
I took another drag from my joint, trying to calm myself. “Yeah, I’m good. Just... tryna figure some shit out.”
"Tell us what’s going on, bro," Eren added. “We got your back, always.”
And just like that, the floodgates opened. The words came tumbling out, faster than I could even process them. I told them everything—about the fight with YN, about how she never showed any emotion, about how I was always the one putting in the effort while she just sat back like she couldn’t be bothered.
The boys stayed quiet for a second.
"Damn, that sounds rough," Connie finally spoke up. “But honestly, bro, you deserve someone who actually gives a shit. If she can’t meet you halfway, then fuck it. Let her go.”
Jean exhaled through his teeth, that thoughtful pause before he spoke. “You already know what it is, bro. You keep thinking she gon’ change, but she won’t. If she wanted to, she would’ve already.”
Eren? He was the one who really hit me with the truth. “You can’t keep holding onto something that’s not there anymore, Ony. She’s gone, bro. Let it go.”
I stayed silent, feeling the weight of their words sink in. It was one of those moments where you knew they were right, but your heart wasn’t ready to admit it.
I took another hit from the joint, letting the smoke fill my lungs as I tried to push the knot in my chest down.
“Alright,” I muttered. “I hear y’all. But it’s not easy.”
"No shit," Connie said with a laugh. “But we’re here for you. Always.”
And for the first time that night, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t alone in this.
Connie’s voice cut in again, low and sharp. “Hold on.” There was a brief shuffle before he switched to Spanish, speaking to his girl in the background. I could hear her voice faintly, excited about some impromptu night out. They were already talking plans—laughing, deciding on drinks. He came back on the phone after a minute. “Aight, so apparently, YN and my girl are going out tonight. Just like that. Impromptu, no warning.”
That hit harder than I expected. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.
Before I could reply, I heard the sound of the phone shifting, and then Eren’s voice cut in. “Hold up, bro. Same thing happened here. YN texted the group saying she needed a night away from you. So now they’re all going out.” He paused for a beat, like he was gauging how I’d take it. “She’s just... doing her own thing tonight, man.”
Connie came back on, his voice steady, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal. “Yeah, so... looks like it’s just one of those nights, man. All the girls are out. You know how it goes.”
My grip on the steering wheel tightened. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow. What the hell was she doing? How could she just bounce like that, no explanation, no warning?
There was a long silence before Jean finally spoke up, his voice laid-back like usual, but I could tell there was a little extra concern in it now. “It’s probably for the best, bro. You know how she is, right? She’s gotta figure her shit out. Just don’t get caught up in it. You’ve been putting in work, don’t let her bullshit mess with your head.”
I wanted to argue, to snap back. But the truth? He was right. I had been putting in work. And she... she hadn’t said shit. Not one thing.
Eren’s voice was more somber when he spoke again. “Yo, Ony, listen, man, she’s doing her own thing. You can’t control that. You’ve done everything you could. It’s her turn to figure it out.”
My fingers dug into the phone, the grip on my steering wheel almost painful now. I ran a hand through my hair, head starting to pound.
“Man, I don’t know what to do with this shit, Eren.” My voice cracked slightly, and I hated it. “She just... left. Like I’m nothing.”
Connie’s voice softened, more serious than I’d heard it in a while. “Yo, Ony... it’s just how it is. Sometimes they need space, sometimes they don’t know what they want. You gotta let her do her thing for now. Trust me, I get it.” He paused for a moment, then added, “We’ve all been there.”
Jean chimed in, his voice quiet, but steady. “You can’t make someone care, bro. She’s got her own demons to face, and that’s not on you.”
I felt like I was suffocating. The world outside the car seemed so fucking distant, like I couldn’t even find a way to reach out to anything.
I was spiraling, and I hated myself for it.
“Yeah, I know...” I muttered, voice hollow, the frustration still bubbling inside me. “I just don’t know how to let go.”
There was a brief silence, and then Eren spoke again. His voice was firm now, the calm in it making it cut through the noise in my head. “Ony, get your head right, man. It’s not worth it to crash out like this. You’re not doing anything but hurting yourself. Chill.”
Jean added, his voice calming as usual, “We got your back, bro. You’re not alone in this.”
I took a long, shaky breath, leaning back in my seat, my hands loosening their grip. I could feel the anger start to subside a little, replaced with a dull ache that made my chest heavy.
“Yeah... you’re right.” My voice was quieter now. “I just... I didn’t expect her to just leave like that.”
Connie, ever the steady one, spoke up next. “You can’t expect anything from people, man. It is what it is. You can’t change how she moves. All you can do is keep moving yourself.”
The words hit hard, but in a good way. I needed to hear it, even if it felt like shit to admit.
I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The tightness in my chest was still there, but it wasn’t as suffocating now. I wasn’t okay, but I was getting there.
“I appreciate y’all, man,” I muttered, feeling like I was crawling out of some deep hole. “I’ll... I’ll figure it out.”
Eren’s voice came through again, the usual smirk in his tone. “You better. Ain’t no time to dwell. We’re not here for that.”
I half-laughed, the sound bitter in my throat. “Yeah. I know.”
But then, something snapped. I slammed my hand against the wheel, the anger flooding back like a storm I couldn’t control.
“You know what’s fucked? She’s probably inside right now, getting ready, laughing it up with the girls, and I’m out here like a fucking fool, like a goddamn cunt.” My voice rose, sharp and vicious, and I didn’t care. I was done holding it in.
The guys went silent for a beat, clearly not used to hearing me lose it like this. I could practically feel their hesitation.
Jean was the first to speak, his voice soft but concerned. “Yo, chill, bro.”
Eren’s tone was firmer, the kind of calm that only came when he knew someone was about to crash. “Nah, Ony. Don’t do that to yourself.”
Connie, in his usual steady way, jumped in. “Man, just breathe. It’s gonna fuck with you if you let it. You’ve got to get your head right.”
But it was too late. I couldn’t shut it off. I couldn’t ignore the gut punch I felt from her choosing that night—of all nights—to just leave.
I took a shaky breath, gripping the wheel tighter. “Yeah, I’m... I’m gonna get it together. But damn, that shit hurts.”
Eren sighed, exasperated but understanding. “We know, bro. We know.”
Connie’s voice softened again, a little more serious. “It’ll get better. Just don’t keep feeding into it.”
I leaned back in my seat, feeling the weight of their words sinking in. I wasn’t okay. But maybe... maybe I would be.
Ony slammed his phone down on the passenger seat, disconnecting the call abruptly. He couldn’t handle hearing another word right now. He needed space to calm down before he went back inside, before he let everything spill out in ways he’d regret. His hands gripped the steering wheel tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead, but it wasn’t the road that had him spiraling. It was the thought of her.
He glanced at his phone when it buzzed, seeing Eren’s name flash on the screen. But he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not now. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. Not even his closest friends. He swiped the notification away and sank back in the seat, taking a deep breath, trying to will himself to settle.
That’s when he saw it.
Connie’s Jeep pulled up into the driveway with a low rumble. He recognized it immediately—bright lights flashing in the night as it came to a stop. The engine cut, and the car doors opened. First, Connie’s girl stepped out, all smiles, looking casual but put-together, like she hadn’t just been in the middle of a group text about their plans.
But then...
YN stepped out of the house, and it hit him like a punch to the chest. She was dressed to the fucking nines, all glossed-up, curves tucked into a black dress that hugged her like it was made for her body. She was wearing heels that made her legs go on for miles, and her hair was done just right. She looked every bit the goddess she was, but in that moment, all it did was make him feel like shit. She looked untouchable, like she had it all together, and he was out here—broken and fucked up over her.
He tried to ignore it. Tried to stay in the car, tried to convince himself he wasn’t going to go over there and make a scene. But the anger, the confusion, the fucking pain of it all… it boiled over before he could even think.
He swung the door open, his heart pounding as his shoes slapped against the pavement. He made his way toward her, every step a mix of frustration and disbelief. He had to say something. He couldn’t just let this night slip by without confronting it.
But before he could even get a word out, she stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Save it, bro." Her voice was cool, calm, like this was just another night. Like none of this—none of the shit they’d been through—mattered.
She didn’t even look at him, just pulled her clutch up to her side and adjusted the strap over her shoulder, as if it wasn’t a fucking gut punch to him that she was standing here so... unfazed. So detached. He wasn’t even sure if she saw him as someone she’d been with or just another name in her past.
Her words hit him like ice water, freezing everything in him for a second. He stood there, staring at her, feeling the knot in his chest tighten all over again.
The way she said it—like she’d already made up her mind, like she wasn’t even going to let him explain, or even vent... it stung.
But damn it, he couldn’t let it go. He wasn’t going to stand there and let her dismiss him like that, not when it felt like she’d been doing it for months.
"I’m not doing this with you tonight, YN," he said, voice low but filled with everything he’d been holding in. The hurt, the anger, the disbelief. "You wanna go out like everything’s fine, like you’re not fucking with my head? That’s your call, but don’t act like I’m the crazy one when you’re out here acting like nothing happened. Like we didn’t just... fall apart."
Her eyes met his for the first time, but they were empty. Detached, like she was a million miles away from him. She didn’t even flinch at his words.
"You wanna have a conversation about this?" she said, her voice still too calm for his liking. "You don’t get to do that, Ony. Not after everything. Not after you just..." She trailed off, shaking her head like she was over it.
He was getting fed up. He didn’t care how much composure she had right now.
"After I what?" His voice was sharper, the frustration bubbling over. "After I fucking care about you? After I try? After I let you do whatever the hell you wanted while I’m over here getting strung along, waiting for a sign, for you to just—"
"Enough," she cut him off, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You want closure? You want some kind of fucking explanation? Save it. I’m not the one for you. We both know that."
Her words landed like daggers, cold and heavy, but she didn’t even seem to care how it cut him. "I’m done trying to fix something that’s already broken."
He stood there, frozen for a moment, trying to process what she’d just said. She had no idea how hard it was for him to hear that. No idea how long he’d been hanging on to something he thought might still be there, that maybe—just maybe—there was hope for them.
But she was already gone. The door to her car opened, and she slid into the passenger seat like it was just another night.
And just like that... he was left standing there, in the cold night air, feeling more alone than ever.
Ony stood there, still reeling from her words. The knot in his chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, he let it spill out.
"WTF do you mean closure? Aren’t we in a whole fucking relationship, YN?" His voice cracked a little, but he didn’t care. His frustration was getting the best of him, and the anger bubbling up was starting to burn through everything.
She didn’t flinch at his outburst, though. Not one bit. She just adjusted the strap of her clutch, her eyes focused on the ground like she was already done with this conversation before it even started.
"Of course we are," she said, her voice casual, almost dismissive. "I’m just going out. I don’t wanna argue right now, Ony."
She said it like it was no big deal. Like him standing here, breaking himself open, meant nothing.
The way she said it—calm, steady, almost uninterested—was too much. He wasn’t asking for some dramatic emotional breakdown, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting her to act like she was just going out with her friends on a regular night.
"You’re just—" He stopped himself, sucking in a sharp breath. "You can’t be serious right now, right? You’re really gonna act like we’re good? Like this is fine?"
But she wasn’t listening. She was already halfway in the car, looking straight ahead, avoiding him like the conversation didn’t even matter.
"Let me go, Ony," she said, voice even, though he could hear the hint of something in it. "I’ll be back later."
But as she slid into the car, Ony felt his chest tighten even more. Something inside him snapped, and he was done.
He was done with the games, done with pretending like everything would be okay.
"You really out here treating me like a fucking fool, huh?" he muttered, more to himself than to her, but the words felt like acid on his tongue. "You’re out here living your life, and I’m still stuck on the bullshit you pull."
He knew he should leave it, should just walk away before it got worse. But everything in him screamed to fight for something he wasn’t sure was even there anymore.
But the door shut, and just like that, she was gone.
And he was still left out in the cold, trying to figure out what the hell was real anymore.
Ony walked back inside, his mind racing but his body drained. He tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, but the ache in his chest made it damn near impossible. As he passed the hallway, his eyes caught an old framed picture—him and YN, smiling at a barbecue they had gone to three years ago. Back when everything felt easy. When love was still something they both believed in.
He paused for a split second, staring at the photo, but the pain from everything that had just happened made him look away. The memories were too sharp, too painful.
Instead of confronting it, he headed straight for the kitchen and grabbed a blunt, needing something to calm the chaos inside. He rolled it with shaking hands, trying to focus on something simple, anything to drown out the feeling of being left behind.
The phone buzzed again.
It was Eren.
Ony sighed, exhausted, running a hand through his hair as he answered. "What, E?" His voice was rough, like he hadn't slept in days, even though it had only been a few hours. He wasn’t ready for another conversation, but he had no choice.
Eren's voice was steady on the other end, but Ony could hear the concern there. "Yo, you good? What happened?"
Ony inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling slowly, letting the feeling of the weed calm his nerves, even if just for a second. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice thick. "I’m fine... just... just tired, man."
Eren didn’t buy it for a second. "You sure? 'Cause it don’t sound like it."
Ony’s laugh came out bitter and empty. "Nah, man. It’s... it’s fucked up. She left. I don’t even know what the hell happened. She just... walked out like nothing, like we were never even—" He paused, choking on the words.
"Like we were never even what?" Eren pressed gently. "You gotta let it out, bro."
Ony took another drag, his mind swirling. "I don’t know, E. She said she needed space. And I—I told her if she left, we were done, and she just... walked right into that fucking car like it didn’t mean shit." He gritted his teeth, the frustration boiling back up. "She don't care, man."
There was silence on the other end, the only sound being Eren’s soft breathing. "Yo," Eren said after a moment, "listen to me. You gotta stop doing this to yourself. I get it, you’re hurt, but you can’t let her walk all over you like this. Not like this."
Ony ran a hand down his face, the weight of the words sinking in but still not fully reaching him. "I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore, bro."
"One step at a time," Eren replied quietly. "One step at a time. Just... let yourself breathe."
Ony stared at the ceiling, not saying anything, just listening to Eren’s voice grounding him. It was hard, though. The silence between them was heavy, filled with everything he wasn’t saying, everything he was too scared to admit.
"I’m here, bro," Eren added softly. "Just don’t do anything stupid."
"Yeah, I got it," Ony muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he did.
He hung up after a few more quiet words, feeling emptier than before. It was getting harder to breathe, but he couldn’t let himself break down just yet.
He took one last drag from the blunt and stared out the window, wondering when, if ever, things would feel right again.
Ony sighed, setting his phone down as he scrolled through Uber Eats, debating between some wings or just a burger and fries. His stomach was tight from everything that had just gone down, but smoking on an empty stomach never sat right with him. He opted for some wings, extra spicy—something to burn away the frustration sitting heavy on his chest.
He leaned back on the couch, rolling another blunt with practiced ease, letting the familiar motions settle his nerves. PartyNextDoor played low in the background, the slow, moody bass matching his energy. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from his TV and the faint glow of the streetlights outside.
Just as he brought the blunt to his lips, a loud banging echoed through his apartment.
Ony frowned, his mood shifting instantly. His first thought? Some bullshit.
He stood up, rolling his shoulders, already ready to square up if needed. He hadn’t even been checking his phone—who the hell was at his door this late?
But when he yanked it open, he was met with the familiar faces of his boys—Eren, Jean, and Connie.
Eren leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head like he already knew Ony was on some dumb shit. Jean had his hands in his hoodie pockets, always the calm one, but his eyes said enough—he was checking Ony’s energy. Connie, standing slightly off to the side, gave him a once-over before sighing.
"Damn, bro," Connie said, stepping inside like he already lived there. "You look like you been through it."
Ony exhaled through his nose, stepping back to let them in. "I’m good."
Eren side-eyed him as he kicked the door shut behind him. "Nah. You not."
Jean sat on the couch, glancing at the half-rolled blunt on the table. "We already knew you was gon’ be in here sulking and rolling up, so we figured we’d come through before you got too deep in your head."
Ony smirked slightly but said nothing, just sat back down and picked up his lighter. He sparked the blunt, inhaled, and let the smoke swirl around him before he finally spoke. "I ain’t sulking."
Eren scoffed. "You was just listening to PartyNextDoor. That’s literally sulking music."
Connie laughed, shaking his head. "And you got Uber Eats open? bro, you in the first stage of heartbreak. Next thing you know, you gon’ be texting her some weak ass ‘u up?’ at two in the morning."
Ony rolled his eyes. "Man, shut the fuck up."
Jean leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. "Look, bro. We get it. YN got you twisted right now. You hurting. But you can’t let her have you like this."
Eren nodded, snatching the blunt from Ony’s hand and taking a hit himself. "Facts. You either gon’ let this shit turn you into a simp, or you gon’ boss up. Which one?"
Ony rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of everything settle in his chest again. He wanted to act like he didn’t care, that he could shake this off, but they all knew him too well. He was down bad.
After a long silence, he muttered, "Man, I don’t even know no more."
Connie clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good thing we here then, huh?"
Jean smirked. "Yeah, ‘cause we not letting you sit here drowning in your feelings all night."
Eren exhaled smoke, leaning back. "So what we doing, O? You tryna sit here and cry to PND, or you tryna get your mind right?"
Ony took another hit, held it in, then slowly exhaled. He was still pissed, still hurt, but at least his boys were here. And maybe—just maybe—that was enough for tonight.
Ony exhaled, tapping ash into the tray as he leaned back. "Man, she probably tweaking out or sum," he muttered, voice low, eyes locked on the blunt between his fingers. "She gon’ be back."
Eren side-eyed him, shaking his head. "You sure about that?"
Ony’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer.
Jean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Bro, you can’t keep thinking she gon’ come back just ‘cause she always did before. What if this time different?"
Ony sucked his teeth, his grip tightening around the blunt. "Man, YN ain’t going nowhere. She just acting out."
Connie huffed a laugh, rubbing his chin. "You hope she just acting out." He shrugged. "But from what my girl saying, YN already moving like she outside for real tonight."
That shit hit Ony in the chest, but he masked it with an unimpressed chuckle. "You tryna get under my skin or sum?"
"Nah, bro," Connie said, tone serious now. "I’m tryna make sure you don’t do no dumb shit thinking she gon’ come running back the second she step outside."
Ony didn’t respond immediately. He just sat there, rolling the blunt between his fingers, his head starting to buzz from the smoke.
Eren tilted his head, watching him. "So what you gon’ do if she don’t come back?"
Ony scoffed. "Nigga, she coming back."
The room went quiet for a second.
Jean exhaled through his nose. "Aight," he said simply, but his tone carried weight. Like he’d seen this story play out before. Like he already knew Ony was about to learn the hard way.
Ony kissed his teeth, shaking his head as he took another slow drag of his joint. The smoke curled from his lips, but it didn’t ease that tight feeling in his chest.
"Niggas acting like they know my girl better than me," he muttered, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.
Eren leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. "Ain't about knowing her better, bro. It’s about calling shit how it is."
Jean nodded, rubbing his chin. "You really think she just out there getting ‘closure’?"
Ony’s nostrils flared. He stayed quiet, just pulled again from the blunt, holding the smoke in longer this time.
Connie watched him closely, then sighed, shaking his head. "Look, bro, I ain't tryna gaslight you or nothing," he said, voice a little softer. "But you sitting here talking about ‘she gon’ be back’ while she outside doing her." He shrugged. "Just make sure you ain't sitting here waiting for something that ain’t coming."
Ony scoffed, exhaling hard. "Man, whatever."
But deep down, that shit sat heavy.
Because Connie wasn’t lying.
Connie chuckled as he checked his phone, but the second he really looked at the screen, his smile dropped.
"Ayo…" he muttered, then shook his head, laughing dryly as he turned the phone toward Ony.
Ony took one glance and damn near snatched the phone out of Connie’s hand. The blunt between his fingers burned forgotten as his eyes locked on the screen.
There YN was, front and center on Solene’s IG story, ass moving, hands in her hair, her smile wide and free. And right behind her? Some nigga posted up, hands all over her waist, leaning in like he belonged there.
The other girls were cheering her on, laughing and hyping her up, but even they looked a little surprised.
And just to make shit worse, YN was singing along, clear as day—
"It’s 7PM, Friday, it’s 95 degrees, I ain’t got no nigga, and no nigga ain’t got me—"
Ony’s grip tightened around the phone. His jaw locked. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.
Eren let out a low whistle. "Damn," he muttered. "She bold for that one."
Jean exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah, bro…" He hesitated. "You good?"
Ony stayed silent for a second. His whole body was stiff, his leg bouncing as he stared at the screen. Then, suddenly, he threw Connie’s phone onto the couch and stood up.
"Nah," he muttered, voice tight. "Nah, fuck that."
Eren sat up straight. "Bro, chill."
"Chill?" Ony’s voice was sharp, his eyes dark. "You see that shit?" He pointed at the phone like the video was still playing. "I’m sitting here looking stupid while she out there on that type of time?"
Connie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean… I did say she was outside tonight."
Ony sucked his teeth, pacing now. "Man, I shoulda known. She love playing games." He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. "You know what’s fucked? She probably inside getting ready, smiling at herself in the mirror, knowing I’m out here like a fucking fool." He let out a bitter laugh. "Like a cunt."
Jean stood up now too, hands up in a calming gesture. "Bro, listen—"
"Nah, fuck listening," Ony snapped. "This some bullshit." His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling. "And I ain’t about to sit here and pretend like it ain’t."
Eren and Connie exchanged a look.
"Look, we get it," Eren finally said. "Shit’s foul. But what you not about to do is crash out over a girl that wants you to lose it."
Ony exhaled sharply, his head dropping forward, hands on his hips. His breathing was heavy, frustration pouring off of him.
"You need to cool the fuck down," Jean said, voice steady. "‘Cause right now? You looking real close to doing something you gon’ regret."
Connie nodded. "And that is exactly what she want, bro. For you to lose it."
Ony closed his eyes, inhaling deep. He knew they were right. He knew it. But knowing didn’t make it any less painful.
Didn’t make it any less humiliating.
Ony barely looked up when he heard the front door open. He was slouched on the couch, head tilted back, red-eyed and heavy-lidded from the blunt he’d just put out. The room was thick with the smell of weed and takeout, empty food containers stacked on the table next to the PS5 controllers.
Jean had already knocked out in the armchair, hoodie pulled over his face. Eren and Connie were still half-playing a match, but even they looked up when YN came stumbling in.
Lit was an understatement.
She was gone. Makeup slightly smudged, her once-perfect outfit now slightly rumpled. She kicked off her heels carelessly, mumbling something to herself as she nearly tripped over them.
Ony just sat there, watching.
She stopped when she noticed all of them looking, blinking slow like it took her a second to process. Then she grinned, lazy and unfazed.
"Y’all still up?" she slurred, voice thick with liquor and whatever else she’d been on.
Ony licked his lips, exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. We up."
She hummed, stretching her arms over her head before stumbling toward the hallway. "Mmm. I’ma shower."
And just like that, she kept it pushing. Not a single word about where she’d been. Not a single glance at Ony longer than necessary.
Like he wasn’t even there.
Eren let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Man…"
Ony ignored him.
Connie, however, watched Ony closely, then sighed. "You good, bro?"
Ony let his head fall back against the couch, eyes closed. He inhaled deeply, rolling his jaw.
Then, finally, he muttered, "Yeah. I’m straight."
But everybody in that room knew damn well that was a lie.
Ony said fuck this shit and raised his voice.
"Yo, YN," he called again, voice sharper this time. "Come here."
The room went dead silent. Even Jean, who had been deep in sleep, stirred at the sudden shift in Ony’s tone.
Eren and Connie exchanged glances but didn’t say a word. They knew better.
YN, halfway down the hallway, paused. Her back was still turned, but Ony saw the slight way her shoulders tensed.
She turned slowly, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable. "What?"
Ony sat up, elbows resting on his knees, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to keep himself from snapping. "Don’t ‘what’ me. Come here."
For a moment, it looked like she was about to argue, like she was going to roll her eyes and brush him off like always. But something in his face must’ve told her not to.
With an exasperated sigh, she dragged herself back into the living room, arms crossed. "What you want, Ony?"
Ony’s jaw flexed. He looked her up and down—at the smeared lip gloss, the scent of liquor clinging to her skin, the slight wobble in her stance.
Then he let out a humorless chuckle. "You deadass right now?"
YN’s brows furrowed. "What?"
"You know what." Ony leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "You really out here moving like that? Like I ain’t mean shit to you?"
She sucked her teeth, tilting her head. "I went out with my girls. That’s a problem now?"
"Nah, goin’ out ain’t the problem," Ony shot back. "It’s how you went out." He gestured toward Connie, who was still staring at his phone. "You was real comfortable on that nigga, huh?"
YN froze for a second—just a second—before she scoffed. "So we stalking my every move now? That what we doin’?"
Connie cleared his throat and put his phone down. "I didn’t even wanna show him, ma. But that shit was wild."
YN turned to Connie, eyes narrowing. "Stay outta this, Con."
"Nah, don’t tell him to stay outta shit," Ony interrupted, standing up. "You was singing, YN. 'I ain't got no nigga, and no nigga ain't got me’—that’s what we on now?"
She sucked her teeth. "It was a song, Ony. Relax."
Ony let out a bitter laugh. "A song," he repeated. "Man, you really don’t give a fuck, huh?"
"I do give a fuck!" she snapped, voice slightly slurred. "I just—I just needed a night, Ony! A night to breathe, to not—"
"Not what?" Ony stepped closer, jaw clenched. "Not deal with me? You tryna act like I been suffocating you or some shit?"
YN didn’t answer.
Her silence? That shit spoke volumes.
Ony’s nostrils flared as he exhaled through his nose. He looked at her—really looked at her. At the way she bit her lip, like she didn’t know what to say. At the way she refused to meet his eyes.
Then he shook his head. "You know what?" His voice was quieter now, but still sharp. "I ain’t even gon’ do this with you while you drunk."
He stepped back, running a hand down his face. "Go sleep that shit off, YN."
For once, she didn’t argue.
She just turned on her heel and walked away.
And Ony?
Ony sat back down, grabbed his joint, and took the longest drag of his life.
Because if he didn’t, he might just say some shit he couldn’t take back.
Just wanted to write a choso fic... This aint got another part cause na..
Ps: I forgot this finished fic was in my drafts so here ya go.
The music pulsed through the lounge like a heartbeat, steady and heavy, the low hum of voices and clinking glasses adding to the atmosphere. You looked up as the bartender slid a cocktail your way, chilled and clear. A smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth as you sipped, eyeing the room. Tonight, you had no agenda other than to enjoy yourself—but then you felt it, a gaze burning into you from across the room.
You didn’t have to look around to know who it was. You’d already noticed him the second you walked in—tall, dark hair pulled back, intense eyes that could cut right through you. He had that unbothered vibe, leaned back against the bar, calm like he owned the place. And now? He was looking right at you, giving you a once-over that lingered a little too long to be innocent.
You raised an eyebrow, letting him know you weren’t just anybody. He noticed, smirking back like he was ready for whatever you had to offer. With one last sip, you decided to close the distance and sauntered over, heels clicking against the floor as you stopped a few inches from him. Close enough for him to feel your presence, but not close enough for him to think he’d won anything yet.
“So you just gon’ stare all night, or you got somethin’ to say?” you asked, letting your voice hold a little tease, a little challenge.
He chuckled low, leaning in slightly. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, voice smooth and deep, every word like velvet. “I was just waiting to see if you’d come over on your own.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” you said, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Big man, too good to make the first move, huh?”
“Not too good,” he said, eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stand up. “Just don’t gotta chase when I know you want it just as bad.”
His confidence was practically dripping, but there was something else—something about the way he looked at you, like he was studying every inch of you and committing it to memory. He took a step closer, eyes trailing from your face down to your lips, then back up.
“So what’s your name?” you asked, finally.
He leaned in, voice a low murmur. “Choso. And you?”
You told him your name, watching his expression shift as he repeated it, as if savoring each syllable. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.
“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a spark as he held your gaze. He wasn’t playing, and something about his vibe told you he wasn’t just another smooth-talker. He wasn’t about to ask for your number or play the usual games—he looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
He took another step forward, leaning down just slightly until you could feel his breath on your neck. “You know,” he murmured, voice just for you, “I don’t like wasting time. So if you’re feelin’ this too, maybe we can take it somewhere else.”
A shiver went down your spine, but you kept your cool, raising an eyebrow. “Boy, you really think you just gon’ walk me outta here like that?”
Choso tilted his head, amused. “Depends,” he said, voice steady and low. “You wanna see what I got in mind?”
Something in his eyes made you pause. You didn’t break eye contact, your heart picking up speed, but your voice was steady as you replied. “Lead the way.”
Choso led you through the dimly lit hallways of the lounge and out into the cool night air. He kept his hand light on the small of your back as you walked, but the heat radiated off him. The moment felt thick, like you were both waiting for the other to say something, but words didn’t feel necessary. He exuded this quiet confidence—like he knew exactly where this night was headed and was content to let it play out in his own time. You could tell he wasn’t one for unnecessary small talk.
Minutes later, you were stepping into his place: sleek, masculine, all dark tones and low lighting, with a floor-to-ceiling window showing off the city skyline in all its late-night glory. It was impressive, almost too perfect—but that only made him more intriguing. He walked a few steps ahead, then turned, looking you up and down slowly, like he was weighing every inch of you.
“So this how you do things?” you asked, crossing your arms, keeping your tone easy but your stance ready. “All quiet and mysterious, huh?”
He let out a quiet laugh, closing the distance between you with a few deliberate steps. “You got a problem with that?” His voice was low, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent chills down your spine.
You shrugged, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ll let you know if I do.”
He tilted his head, a faint smirk pulling at his lips, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, trailing a hand slowly down your arm, his touch light but deliberate. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, but every word was weighted, like he was savoring the way you looked under his hands.
You raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to impress me?”
“Nah,” he replied, his eyes holding a dark gleam. “It’s supposed to let you know I don’t play games. When I want something, I make it clear.”
The air between you practically crackled, a heavy silence settling over the room. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity through you. He was testing you, seeing how you’d react, and when you didn’t pull away, he continued, his touch becoming bolder, his grip firm around your waist as he pressed you closer.
“Tell me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice dropping lower, rougher, “how much can you handle?”
You smirked, running a hand along the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there. “Think you can find out?”
That was all the invitation he needed. He backed you up slowly until you felt the wall at your back, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you in his gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, but the look in them was sharp, calculating, like he was mentally cataloging every reaction, every hitched breath, every glance.
He leaned in close, his mouth hovering just a breath away from yours. “You like a challenge?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, each word laced with something dark, almost dangerous.
Your heart pounded, but you kept your tone steady, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. “Why don’t you give me one?”
In response, he smirked, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was possessive, claiming, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about who was in control. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, just enough pressure to send a thrill through you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed you harder against the wall.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath coming in low, steady beats as his thumb traced slow circles against your neck. “You can try to play coy all you want,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, “but I know you’re feelin’ this just as much as I am.”
You gave him a slow smile, your pulse racing. “Guess we’ll see how long that confidence lasts.”
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate through you. “Oh, trust me,” he said, leaning in close, his lips brushing your ear. “I got enough to last all night.”
The next moments were a blur of heat and hands, each touch more intense than the last. Choso’s dominance wasn’t loud or showy; it was a steady, deliberate control, like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you. His grip was firm, his movements unhurried, every action calculated to push you just a little further, to keep you on edge.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. “Told you,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw as he held your gaze. “I don’t do anything halfway.”
You raised an eyebrow, letting out a slow breath. “Neither do I.”
He chuckled, stepping back just slightly, but his gaze never left you, a promise hanging in the air. “Then you better keep up.”
The tension between you and Choso thickened as he pulled you from the wall, guiding you through the dimly lit apartment until you found yourselves in his bedroom. The city lights cast shadows across the room, a faint glow illuminating his sharp features, the intensity in his eyes undeniable. He watched you, hands grazing your arms as he stepped closer, letting his fingers trail slowly, possessively, along the line of your jaw.
“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice low, with a slight rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “I knew it the second I saw you.”
Your breath hitched as his hand slid down, his grip firm around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and powerful, like he was barely holding himself back.
“I could say the same about you,” you replied, your voice steady but soft, feeling the energy between you two grow thicker, more electric.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating low in his chest. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning.”
Without another word, he tilted your chin up, bringing his lips down to yours. The kiss was intense, but slow—controlled, almost like he was savoring the taste of you. He wasn’t rushed or careless; every movement felt purposeful, like he was taking his time, memorizing each reaction, every shiver that coursed through you.
Choso’s hands trailed up your back, his grip firm as he shifted you onto the bed. He hovered above you, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took you in, his eyes dark with a possessive hunger.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper as he pressed kisses along your collarbone, down to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. His teeth grazed your skin, a rough edge that sent a surge of anticipation through you, his hands exploring every inch, testing how far he could push you.
“You talkin’ big game, but I don’t know if you really ‘bout it,” you teased, eyes challenging as you met his gaze. You weren’t going to let him have full control without a fight.
His grin widened, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Is that a challenge?”
You smirked, leaning up to press your lips against his, daring him to show you what he was made of. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and the air between you turned charged, electric. Each touch, each kiss, felt like a promise—a thrill of something dangerous, like he was giving you just a taste of what he was capable of.
Choso pulled back, his fingers brushing down your neck, lingering at the pulse point, feeling your heart race beneath his touch. “Then let me make one thing clear,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing yours, his voice like velvet. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, filling the room with a dark intensity that was intoxicating. You didn’t break eye contact, letting him see the challenge in your gaze, knowing this was only the beginning of something that felt bigger than either of you.
“Prove it.”
And that was all it took. His control slipped just slightly, enough for him to let go, to press you against the bed with a fierceness that left no room for questions. He wasn’t just taking you; he was showing you the lengths he’d go to leave his mark on you, to make sure you’d remember this moment, remember him, long after the night was over.
As his hands roamed, as his touch grew rougher, you felt yourself surrendering to his rhythm, to his pace, each sensation blending into the next, pulling you deeper into his orbit, where nothing else mattered except the two of you.
He picked her up like nothing like she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she let out a soft gasp as his grip dug just slightly into her thighs. He was hot to the touch, shirt off, skin gleaming with a light sheen from the heat they’d been building between them all day.
“You good?” he asked low in her ear, voice a full-bodied promise that vibrated in her bones.
Before she could answer before she could smirk or toss something slick back he dropped her onto the bed. The bounce of the mattress caught her breath in her throat, silk sheets ruffling beneath her body as she landed, wide-eyed, lips parted.
Choso stood at the edge, towering. That look in his eye, full beast mode, full claim, full You gon’ feel every second”
He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, eyes roaming over her body like she was art, war, and worship in one breath.
“Spread,” he said.
You bit her bottom lip. “What if I don’t?”
He tilted his head, smirked, then crawled onto the bed slow panther-like. The mattress dipped beneath him, one hand planted beside her head, the other gliding up the inside of her thigh till it hooked under her knee and pulled her open, lips brushing her jaw.
“Then I take,” he growled, and kissed her deep. One of those tongue-and-teeth kisses that had her back arching into him, her arms winding around his neck, her body remembering how perfectly he fit.
“You want me to behave?” she breathed between kisses, teasing but breathless.
He kissed her harder. “No. I want you to remember.”
Then he dipped down, slowly, kissing every inch of collarbone, chest, belly making her feel each place his mouth landed like a ritual. When he got lower, her hips already rising for him, he paused, looked up with that dark, honey-slick stare.
“Hold still,” he said, voice gritty. “You ran before. Not this time.”
And then he devoured her.
The kind of devouring that made her moan out his name, the full one CHOSO! over and over like a prayer gone rogue. His hands pinned her hips down, his tongue and lips moving with mastery, devotion, and intent to have her unravel under him like silk sliding off flame.
By the time he came back up, lips glistening, beard damp, her chest was heaving.
“You good?” he asked, cocky but breathless himself now.
“I was.”
He didn’t even let her finish, flipped her over gently, hand flat on her back. “Nah, mama. You will be.”
Hours slipped by in a haze of touches, whispers, and promises. By the time the first light of dawn crept through the window, you lay next to him, breathless, tangled in the sheets. He looked over at you, his eyes softening just slightly, a rare vulnerability there that made your heart skip.
“What?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you caught him staring.
Choso shrugged, a lazy smirk crossing his face. “Just makin’ sure you’re still breathing. Thought I might’ve taken you out for good.”
You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you propped yourself up on one elbow. “Boy, please. I’m not that easy.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You think you can handle me?”
You leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back, meeting his gaze with a steady confidence. “I can handle a lot more than you think.”
Choso laughed, the sound low and genuine, like you’d finally managed to catch him off guard. “Guess I’ll have to keep pushing, then.”
You didn’t need to respond; the look in your eyes said enough.
⊹ genre: smut; established relationship!AU, mafia leader!Oikawa, mafia!AU
⊹ word count: 10.1k
⊹ warnings: swearing, mentions of death/murder, blood and kn*ves and g*ns/w*apons, illegal actions such as dr*g trafficking and vi*lence; pet play, ddlg (daddy dom-little girl) dynamics, corruption kink (if you squint), dirty talk and (heavy) degradation, dumbification, mocking and teasing, choking, soft to mean hard dom!Oikawa, bratty crybaby!reader, size kink, squirting, overstimulation, fucking with no prep, impreg kink, (! knife & blood play !, heavy marking: there will be an extra warning right before the c#rving scene begins so you can skip it if you want to!), punishment
⊹ summary: After feeling neglected by your pretty faced, mafia husband, you decide to pay him a little visit at his office. (i hate summaries ok sue me)
“We‘re here, ma‘am”, your driver‘s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts and with a soft shake of your head, you let your eyes roam over the strong features of the male and nod.
These are my absolute favorite fics of Kakashi Hatake/Sakura Haruno pairing, which I definitely will read and re-read every one of them in my free times.
This list will update frequently. :) Feel free to recommend me some KakaSaku fics. ♥
Oneshot or Drabble or Short Story:
Kind of Dating by Silberias. Rated K.
The Path Beside His by Frostings. Rated K.
My Lady Sakura by therealesther. Rated T.
Cherry Blossom Queen by thekatthatbarks. Rated T.
To Grow a Garden by Wolfy Tales. Rated T.
Don’t Break Her Heart by Roxie Zephyr Jocelyn. Rated T.
Old Enough by therealesther. Rated K.
Sabotage by therealesther. Rated K.
Twenty Question by MaidenInTheMoon. Rated K+
Those Three Words by Soushin. Rated K+
Ups and Downs (A series of Kakasaku Drabbles) by Seppuku Doll. Rated M
This Love Thing by Asanisan. Rated T
Snow Blind by Caitiy. Rated K+
The Art of War by leafygirl. Rated T
The Price by Nenagh24. Rated T
Under The Sun by rabid behemoth. Rated T
I Found You Missing by Wolfy Tales. Rated T
Love and Other Verses by NeonAnything (A series). Rated M
The Ronin and the Queen by leafygirl. Rated T
10 Arrows by PockyPhoto. Rated T
Forearms by cszimm. Ratad T
Take My Past And Take My Sins by thekatthatbarks. Rated M
The Hands That Grip Me by thekatthatbarks. Rated K
Discoveries in Oil by Nikki1212. Rated K+
Mission Report AF4927V by eeearnest. Rated T
sun sonnet, summer rain by grecoism. Rated T
to deserve a spring by themajorarcana. Rated M
Chaptered Fics :
A Marriage Inconvenienced by lulu42. Rated T
Soulmates by Moor. Rated M
Lens of Truth by kaname’s harisen. Rated T
i too have known autumn too long by Enbi. Rated M. (Status : On-Going)
Adaline by Nikki1212. Rated T (Status On-Going)
Sakura and Her Scarecrow by thekatthatbarks. Rated K (Status : On-Going)
Everything But The Kitchen Sink by lulu42. Rated M (Status : On-Going)
