#how dare anything in this world try to inconvenience your day

[ohstarsandsticks]

My eyes seem to have an enchantment laid on them recently

Every time I look at you, I don't know how you get more beautiful each time

[hypnos333]

Our Forever

Cha hyunsu x reader

Synopsis: You were hiding your baby boy from the world but it seems like the military already knows hopefully Hyunsu finds you before they do.

Part 1 - Your forever

Taehoon waddle around, eyes pitch black as he was fed grapes from you. As sweet as this little baby was he always gets what he wants. He even named him monster Teddy. You could only imagine what having a girl would be like.

“When will I see you again?” You whisper think instantly to Hyunsu,He sacrificed himself to get a cure leaving you heavily pregnant and alone but a monster helped you through it before it died. And Now you gave birth to Taehoon. Your sweet baby boy.

when you look at Taehoon you see his father. Taehoon nudged you before pointing at his mouth “Ah” he whined making you smile sadly before gently putting a grape in his mouth making him chew slowly.

You were surprised to find fresh grapes from the run down market. You haven’t ate anything making sure Taehoon gets enough protein and food.

You lift up your baby boy to put him to sleep but as soon as you picked him up he was out like a light.

Taehoon is indeed a hybrid with the same abilities as his father but when a human look deep into his eyes a human can turn to a monster. So sometimes he wears blindfolds.

One day Taehoon snuck out making your panic.

“How can a three year old be curious already” You mumbled but then gasp as you saw Sergeant Tak holding Taehoon.

You instantly rushed to him as he gladly gave the baby boy to you.

“A baby during golden hour that’s new one” He said making you tense but you can’t ignore the Sergeant.

“I was pregnant before all of this even happened Sir sorry for the inconvenience” You answered respectfully as you shift Taehoon in a more comfortable position.

“I see, you’re also not apart of the safe place, Would you like-“No thank you” You interrupted him making him tilt his head in confusion.

“What’s his name?” He asked slightly pointing to you baby, you looked at Taehoon his adorably before look back at the solider. “His name is Taehoon it means perfectionist and Compassion” You answered.

“Is his father with you or turned into a monster?”

“What’s with these questions?” You asked politely trying to be a good role model to your son.

“I know about you trying to hide your baby from us but I can assure you he is safe unless he attacks” Sergeant Tak said honestly making you hold Taehoon tighter in your arms.

“I understand” You said before walking back to your home.

As a mother of a hybrid no monster dared to hurt you. They avoided you or helped you scout for food for your son.

Days later you decided to take Taehoon out for some air. So a walk was ideal for the both of you, You packed a bottle of milk, his blindfold and pacifier. As he chew on a chocolate chip cookie that you found in a convenience store.

You held his hand as you both walked under the stars. The cold air blew luckily you gave Taehoon a big jacket otherwise he would be having a cold. But this wasn’t a typical breeze it was like someone was coming.

You held Taehoon close as you closed your eyes. This person must have been in front of you because-“Dada?”

What?

You opened your eyes and saw Hyunsu in front of you and Taehoon. Your baby looked at you for permission before you nodded making him with a little struggle instantly run to his dad.

Hyunsu took him with open arms as he spins him around in joy.

“I missed you so much Tae I promise I’ll never leave you and your mama again” Hyunsu said holding back tears. Both of your boys looked at you both extending their arms so you’ll come to them.

You smiled going in their arms. Now they were a complete family. Even though the world around them was still a disaster they still had each other to hold.

Pt.3

[loserlvrss]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄 y. jeongin ( 양정인 )

synopsis | you really needed a new computer, but at least your boyfriend was there to ease the burden.

pairing : jeongin x fem!reader genre : drabble, fluff, est. relationship warnings : language, bit of angst word count : 0.7k authors note : this wasn't bc i couldn't get my fucking computer to stop downloading everything as pages and cried about it... no...

You shut your computer with the loudest groan you’ve ever let out. Your hands found their way into the roots of your hair as your head collided with your palms. You tugged lightly, trying in some weird attempt to get the pain inside to ease up. 

“What the actual fuck,” you mumbled into thin air, ��if this damn computer doesn’t work again, I’m actually going to fail this assignment.” 

You had the worst—and oldest—version of a laptop you think anyone could ever have. It lagged out, stopped working and wouldn’t let you convert anything into a pdf, much less an editable copy. Of course, besides it sounding like it was going to explode while you played the sims, or acting as a make-shift heating pad when you dared open more than two tabs at a time, it had its charms… Most of them, however, were the stickers it was adorned with over the years. 

You really needed a new one. 

Your eyes welled, but you shut them quickly before any tears started to fall. It was frustrating having to try anything and everything to not inconvenience your professors; always trying to have the piece of hot-shit up to date so you could keep up with the deadlines. But, you weren’t sure how much more of the jumping through hoops you could do before it completely inconvenienced you. 

Why couldn’t they just bring back the paper days? you thought. You could definitely find a pen or pencil somewhere in your house—maybe even a typewriter would work better. 

Everything piling up in your life was getting a little overwhelming. It was mentally and physically taking a toll on you. Your shoulders had become more rounded, and your blue-light glasses were barely working anymore. You kept getting stress related headaches, and you seemed more anxious than normal. 

You felt the warm touch meet the skin of your shoulders, dragging from one side to the other. “Are you okay?” The corresponding voice asked. Your so-very sweet boyfriend, of course. 

You looked at him through the parted hair in your fingers, “No, it’s already past due by four days.” You groaned again, completely letting your head fall onto the closed metal. “this piece of shit, in, like what am I supposed to do now? I’m so stressed and I’m already on the verge of having a non-passing grade. This stu—”

He cut your tangent short, “Hey, baby, let’s take a deep breath.” His other hand took the opposite shoulder, thumbs digging into the knots that had formed over the last half a semester. “It’s all gonna be fine, we’ll figure something out. It’s not the end of the world, I promise.” 

You turned your head to the side, visibly pouting. He moved to the base of your neck, massaging the tension away just a bit more. 

“But Jeongin,” He broke away momentarily to take the bridge of your glasses between his forefinger and thumb, dragging them off and putting them aside. “If this damn computer…” 

He kept at it, letting you rant about your outdated computer. At least it was closed, he thought, you needed a break anyways—late assignments or not. He knew you were tired, not having slept well the last couple days. He was the man sleeping next to you afterall. He also knew that you rarely wanted to stress him out, so you bottled it inside. The depths of the night made it obvious however, tossing and turning and sitting up to stare at the wall. 

Jeongin hmphed, hearing the lightest breaths leave your parted lips. He examined closer, you had fallen asleep under the simplest of touches from him. You must have needed to relax (and lay off the caffeine) bad, he thought. 

He knew you’d also probably wake up in a panic in a couple of minutes, spewing something about your schoolwork. However, he’d just take you to bed and run his hand up and down your back all night if he had to. Whatever to get you to stop overthinking—and putting everyone else first. 

You were a very dedicated person to your studies, but even the smartest person in the world needed a break once and a while. 

And maybe a new computer… 

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back to masterlist !

[vasito-de-leche]

okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way. 

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

[writingattemptsxx]

Demons In Grief

MC is gone, so the demon brothers go through the five stages of grief.

—

Something I posted on my AO3 and wanted to post here, also third day I posted something in a row (forgot is I posted my previous thing early today or yesterday), but this probably won’t as common, this is just to get my blog out there.

—

Tw: Mentions of death

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. Well known stages that humans go through, but even beings as powerful as the Demon Brothers, Avatars of the Seven Deadly Sins, will still experience them. The most potent time they experienced them was after your death, when you were taken from them, especially after you were taken too soon .

Denial

Lucifer buried himself in his work. He could have sworn you came into his office so many times, but when he looked to the door, you were never there. He just looked back down, trying to continue his work, only for the cycle to repeat later.

Mammon’s brain just tended to skip the information you weren’t there, as if it was just waiting for that information to be proven wrong, for you to just appear. He would just continue acting normal until you came back, even if you never did.

Levi shut himself in his room. He burned through double, maybe more, games and animes than he did before. Even while blasting through so many games and shows, there were some he didn’t touch, couldn’t finish, the ones you were playing/watching together or wanted to play/watch together. He was waiting for you to come back to touch those.

Satan’s mind just went blank. It wouldn’t register anything, much less the fact you’re gone. To an outsider, he looked like an empty shell, stuck in the world of his mind, his mind of nothingness.

Asmo sunk himself into his make up. He practiced new techniques and mastered old. He wouldn’t let a single mistake go. Not a single hair would be out of place. When you came back, his amazing beauty would be shown right next to yours.

Beel started to eat everything that entered into the house, except for a few. He was already known for his gluttony, but if he was eating he wouldn’t have to think. He wouldn’t have to think you weren’t there. The only thing he controlled his gluttony enough to skip over was your favorite foods and stuff you were saving to eat later. You would eat that later when you came back.

Belphie only woke up daily to spend time with you, but now you were only there while he was sleeping, so now it’s almost unheard for even Beel to see him up. All he needed was to see you, hug you, cuddle you, and if he had to sleep to do that, then so be it.

Anger

Lucifer felt angry at everything. You were precious to him, so how DARE the world allow ANYTHING to happen to you. He knew you were destined to leave, but it wasn’t supposed to be this soon. His inner self wanted to destroy anything that allowed it to happen, but he knew that would only make things worse, so he tried to keep it in as much as possible. Even though he tried to hide what he was feeling as much as possible, anyone in his vicinity could notice how much more snappy he became and harsh towards anything that might slightly upset him.

Part of Mammon’s anger went to his greed and the other part became destructive. The world didn’t treat his treasure preciously, so why should he treat the world’s treasures preciously? He tried to get his hands on anything he could possibly want and then some. If anything tried to get in his way, it didn’t come out of the altercation without some hurt to show at the best. He ended up tied from the ceiling many times over.

Levi usually knew better than to fall into gamer’s rage. It made his play worse when he fell into anger, but almost every inconvenience in his game made him so angry he lost three controllers, almost five, if two weren’t fixable. A few brothers tried to redirect him to anime, so he, hopefully, wouldn’t be at risk of breaking something, but even watching something couldn’t distract him from the anger he felt. Anger at what? He didn’t even know anymore.

Satan found even the smallest thing to get angry at. There was always something wrong around him, and with all the anger he had, his demon form was always out. You could pretty easily track Satan because there was always something, or someone, broken in his wake. If something got in his way, he would get it out, one way or another.

Asmo’s anger went towards making sure his appearance was spotless, perfect. NOTHING would even scuff his shoes, he wouldn’t let it. He even started forcing his perfection on his brothers. His brothers should know better than to sully you name with their, according to him, horrific looks.

Beel wanted food. Food. Food. FOOD. His hunger stung more than usual and was never satiated. Not even a ten course meal could take the slightest edge off the hunger. How could others withhold food from him. He was obviously the one who needed it. Give. Him. The. Food. NOW.

Every sound became too loud for Belphie. Every light became too bright. He was trying to sleep. He wanted to sleep. How dare the horrible world try to assert itself in his life. The horrible world that took you away.

Bargaining

Lucifer played every event on his mind in repeat. What if he had done this instead? What if he had done that? Would you still be alive? He is one of the strongest demons, so why couldn’t he keep you with him? Was there something he could have done? Is there something he can do?

Mammon started stealing small things from your room to keep. A pencil here. A small price if jewelry there. He always had something of yours in his pocket. If he had these things form you with him, you wouldn’t be truly gone, right?

Levi started watching some anime’s you two had always talked about wanting to watch, and he started playing games you talked about wanting to play. He still couldn’t bring himself to touch things you were in the middle of, but with the new things, he could start them and then talk to you, your memory, about them.

Satan delved into any possible book with even the slightest relation to how you died. If he had every bit of knowledge, he would know what he could do, what he could have done. ANYTHING he could have done to have kept you here.

Asmo started to take influences from how you dressed. He would do anything to keep your memory alive. If he kept your memory alive, even in the smallest ways, you wouldn’t be completely gone, right? Right.

Beel tried to get the foods you liked to eat together. He got as many as he could. If he could eat with him, maybe it wouldn’t feel as though you were completely gone.

Belphie tried to act how he did while you were alive while also fixing anything you nitpicked him for. If he acted perfect, do whatever you may have wanted, maybe you could come back. Maybe he could see you at least one more time.

Depression

Lucifer tried his best to keep up with deadlines, and he did, but the work was sloppier than usual and only did the bare minimum. He tried this whole time to hide in his work, yet now it felt like everything started to crumble. He tried working this whole time, yet it didn’t bring you back. It didn’t even distract him. Why was he even trying?

Mammon became quiet and kept to his room mostly. He didn’t want to see areas, areas he normally saw you in, without you. He didn’t want to hear the silence. He still clung to the items of yours he took, but it didn’t dull the pain of you no longer being with him. He wanted you with him, but you weren’t, and it hurt. It hurt bad.

Levi lost all most all his energy. He didn’t even feel like lifting a controller to play a game. All he did day in and day out was passively watch some animes and sleep. There were a few days he was able to drudge himself out of bed to take a shower and get some nonsnack food, but those days were few and far between. He wanted to try. He knew you wouldn’t want to see him like this. He just couldn’t see a point.

Satan didn’t think he would ever know the feeling of anger blowing over into sheer pain, but now he can say he has. It wasn’t all gone of course, he wasn’t the Avatar of Wrath for nothing, a significant portion just felt painful, and only seems to get worse with time. Life was painful.

Asmo started to fall in on himself. He tried to use makeup to make everything look fine, but it never stayed for to long with his tears. He hated this feeling. He hated it so much. The world felt like it was crashing around him. You were the only glue for his world.

Beel stopped wanting food. He still ate because he needed to at least dull the pain of his hunger, but he felt so guilty. He didn’t want to eat when you can’t. He didn’t want to eat without you.

Belphie started blaming himself for everything he did to you in your life. He was rude. He tricked you. He KILLED you. Even if you revived and made it back, he still hurt you for something that was never your fault. Now you’re truly gone this time, and he can’t ever fully make up for what he did to you.

Acceptance

Lucifer would never get you back. He understood that, and he mostly came to terms with the sting. He started to return to how others new him. The oldest, most reliable brother and Diavolo’s right hand. He had a picture of you on his desk, started to tell you how his day was, and wished you well wherever you were.

Mammon came out of his room more and more. His schemes also came back more and more. He started to go back to his mischievous and energy filled life. He was never as dependent on the objects he’d taken to remember you by as he had been, but he still kept a memento of you on him at all times.

Levi finished the animes and games you wanted to do together. He made new saves on the games, and he made sure to tell you what happened. Hopefully wherever you were, you were able to hear him, and hear his thanks for being with him.

Satan finally started to be able to relax. You being gone still stung, but he was able to live with the sting now. He started reading books to an image of you, books that reminded him of you. He wanted you to know, wherever you were, that you were still remembered and loved, even if you weren’t there with them anymore.

Asmo started seeing the light of the world again. He started to return to how he was, outgoing and social. He mostly returned to his old style, but he still kept some aspects of how you dressed to remember you by.

Beel started return to his kind and caring self. He was still getting used to you not being there, he doubted he ever fully would, but he came to accept it was a fact you were gone and and he couldn’t change it. He started to go back to eating as much as he could, and he also continued to eat things that reminded him of you. He will remember you and how loving you were to him and his family.

Belphie came to understand you were gone, and he couldn’t bring you back. He regrets that he hurt you as much as he did, but he knows now that at least he can try to help others in your memory. He probably wouldn’t be like you, but he could at least do this to keep your memory and kindness alive.

Their thank you

You helped Lucifer learn to rely on others more, and helped him and his relationship with little brothers as well.

You helped Mammon feel as if he was more than a scumbag trying to imitate his older brother.

You helped Levi understand he isn’t horrible for liking what he likes and that he is truly loved.

You helped Satan truly understand emotions other than anger and how deep they all were.

You helped Asmo shared his insecurities and feel an attachment to someone who isn’t himself or his brothers.

You helped Beel get back his twin and helped him dull his ever lasting hunger.

You helped Belphie come to terms with what happened durning the Celestial War and helped him return to his brothers.

From the bottom of all their hearts, “Thank you”

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

Yuuri Katsuki has Bullied Kid energy.

Yuuri : Don't you dare see me as weak or perceive my vulnerability. Please comfort me and reassure me. I'll be constantly afraid of your reaction if I inconvenience you. Nothing scares me more than the people I trust lying to me. I'm more competent and at home in the face of people's scorn than in the face of their genuine love for me. The idea that anyone could see me as desirable is baffling. The world sees me as little more than dirt and I don't disagree with them. I am going to make them eat their teeth with their words or so help me I will set myself on fire trying. Just watch, I am the most beautiful woman in town and you will rue the day you underestimated me. How you like me now?

Victor, thinking he'd been dumped by the first person who'd made him happy in a very long time : I see this, I respect this, I am going to use the hell out of this. Hey. Hey fatty. Watch me pry the thing you love and use to cope with your feelings right out of your fingers until you lose weight. kinda reminiscent of what you did to me :) kinda sorta you know just a lil bit. You don't know what eros is? Okay, now you're just making fun of me.

Victor, after Yuuri had his katsudon eros realization : ...JFC he actually literally doesn't know. I. Uh. ...Huh. Well. Uhm. Okay. Maybe that means he doesn't get OTHER things too. He. He genuinely doesn't know what he did to me. He probably didn't even do it deliberately. Okay. Okay? Okay. I can work with this. THINK OF THE JUICY SUCCULENT PORK, BABE. ...I can't fkn believe this.

Victor, several episodes later when Yuuri reveals he literally doesn't remember the banquet: ...Well shit. The past year of my life has been a lie and I might be an asshole. Hm.

I've read some fics where after Yuuri's ED gets triggered and he crashes hard Victor looks back at all those early comments and goes 'I didn't mean it that way babe you're hot when you're fat and you weren't even that fat it was just that it could be unsafe for your joints to skate in that condition' and sure okay I get wanting to minimize the blow and Yuuri is adorable AF when he's heavier and i still enjoy those fics for the most part but

I disagree with that fully and completely cus nah, Victor's a petty lil bitch who can be cold and ruthless and isn't afraid to hurt people. Is he also warm and kind and loving and doing his best? Yes. He contains multitudes. But he was absolutely aiming to hurt, because he was hurt.

Yuuri, meanwhile, who's been bullied for a great majority of his childhood but has complete faith in Victor and unwavering confidence in his honesty - especially when that honesty fits his world view - that he has an entire Victor shaped blind spot : Eh? Pfft. He wasn't bullying me, what are you talking about? He was literally telling the truth. :/ I mean really, he was taking care of me.

Victor, falling to the ground and clutching his stomach with a groan because ooouuugghhh guilt-nausea : Y-....Yuuri.....

Yuuri : I mean Yurio can be a bully but that's just how he shows he cares so :3 Nah haha, I've had waaaay worse, trust me, lol

Yurio : ....I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative, one that I have never asked to be a part of?

Victor, convulsing :

I think Yuuri can absolutely pick up on when Victor is being dishonest with him and poking his sharp little fingers into the sore spots, but more on an intuitive level that he doesn't know how to make sense of logically, so he just accepts it and moves on largely without comment a;dlkf he'll probably figure it out like fifteen years down the road when he's older and wiser and one day he squints at his husband and goes "...huh, okay" and then never does anything about it anyway because he loves Victor and forgives him and also Victor's hot when he's being mean so

[profanetools]

Tagged by the wonderful @nuwanders and @wispstalk (thank you Frances and Ray) in this tag game. Most writers I know have been tagged, but I'm tagging @ervona @jiubilant @zurin regardless. Enjoy <3

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

She lurched forward, which made the bird – who she discovered was a crow named Gnorgi, could not eat carrots, and had since decided the piping of her external combustion engine was a very comfortable perch – very upset with her.

-- from my Free Day piece for TES summer fest this year. I think there's a few funny lines but I enjoyed balancing out the first section, where Bthemetz receives the most devestating letter of her life, with touches of humour.

A line from your fic that makes you sad

Clinging to that smock... and I think about how it smelled of her, her and fresh soap my omas made, and sometimes soot and hot metal and sometimes a little of the sea, because the soap couldn't always get rid of that smell. I didn't really give a damn. It was my uma. My uma. I'd just hold on to her, my uma, and try to bury myself in her clothes and cling on for dear life.

-- from Vyra: What's your fondest memory?

Think this one is self-explanatory.

A line from your fic you're proud of

The wind begins to roar. The seas surge inwards. The cold is sharp in the air. Kagrenac realises, despite themselves, that they would move the mountains to the stars to close the distance between them at that moment. That they would remake time and the world itself to lessen her pain, if they had such a power. The unspeakable things they would do, yet again, for Bthemetz! Those very same things that had torn them and the world apart. And where does that leave them, now? Here at the end of the world, apart and away from their people? They are only mortal. They cannot do anything. It is bitter, it is such a bitter thing, to reckon with. “I am sorry,” they say softly.

-- also from my Free Day piece for TES summer fest this year.

I edited this last paragraph a bunch as some adjustments got deleted by poor 4G connection on a train ride (fool me for trying to write on British Rail). Still, despite difficulties getting it back into shape, I love the core central irony of this. And it touches at the core of Kagrenac's character -- this is someone who has looked at the limits placed on them by mortality, by that injustice, and said 'no, I refuse that'. This is someone who moves mountains if those mountains inconvenience them.

IMO, there's power in that. TES is a world of petty gods and the dwemer, as I write them, refuse that logic and seek to write their own world, and I very much want to write that as something admirable rather than simply 'hubris'.

For Kagrenac, Chief Tonal Architect of the Dwemer, to say 'They are only mortal', that is such a concession, an admission of defeat. And yet, Kagrenac is so used to dealing with problems in this way that they don't seem to realise apologising is perhaps the most powerful thing they could do in this moment.

A line for your fic you think could have been better

”[...] Don’t you dare push me away because you believe you can think for me.” “I’m not trying to think for you, Bthem – I’m trying to warn you–” “And that’s fine, you can have your opinion – but you don’t get to tell me what is worth my time. That’s not for you to decide. If I end up dead or worse, that was my decision, that was on me. Don’t baby me–” “I’m not babying you.” “Then respect my opinion. [...]”

There's not a specific line but I do think It's the Opposite of A Problem has issues that really frustrate me in retrospect.

I don't think Bthemetz would have dealt with Kasmei self-sabotaging like a teenager (not entirely OOC imo, Kasmei has some immaturity) as gracefully or as leniently as she does here. I think it ought to have blown up into a big fight without a positive resolution. I also think the characters don't communicate in dialogue as much as talk at each other. I'm loathe to delete anything on my blog but I'd be tempted to delete this piece.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

“Have you lapsed back into an infantile theism, playing the dissident priest in a moment of senility in your old age, or do you simply wish to insult me, Bthemetz?”

-- From A Thesis On Twelve Tones: Chapter 7.

One of the most punchable Kagrenac lines.

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

I love you, you’ll tell her later, after you’ve brewed a pot of her favourite tea. you’ll nip out, when the sun’s still orange and she’s still trying to catch some not-actually-necessary sleep, and pick the dark stemmed leaves you know she likes, from the highest point of the mountain where the air thins, gets herself giddy over. it takes a lot out of you to visit her in person these days - you feel layers of you shedding every time you have to phase somewhere, like the world wants to yoink you back to the void like a naughty child. stay here says the universe. no, you shout back. you suspect there might come a day where you can’t do this, anymore. where you’ll actually be dead. wouldn’t that be funny, you’ve told Bthem, and she always tells you to shut your trap, because it’s better that you’re here. it’s better, so you’ll keep on struggling. you’ll keep on swimming, until they tear you down. “Good,” you say to her. “It’s a good thing, you’re still here. A really good thing.”

-- From The Sky is Full of Smoke.

I need to write a proper Kasmei/Bthem fic at one point because their soft moments are really good, IMO.

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

When you raise a knife to your scalp, you think better of it. You finish your tea. It's the fourth era of some empire you've never heard of. Dynasties, what are they good for? You sign the guestlist with VYRA. You give no family name.

-- from VYRA.

It's on the nose, but I love the certainty of this. It's characteristic of and yet represents a peaceful coming to terms with herself - she does not need to be either precisely 'dwemer' or 'chimer' by the norms either group demand, nor does she need to hold family ties that hurt her. the shaving metaphor is less subtext and more text: she is no longer almost violently trying to cut off the deeply dwemeri cultural background she has. but she also does not necessarily align herself with 'Kemel-Ze' or 'Demnevanni' or any other clan or house. Despite her abrasiveness, Vyra has actually conformed strictly to dwemeri or chimeri cultural expectations much of the time (with mixed success, she's v autistic-coded), and has found navigating her dual heritage really hard, and I think there's a lot of power in her accepting that as soon as she accepts herself.

I think the next step after this fic would be about her trying to reconnect with other lost Dwemer and trying to build some semblance of community, in ways that don't trap her back in academia.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

They are the stranger of the two: both unfamiliar and bizarre. They are cloaked in a thick mantle, the colour long faded, that trails to the top of their boots, but between the edges of heavy fabric one can glimpse an odd angle, a strange glint, of what looks like a suit of mismatched metal armour, wrong times, wrong periods, wrong histories soldered together, a patchwork of replacements and remnants, walking. The guide had wondered if there was anything but a shadow underneath it. (A shadow, a spectre, a haunting thing that wears a crossbow large enough to spear through a dragon’s heart, steady on their back.)

-- from Where is Shor?

This is actually Bthemetz, but funnily enough I think a lot of people actually missed that because of the deliberate use of they/them pronouns here.

A line from your fic that's shocking

“You would be cut down in less than year,” he says, simply. “You have no credentials, no family, and most Vvardenfell Clans have no great love for anyone in the Western Mountains. What little you would gather would be destroyed in a matter of minutes.” “It would be better,” they snap, “than another year sitting and doing nothing.”

-- Bauble

Not that shocking on the surface, but there's definitely something self-destructive about 19 year old Kagrenac, refugee of Nordic Occupation and Bitter about it, here arguing with 24 year old Dumac, lawyer-in-training and layabout (until they came along), about whether raising an army would be a sensible thing to do.

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

Bthemetz stops. She flings her arms outwards. “You tried to kill me!” “I know.”

-- also from my Free Day piece for TES summer fest this year.

Cheating here because I actually have a half-written fic all about this, actually. Hoping I will finish it before the end of the month.

[sylvielauffeydottir]

Hello, it is I, your friendly neighborhood historian. I am ready to lose followers for this post, but I have two masters degrees in history and one of my focuses has been middle eastern area studies. Furthermore, I’ve been tired of watching the world be reduced to pithy little infographics, and I believe there is no point to my education if I don’t put it to good use. Finally, I am ethnically Asheknazi Jewish. This does not color my opinion in this post — I am in support of either a one or two state solution for Israel and Palestine, depending on the factors determined by the Palestinian Authority, and the Israeli Government does not speak for me. I hate Netanyahu. A lot. With that said, my family was slaughtered at Auschwitz-Birkenau. I have stood in front of that memorial wall at the Holocaust memorial in DC for my great uncle Simon and my great uncle Louis and cried as I lit a candle. Louis was a rabbi, and he preached mitzvot and tolerance. He died anyway. 

There’s a great many things I want to say about what is happening in the Middle East right now, but let’s start with some facts. 

In early May, there were talks of a coalition government that might have put together (among other parties, the Knesset is absolutely gigantic and usually has about 11-13 political parties at once) the Yesh Atid, a center-left party, and the United Arab List, a Palestinian party. For the first time, Palestinians would have been members of the Israeli government in their own right. And what happened, all of the sudden? A war broke out. A war that, amazingly, seemed to shield Benjamin Netanyahu from criminal prosecution, despite the fact that he has been under investigation for corruption for some time now and the only thing that is stopping a real investigation is the fact that he is Prime Minister.

Funny how that happened. 

There’s a second thing people ought to know, and it is about Hamas. I’ve found it really disturbing to see people defending Hamas on a world stage because, whether or not people want to believe it, Hamas is a terrorist organization. I’m sorry, but it is. Those are the facts. I’m not being a right wing extremist or even a Republican or whatever else or want to lob at me here. I’m a liberal historian with some facts. They are a terrorist organization, and they don’t care if their people die. 

Here’s what you need to know: 

There are two governments for the occupied Palestinian territories in the West Bank and Gaza. In April 2021, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas postponed planned elections. He said it was because of a dispute amid Israeli-annexed East Jerusalum. He is 85 years old, and his Fatah Party is losing power to Hamas. Everyone knows that. Palestinians know that. 

Here’s the thing about Hamas: they might be terrorists, but aren’t idiots. They understand that they have a frustrated population filled with people who have been brutalized by their neighbors. And they also understand that Israel has something called the iron dome defense system, which means that if you throw a rocket at it, it probably won’t kill anyone (though there have been people in Israel who died, including Holocaust survivors). Israel will, however, retaliate, and when they do, they will kill Palestinian civilians. On a world stage, this looks horrible. The death toll, because Palestinians don’t have the same defense system, is always skewed. Should the Israeli government do that? No. It’s morally repugnant. It’s wrong. It’s unfair. It’s hurting people without the capability to defend themselves. But is Hamas counting on them to for the propaganda? Yeah. Absolutely. They’re literally willing to kill their other people for it.

You know why this works for Hamas? They know that Israel will respond anyway, despite the moral concerns. And if you’re curious why, you can read some books on the matter (Six Days of War by Michael Oren; The Yom Kippur War by Abraham Rabinovich; Rise and Kill First by Ronen Bergmen; Antisemitism by Deborah Lipstadt; and Israel: A Concise History of a Nation Reborn by Daniel Gordis). The TL;DR, if you aren’t interested in homework, is that Israel believes they have no choice but to defend themselves against what they consider ‘hostile powers.’ And it’s almost entirely to do with the Holocaust. It’s a little David v Goliath. It is, dare I say, complicated.

I’m barely scratching the surface here. 

(We won’t get into this in this post, though if you want to DM me for details, it might be worth knowing that Iran funds Hamas and basically supplies them with all of their weapons, and part of the reason the United States has been so reluctant to engage with this conflict is that Iran is currently in Vienna trying to restore its nuclear deal with western powers. The USA cannot afford to piss off Iran right now, and therefore cannot afford to aggravative Hamas and also needs to rely on Israel to destroy Irani nuclear facilities if the deal goes south. So, you know, there is that).

There are some people who will tell you that criticism of the Israel government is antisemitic. They are almost entirely members of the right wing, evangelical community, and they don’t speak for the Jewish community. The majority of Jewish people and Jewish Americans in particular are criticizing the Israeli government right now. The majority of Jewish people in the diaspora and in Israel support Palestinian rights and are speaking out about it. And actually, when they talk about it, they are putting themselves in great danger to do so. Because it really isn’t safe to be visibly Jewish right now. People may not want to listen to Jews when they speak about antisemitism or may want to believe that antisemitism ‘isn’t real’ because ‘the Holocaust is over’ but that is absolutely untrue. In 2019, antisemitic hate crimes in the United States reached a high we have never seen before. I remember that, because I was living in London, and I was super scared for my family at the time. Since then, that number has increased by nearly 400% in the last ten days. If you don’t believe me, have some articles about it (one, two, three, four, and five, to name a few). 

I live in New York City, where a man was beaten in Time Square while attending a Free Palestine rally and wearing a kippah. I’m sorry, but being visibly Jewish near a pro-Palestine rally? That was enough to have a bunch of people just start beating on him? I made a previous post detailing how there are Jews being attacked all over the world, and there is a very good timeline of recent hate crimes against Jews that you can find right here. These are Jews, by the way, who have nothing to do with Israel or Palestine. They are Americans or Europeans or Canadians who are living their lives. In some cases, they are at pro-Palestine rallies and they are trying to help, but they just look visibly Jewish.  God Forbid we are the wrong ethnicity for your rally, even if we agree.

This is really serious. There are people calling for the death of all Jews. There are people calling for another Holocaust. 

There are 14 million Jews in the world. 14 million. Of 7.6 billion. And you think it isn’t a problem the way people treat us?

Anyway (aside from, you know, compassion), why does this matter? This matters because stuff like this deters Jews who want to be part of the pro-Palestine movement because they are literally scared for their safety. I said this before, and I will say it again: Zionism was, historically speaking, a very unpopular opinion. It was only widespread antisemitic violence (you know, the Holocaust) that made Jews believe there was a necessity for a Jewish state. Honestly, it wasn’t until the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting that I supported it the abstract idea too.

I grew up in New York City, I am a liberal Jew, and I believe in the rights of marginalized and oppressed people to self-determine worldwide. Growing up, I also fit the profile of what many scholars describe as the self hating Jew, because I believed that, in order to justify myself in American liberal society, I had to hate Israel, and I had to be anti-Zionist by default, even if I didn’t always understand what ‘Zionism’ meant in abstract. Well, I am 27 years old now with two masters degrees in history, and here is what Zionism means to me: I hate the Israeli government. They do not speak for me. But I am not anti-Zionist. I believe in the necessity for a Jewish state — a state where all Jews are welcome, regardless of their background, regardless of their nationality. 

There needs to be a place where Jews, an ethnic minority who are unwelcome in nearly every state in the world, have a place where they are free from persecution — a place where they feel protected. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with that place being the place where Jews are ethnically indigenous to. Because believe it or not, whether it is inconvenient, Jews are indigenous to the land of Israel. I’ve addressed this in this post.

With that said, that doesn’t mean you can kick the Palestinian people out. They are also indigenous to that land, which is addressed in the same post, if you don’t trust me. 

What is incredible to me is that Zionism is defined, by the Oxford English Dixtionary, as “A movement [that called originally for] the reestablishment of a Jewish nationhood in Palestine, and [since 1948] the development of the State of Israel.” Whether we agree with this or not, there were early disagreements about the location of a ‘Jewish state,’ and some, like Maurice de Hirsch, believed it ought to be located in South America, for example. Others believed it should be located in Africa. The point is that the original plans for the Jewish state were about safety. The plan changed because Jews wanted to return to their homeland, the largest project of decolonization and indigenous reclamation ever to be undertaken by an indigenous group. Whether you want to hear that or not, it is true. Read a book or two. Then you might know what I mean.

When people say this is a complicated issue, they aren’t being facetious. They aren’t trying to obfuscate the point. They often aren’t even trying to defend the Israeli government, because I certainly am not — I think they are abhorrent. But there is no future in the Middle East if the Israelis and Palestinians don’t form a state that has an equal right of return and recognizes both of their indigenousness, and that will never happen if people can’t stop throwing vitriolic rhetoric around.  Is the Israeli Government bad? Yes. Are Israeli citizens bad? Largely, no. They want to defend their families, and they want to defend their people. This is basically the same as the fact that Palestinian people aren’t bad, though Hamas often is. And for the love of god, stop defending terrorist organizations. Just stop. They kill their own people for their own power and for their own benefit. 

And yes, one more time, the Israeli government is so, so, so wrong. But god, think about your words, and think about how you are enabling Nazis. The rhetoric the left is using is hurting Jews. I am afraid to leave my house. I’m afraid to identify as Jewish on tumblr. I’m afraid for my family, afraid for my friends. People I know are afraid for me. 

It’s 2021. I am not my great uncle. I cried for him, but I shouldn’t have to die like him. 

Words have consequences. Language has consequences. And genuinely, I do not think everyone is a bad person, so think about what you are putting into the world, because you’d be surprised how often you are doing a Nazi a favor or two. 

Is that really what you want? To do a Nazi a favor or two? I don’t think that you do. I hope you don’t, at least.

That’s all. You know, five thousand words later. But uh, think a little. Please. 

[hotlink907]

request: Jiu x fem!reader, reader has been stubborn all day, Jiu pins reader to the wall and starts making out then sex, hickeys everywhere and stuff like that

pairing: Jiu x reader

genre: smut

warnings: aggressive Jiu, hair pulling, thigh humping, hickeys, marking

You knew that you had been testing Jiu’s patience, but you didn’t know just how much until she finally snapped. She lunged forward and pressed you into the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to take your breath away. You looked at her in surprise and saw that her eyes were smoldering with a fire that you usually didn’t see in them.

You didn’t even get a chance to ask her what was going on. You knew she was going to tell you anyway.

“You’ve been stubborn all day?” Jiu said, her eyes still lit up with impatience and frustration. “What’s going on with you?” “With me? You’re the one who just pinned me to a wall!”

“Because apparently that’s the only way I can get your attention,” she said, exasperated.

“Minji, you could have just asked!” You wriggled, but she wasn’t loosening her grip.

“I did,” she said flatly. “Twice. You brushed me off both times.”

Okay, so maybe you hadn’t been having the best day. And yes, maybe you had ignored her a little more than you should have, but that wasn’t a reason for--

That was when you noticed just how close to your face she was. And how soft her lips looked. And how she was effortlessly pinning you to a wall. You felt a rush of heat wash over you, and it didn’t have anything to do with the temperature in the room.

“What’s going on with you?” Jiu asked. She also seemed to have noticed just how close the two of you were. You wondered if she was still annoyed, or if she was perhaps starting to feel some other emotion entirely.

“Nothing,” you said sullenly, your eyes flashing down to her lips before peeking back up at the rest of her face. “Just... distracted.” “Distracted from me?” Jiu asked, her tone a little lighter, though you noted that the fire in her eyes hadn’t exactly died out. “That doesn’t sound like you.” You stuck your chin out defiantly. “Well maybe you need to do a better job of getting my attention.” It wasn’t true at all, but it sounded like a good thing to say.

Jiu lifted one eyebrow. “Really? That’s what you’re going to say to me when I have you manhandled against a wall?” You didn’t respond, just gave her a daring look.

The fire that had been in her eyes ignited again, and you knew that you had just torn away her last shred of self-control. Which was just what you had been trying to do the whole time. She kissed you--not gently, not sweetly, but hungrily, with unreserved passion. There was nothing held back, no restraint at all. Just unbridled need and the aggression that you had brought out in her.

You felt her teeth on your lips, and then she was kissing your neck, and you knew that in just a moment, you would be feeling her teeth on your neck too. When she got like this, you were always left with marks that lasted days. Ordinarily, it would have been inconvenient. But sometimes, you just wanted the world to know who you belonged to.

You threw your head back as she continued to move down your neck. Her hands fumbled with your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor. You felt her hands grip you, her nails dig into you, and then she actually got her hands underneath your legs and...

She picked you up.

Your stomach flipped and dropped into a pit of pure desire. In all the time you had been with her, she had never done something so blatantly aggressive as this. And you were into it.

“What are you going to do?” you asked, looking down into her eyes. You had no idea where she had found the pure strength to do this, but you didn’t care.

“Whatever I want,” she said, before turning and carrying you in the direction of the bedroom.

Your mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

She dropped you onto the bed and you felt like you were frozen, paralyzed by lust and surprise. Then, in the next instant, she was all over you, removing what remained of your clothing, before sitting back and beginning to undress herself. Unlike the way she tore your clothing off, though, she took her time with her own, giving you a leisurely show as you stared at her, your mouth slack.

“Not so stubborn now, are you?” she asked as she finally flicked her thong to the floor.

You shook your head, but you didn’t say anything else. You couldn’t say anything else. You were so tongue-tied by the vision in front of you that you didn’t even know what you would say.

“Ride my leg,” she said. “Show me how bad you want me.” You sat up mutely and climbed to her leg, and started to work your hips and grind yourself against her without any hesitation. You could feel yourself leaving slick tracks on her thigh. Normally, you would have been beet red, embarrassed by how needy you were, but she had a chokehold on your mind and there was nothing you could do about it.

You felt her hand reach up and tangle themselves in your hair before she gave a firm yank, causing you to gasp. “That’s right,” she said. “Show me. How bad do you want it?” “I want it bad!” you cried out.

“Good,” she whispered, and then she leaned in and placed her lips on your neck again, and you felt the familiar suction of her deliberately giving you a hickey. “You’re going to get it bad.”

You frantically continued to hump her thigh, whimpering as you felt her nails dig into your back. You were going to be covered in marks tomorrow. And you didn’t even care. Because it all just felt so good, to lose yourself in her, to be owned by her, and to the let the world know it.

“Good girl,” she whispered, as you tried to speed up again. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you. I hope you’re ready.” You weren’t. But that was okay. As long as you were with her, you would be fine.

[solomonish]

The Brothers and What You Are to Them

Do you ever wonder what it is about you that keeps your demon by your side? Not necessarily the traits you have that attracted them to you (and still do), or what they think makes you you, but the reason you’ve become so irreplaceable and imperative in their life that they don’t think they could live without you.

Nowdateables: here!

To Lucifer, you feel like stability.

Lucifer isn’t an insecure man, nor does he need someone to lean on. He doesn’t find himself overwhelmed by what the world throws at him. He is capable, and he can shoulder the responsibilities expected of him and then some, no matter what they should turn out to be.

...at least, that’s what he thinks, and that’s what he says.

But he does find himself asking you to run errands for him when he needs them done correctly. He does find himself entrusting you to keep the roof of the house connected to the rest of it if he has to go away. You are the one who knows how he likes his coffee and when it should be brought to him to power him through the rest of his work without cutting into his scant sleep time. You keep things under control when everybody seems hellbent on making sure things don’t go the way Lucifer plans, and then you’re there to kiss his forehead despite his empty protests and remind him to take care of himself, too.

Lucifer doesn’t feel like the ground is shaking beneath him, ready to topple down at the slightest breath. But if he did, he knew you’d be there to keep him from plummeting down.

To Mammon, you feel like acceptance.

Mammon is called a lot of things in his life, especially by those who are supposed to hold him dear. He’s never smart enough, never behaved enough, never trustworthy enough, never good enough. And, when he gives up and decides not to make himself sick over expectations he’ll never be able to reach, he only gets worse. To everybody else, he’s scum, and sometimes he can’t help but feel it.

You should be saying those things to him, too, with the way he can’t help but hoard your time and your affections and yes, even your things sometimes.

But you don’t. You pet his head and hold him close and give him affection. You do it even when he makes it difficult on you and tries to tell you that he doesn’t want it. He does. He needs it, even. For the first time, he feels like somebody, he feels like he reaches the expectations set up for him and that he actually has a shot to be what somebody wants.

And when you tell him that you don’t have any expectations for him, none except for him to just be himself, he believes you. And it feels so, so nice.

To Leviathan, you feel like peace.

You would think that a life spent nearly entirely in a room playing video games would be easy and peaceful enough. Saying so aloud is a surefire way to get Leviathan to snap.

Envy never allows him to know peace. His video games, manga and anime are a distraction along with a passion. At least he can fend off some of the negative energy with the knowledge that he is the biggest megafan of any number of franchises and titles. Still, despite that, despite the calming water he modeled his room after, he still feels the jealousy tearing at his inside like unstoppable tumultuous seas.

But you stop that. You are the greatest thing, and even if he isn’t sure why you’d ever consider him worthy, he can find that peace in being the one that you’d rather spend your time with and give your affections to. He makes it hard, and he knows he does - but you persist, and you cast that life raft out to him and finally, he feels like maybe he won’t drown anymore.

When he does allow himself to sit and just be the person that, for some reason, you love, his waters still and he knows what it is to really be loved.

To Satan, you feel like understanding.

Satan has had to build a wall around himself brick by brick to hide the ugliness that nobody would dare approach, that he never even asked for and never would have.

He is the king of masks. For any situation, he has about twenty that he can switch between flawlessly, keeping you on your toes and creating a labyrinth so involved nobody will ever figure it out. Well, everybody except for you.

You managed to find your way to his core, sometimes when he wanted you too and always when he didn’t. Sometimes, you figured out the riddles he laid out for you like breadcrumbs, your smile lighting up and lightening his heart so spectacularly he felt like a new person. Other times, you snuck in with a wrecking ball and made your own way to his center, leaving the walls he set up in ruins. Most of them, he isn’t sure he wants to rebuild - not if they keep you out. At the end of the day, even if it’s cheesy, even if it’s unexpected (and that bruises his ego to admit), he finds that you understand who he is so intimately, you may know him better than he knows himself.

Maybe, with your constant meddling, you invented the person he’s become, or at least helped in his formation - but, if you like him that way, that might not be such an insufferable fate.

To Asmodeus, you feel like sweetness.

The life led by someone with eyes on him all the time is ferocious.

Even for somebody who can charm anybody with a simple glance, Asmo has an equal talent for scorning those he leaves behind. For every person gushing at his Devilgram and tracking his whereabouts for an autograph or a photo, there’s someone cursing his name and spewing the worst kinds of insult that will never directly reach his ear. In his life, you take the pleasure with the pain, and you don’t complain about either or you’ll lose the only good you’ve got.

But nothing about you is so vile. You don’t chase after him just to prove that you’ve met him (even if, at first, he was a little miffed at the prospect), and you’d never say something so soul-shatteringly hateful it’d make even a demon lord cringe. You give him the kindness that doesn’t come with expectations or desire for something in return, the kind that might even come unconditionally. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to prove anything, like he’d still be the most wonderful, beautiful creature in all the realms to you even if (gasp!) everybody else turned their backs on him. There’s a sort of innocent kindness in the way you smile at him that gives him a sugar high, and he isn’t always sure of what to do with it.

Once, he was a creature made to be loved and adored, and you make him feel like there was never a time where such a privilege was ripped away from him.

To Beelzebub, you feel gentle.

Beelzebub is a big guy, and he’s a well-known athlete. People don’t look at him and think he’s fragile goods.

And he isn’t. He is his family’s defender, and he’s been through battles terrible enough they still hang over those who even know about them like storm clouds. But inside his tough exterior, the uncaring aura he accidentally portrays when all he can think about is keeping himself fed, there’s a person that craves the same affections everybody else does. Beelzebub isn’t just hungry for food - he feel empty, entirely hollow, like a void he’s worried will grow too big to be distracted and swallow everything he cares about whole. Sometimes he feels so empty he could just curl up and die.

But, whatever it is you have, it fills him up so deliciously and he’s hooked. It’s even enough for him to just know that you’re around and taken care of - that staves off the worst of it, and he suddenly doesn’t feel like a beast that will be the downfall of all he loves. You give him patience with his need to eat, you give him gentleness with your touches and your smiles, and your voice doesn’t have that exasperated edge everybody else’s does. 

He isn’t a powerhouse or a bottomless pit to you - he’s a person, and it’s more than he could ever ask for.

To Belphegor, you feel like forgiveness.

Belphegor does a lot, he is a lot, and most of it feel wrong.

If he could keep himself awake for longer, he might have enough time to dig himself into a pit of self-loathing in the way Levi does. But he just feels empty, a void broken by occasional bouts of fury, or hatred, or pain of some sort. It’s hardly an existence, so he does the bare minimum, hardly passing the threshold for living because to do so would be more than he could deal with. Hell, the only time he has to think and to do things, he spends trying to inconvenience the person who (supposedly) cares most for him or hurting others - hurting you.

God, how can you look at him like that? Like he’s somebody you can trust, like he’s somebody worth an effort when he himself doesn’t give a damn? It’s weird, it’s stupid, it’s just like you humans to do, and it can never stop. It’s too much for him to deal with, but that’s a good thing. The time he spends wrestling with your forgiveness is time spent being productive, something he’s not exactly been accused of before. And sometimes, that diligence spreads to other thins: his relationship with his brothers, his relationship with humans, his relationship with himself.

You make him want to put the work in because you make him feel like he amounts to something - and you make him feel like his mistakes haven’t completely blotted out his hopes for the future the way he used to think they did.

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vi)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: BUCKY BARNES IS BACK AND HAS A CONFIRMED PERSONALITY 

also omg everyone who’s been sending me ideas- ur the lomls. 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Your place or mine? ;)

He stares at the text.

The right answer is mine. See you at the lair.

“Y’all are dating now?” Clint peeks over his shoulder. 

“Fuck no,” Bucky says indignantly. “God forbid.”

“Okay, man,” he retracts, giving Bucky space to turn around and face him. “What do you want to call your mini dates then?”

“Missions,” Bucky corrects him.

“No one wants to go on a mission. You volunteered to go back there.” 

“It’s for the good of the tristate area.” 

“I bet.” The snort he lets out contradicts his words. “Whole world is depending on you, Barnes. Go save them from the treachery of your crush.”

“Enemy.”

“Girlfriend.”

“Mortal nemesis.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Go further, I dare you.”

“What are you gonna do? Choke me? Punch me with your metal arm?” Clint cranes his neck. “Bring it, big boy. I’m not scared of some kinky shit.”

He hates living here. 

The door is left open for him. 

This time, even though the lair is still illuminated by the green light out in the front, there’s a minor change. Sunlight streams in through a skylight in the roof. 

There’s a ladder there, leaning against the rim. It gives him an entrance to the roof, which, judging by the lack of any other presence in the lab, is where he’s supposed to go.

As he gets closer he notices there’s a note on one of the rungs.

‘Evil’ with an arrow pointing upwards.

He rolls his eyes, discarding it on the floor before swiftly scaling the steps.

“Ah, Mr. Barnes,” he hears your voice call out even before his head pops up above the surface. “We’ve been expecting you.” 

He pauses, looking around. “Who’s with you?”

Because other than the gigantic machine pointed up towards the sky, there’s only you with a visor and sunglasses. The  best way he can describe its design was that it was shaped like a pine cone, had a large antenna pointed towards the sky, two handlebars near its base to manoeuvre it with a large button in between them. 

“Just imagine I have my henchmen with me,” you urge. “I’m on a budget, man, I can’t afford them yet. Maybe when my cloning machine finally works-”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s a James Bond reference,” you add when he doesn’t show any signs of answering. 

“Haven’t watched it yet.” Bucky shrugs. “We’re doing Star Trek right now.”

“You’re done with Star Wars?” you, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Nice. You’d find the spy shit ridiculous anyway, it’s way below your level.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He makes a mental note to add the Bond movies to the list. 

“Speaking of stars,” you begin, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to harness the power of the sun.”

“For what?” He doesn’t bother asking how, he already knows you’ve figured out something. 

“There’s a science exhibition and my team’s stupid solar car experiment isn’t working and I need it for them to win.” 

“So build a better one.” 

“No, ours is the best and if Jeff and his stupid baking soda volcano beat us then we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”

“Your hands,” he emphasises. He has nothing to do with this.

“I said what I said, boy.” You glare at him. “This is our problem now.”

“How much power are you taking?” If it’s insignificant enough, it wouldn’t matter much. He thinks. 

“The whole thing.”

He laughs. He stops when you don’t.

“You’re taking all the energy of the sun to power your shitty science model.”

“Your face is a shitty science model,” you mimic him in a higher pitched voice. “I will do anything to win.”

He wonders which grade kid you stole that insult from was in. There’s no way they were anything older than 13. He could use it on Steve, maybe.

“Everyone on Earth will die.” He feels the need to remind you, even though there was no way it was actually going to take place. Eat shit, Clint. This superseded the tristate area.

“Not for eight minutes.” You look at your watch. “And, if Jeff dies then I win by default.”

“You’ll die too,” he points out. 

“I’ll die a winner.” You nod seriously as if that makes it better. 

He’s not that worried. Experience tells him that you’re not a mass murderer willingly. 

“You’ll die an idiot.” 

“Only if you don’t stop me.” Your lips curve into a smile. “And how will you when I do this?”

You yank the machine to point towards him and slam the button. His hand reflectively pulls in front of him to defend himself. Something hits him with enough force to send him skidding backwards slightly. 

He removes his hand carefully from in front of him, looking at you. 

Something feels off.

“You just-”

The knives strapped to his thighs suddenly feel heavier.

“Took your powers?” you finish his thought. “Yeah.”

He feels his body tip towards his left. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of the arm. Had it been this heavy all this while? 

“You’ve barely changed,” you noted, “You’re just regular Bucky but like, 20% less beef.”

After all, he was a boxer when he was a teen. One of the best men the Howling Commandos had even before the serum.

His shoulder feels heavier though. And somehow he thinks he’s sensing things a little less. He can’t really hear the faint buzzing of the generator downstairs anymore.

“Yep, that’s real muscle.” He turns when you poke at his shoulder. He doesn’t know when you got there. “You’re like a modern day Schwarzenegger. Grade A beefcake.”

He can’t see the construction site near the horizon as clearly as he used to. 

Something about this situation makes him feel like he’s going to have a midlife crisis, even though he’s overshot the age by a huge number. No one has a midlife crisis at 106. 

“Now that we’ve established that this works,” you say, back near the machine again. When did you walk there? “Let’s show this bitch that I’m the brightest star allowed in this solar system.” 

He shakes his head to jolt himself awake, shoves aside his mental dysfunction and breaks out into a sprint when you pull the device down to aim it at the sky. 

He latches onto the side, using his left hand to pull himself up, straddling the machine.

“Excuse me,” you exclaim like it’s a minor inconvenience and he feels the machine sway wildly under him. “You’re weighing it down, get off my inator.”  

You’re shooting recklessly, trying to shake him off. It’s not dissimilar to the mechanical bull Natasha made him ride during a mission down south so she could win money off placing bets on him. They had lobster that night.

He reaches down to its side, hoping to feel maybe a panel he can rip off. He finds nothing.  

He hopes none of the rays are actually hitting anything. It’s a little harder to stay on than he’d imagined it would be, and he thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best plan. 

He changes his mind in a split second, swinging himself over so that he can climb the underside of the machine like a monkey bar. He feels like a fucking insect. How was Peter not mortally embarrassed? 

He factors in the fact that his hands are getting clammier and his grip is slipping faster than usual. Also, he can taste his lunch at the back of his throat.

“Motherfucker,” Bucky curses when his hand slips, leaving him to hold on only by his metal arm. 

“You okay?” you call out, not giving him a second to recover unless he really needed it.

He lets out a grunt, swinging his arm up and catching hold of the antenna, yanking it down and towards the machine itself. He pulls himself up so that he’s straddling the machine again. 

One more shot and-

“Very smart, Barnes,” you say dryly, letting go of the handles. 

He sends you a sly grin before sliding down the barrel, kicking the large button with his heel right before he jumps off. 

The beam shoots out, instantly meeting with metal. The device automatically gives a mechanical groan before powering down, turning off altogether. 

“I hate you,” you huff, before noting his paleness. “D’you want some water? An IV maybe?”

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.

He’s tired, more so than he would have been under any normal circumstance. He feels a little dizzy, a little disoriented. 

“Don’t worry, your magic powers will be back in a few minutes or so.” You examine the bent antenna, pressing the button and sighing when it stands there lifelessly. “Once Jeff wins, I’ll send the dry cleaning receipt to you. You can pay to get the tear stains out of the kids’ outfits.”

“Your tears or theirs?” He’s relieved about the powers returning, he thinks.

“Both, bitch.” Your eyebrow quirks at his retort. Clearly, he had more energy in him than people realised; his brain seemed to be working fine. He was stronger than you thought. Good for him. 

“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” He lets out a final exhale before standing up a little straighter. 

“Thanks. It’d be better if you asked your billionaire tech genius to send us something, but okay.”

“It’s a middle school science exhibition. Make a potato battery or something.”

You tsk-tsk. “No points for creativity, Mr. Barnes.”

It creeps into his mind without warning. He wonders if he actually wanted the powers back. Wonders what his life could be if he maybe retired, settled down. For the brief time he feels like his pre-war self, he starts to think like his pre-war self.

“I’m not the one who’s about to lose to a baking soda volcano,” he finds time to respond, however. 

“Your face is a baking soda volcano.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I will not lose.”

“You’re running out of time. Chop chop.”

But the thought hits him. Who is Bucky without his super soldier serum? If he doesn’t have his powers then he can’t think of what use he is to the Avengers.

Who the hell is Bucky if he can’t provide a service to others? How else does he make up for being himself?

His, what he’s now deemed, afterlife crisis is starting to look more apparent.

He compartmentalises and stores it away in a box. He’ll bring it up with his therapist later. 

“I’m going to win and then you’ll be sorry you weren’t a part of it because you didn’t let me steal the sun.” 

“If you win, I’ll still be glad I didn’t let you.” He climbs back down the ladder, feeling the ache in his muscles reduce with every passing minute. 

True to your word, his powers do return a while later. 

And while he’s watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter in the living room two days later, his phone beeps with a text. 

It’s a picture of a blue first place ribbon next to a toy car that looks like it’s powered by a potato battery. Beside it is an out of focus middle finger that is aimed at him. 

Congratulations, he texts back. Told you potato batteries always win.

Your face always wins, he receives in return. He can’t tell if you’re insulting or flirting with him. 

He just shuts his phone off and goes back to watching the show. 

Next part

[mara-xx217]

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.

[reikeip]

Crossroad ♱ Chaos 3

Location: Downtown

Rei: Ahhh~ With the sun finally settin’, it's much easier to breathe.

Keito: That troublesome constitution of yours. I don’t see any signs of it improving.

Rei: That’s exactly why it’s my constitution, it ain’t like I'm sick with some kinda disease. There’s no easy fix for all this y’know~?

Just ‘cause two arms can get in your way, ya shouldn’t go choppin’ one of ‘em off, right~?

I’m in the same boat as that childhood buddy of yours. Gotta live with this inconvenience ‘till the day I die~

Keito: Eichi was born with a weak constitution, but he’s been improving it steadily.

Nothing is impossible for mankind. If you're willing to be cured, surely I can ask someone like Eichi to refer you to a doctor.

Rei: Hmmm~ I dunno so much about me, but a lotta my family thinks we should take pride in our nature—Somethin' like that.

Let’s say I do get a normal constitution, an’ they catch wind of it. ‘fraid that means I'm kicked right outta the family~

My bro's case is way more serious than mine, so if there’s a cure, I'd like to try it on him~

Ah well, I guess it's impossible to find a cure in our generation anyway~

Been tryin’ to talk to a specialist on the down low, usin’ my contacts overseas and all, but so far it seems nothin’ can be done.

Keito: Oh, so you’ve been traveling the world because—

Rei: Haha. ‘Cause my family can’t get me if I’m on the other side of the ocean~ For generations, we've hated crossin’ bodies of water like that.

But, now’s not the time to worry about my situation, right~?

Keito: Do I have a reason not to worry about it? We're friends, aren’t we? So if you ever find yourself at a loss, rely on me.

Rei: Yep, yep. I like those kindsa shameless things ya can say without hesitation, Bouzu ♪

Keito: Don’t pat my head! Just how long are you planning on treating me like a child for!?

Rei: Ahaha. C’mon, this is a emergency, ain't it? We should get a move on. I’m not familiar with outta school turf, so where we headin’?

Keito: Right. Do you know the underground music venue downtown? That’s our destination, but we need to come up with a plan of attack.

Don't you dare do anything irresponsible—I don't want to be so rash as to poke bushes that could have snakes in them.

Rei: Snakes are tasty. It'll be fine, so let's a go-go pokin' an' smashin around~ ♪

Keito: H-hey! Think a bit before you act!

Even if you would be just fine doing as you please, you’re lumping me in with you while you're at it—I won't be able to endure this!

Kuro: ……

Keito: (Hm? I can feel his eyes on me… what’s with that guy. If I’m not mistaken, that’s Kiryuu, right?)

(Just what is he doing in a place like this?)

(I looked him up because he’s the unusual type for our school; he seems to be infamous for his reputation as a delinquent in his hometown.)

(Are you wasting your time away like some hoodlum, slacking off with no aim?)

(Well, if he tries anything, we’ll deal with him. But he’s probably not involved this time. For now, I should just deal with the situation at hand.)

(Who knows… Will this turn out for better or for worse?)

(My scheme… I hope Sakuma-san hasn’t figured it out.)

(...Well, assuming he does see through me, the next best outcome would be that he finds my trap amusing enough to ensnare himself in it.)

(Repaying good with evil like this, it hurts… But I’ll get as much use out of you as humanly possible, Sakuma-san.)

Kuro: (…………)

(Hm~... What’s with those guys, ain’t they wearin’ our school’s uniform?)

(I don’t see faces like ‘em in this neighborhood everyday. Especially the serious glasses wearin’ type……)

(It ain’t safe around here, so they could easily run into some trouble with idiots who wanna start fights.)

(Well, it’s none of my business.)

Souma: Pardon, sir. How dost thou?

Kuro: …Eh? Hell are ya doing? Don’t talk to me like that, okay?

Souma: Forgive me my impudence. Thou dost crouch; thus I thought thee unwell.

Kuro: …It ain’t anything like that. I’m just sittin’ here resting.

I gotta kill some time while I wait for my sis to get outta school, but all the prices ‘round here are too high, so I can’t even go into a coffee shop or somethin’ to wait it out.

Souma: Hm. I little understand, but I’m glad that thou art in good spirit. Howe’er, thou mayst disturb traffic should thou remain seated here.

Kuro: Ya don’t say. But regardless, I was tryna stay as far into this corner as I could, yanno?

Souma: Ay, but thy well-endowed physique… But e’en should thou rest, thou dost lack manners that thou wouldst lie about in the streets.

There is a… "bench" yonder; shall I accompany you to it?

Kuro: Huh. Don’t get so up in my shit… it’s annoyin’, just leave me as is.

Souma: Fufu. mine apologies. I’m oft scolded that I cannot read the room.

Though reality be that my fear was unfounded, wert thou truly unwell, overlooking such a thing would be unrighteous of me.

Do you disagree, sir?

← previous | all | next →

Collaboration with: ciel

[zv5x]

What if reader was really obsessed with Senpai, [like they played his game everyday whenever they can, literally memorizing all the choices and reactions, all that jazz] And they found a way into the game?? Basically yan!reader x Senpai

Also idk if these are taken but could i please be 🥀 or 💐 anon?? Tyssm!!

You can most definitely have those Anons! Either one you want since they're both open! Also omg??? I absolutely love this consept!! Thanks so much for requesting it! Remember to stay safe and take care of yourself!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You hummed, gently tracing a finger across your television screen as the familiar menu music played oh-so beautifully. It was truly the peak of music in your eyes, not that it had any right to be anything but however. What would you do if the game that inhabited your beloved soulmate was anything but remarkable? It would be nothing short of blasphemy, that was to be for certain.

Under any other circumstance, you'd be turning this game on simply to see the man that made your entire universe go round. To just talk to him, read those dialogue screens with the same amount of interest you had before you memorized everything the absolute angel had to say, to just be in his presence for as long as you could. Every second you spent around him made your world feel a little bit purer, he made everything feel like it was going to be okay.

Today, however, marked the day that you would be the one giving to him, instead of just he giving everything he could to you. It broke your heart that you couldn't do anything to repay Senpai for his kindness, almost as much as it broke your heart when you forced yourself to obtain a negative game ending for curiosities sake. Your body fell under a deep, agonizing sickness every time you even pondered about whether or not Senpai realize how truly adored he was. That is why you did everything in your power to make sure you could show your love to him.

You went through every library in your area and even beyond that reading various literature pieces regarding dimensional travel, as you assumed that is what it would take to finally be with him physically in his very world. By the time a few days passed, you considered yourself a master of the subject.

Your once clean desk was now cluttered and messy as you went over a final draft for your plans. It was simple, really, to simple. It was quite inconvenient that you only had to rely on books that were written before video games were even established on the consumer market, but it would have to do. Search engines were deemed unreliable from the minute you began doing your research on them - believing that you were intending to enter the video game industry rather than physically entering the universe of a certain title.

Eventually, you stood in front of Senpai with grand confidence, and with a promise to fufil. Soon, you'd be within his physical reach. He was smiling at you, saying words of such love and adoration, as if he was breaking through the bounds of the games script just to praise you for your hard work. Within the next hour, you'd have paid your debt to your beloved. His hard work and determination to make this relationship work would finally be appreciated by his one true love.

Giving the pixelated figure a gentle kiss, you laid back on the floor and relaxed your entire body, thinking solely of who you were trying to meet and exactly what you wanted to accomplish. You remembered reading in one of your covered books that the main method of dimensional travel was complete detachment from your physical self in this reality. Of course, your fears of not being able to meet Sen were immediately eased, considering you felt you have long mastered the art of depersonalization.

Soon, you felt yourself grow tired. Maybe that was a sign everything was falling in to place, or maybe it was just your lack of proper sleep catching up to you the moment it saw the opportunity. You hoped the second reason wasn't the case, and you quickly focused your thoughts back onto your goals as everything faded into a calming black.

You truly had no way of knowing how long you were out for, but what you did know was that the climate felt noticably different from your room. The air felt pure, clean and just the perfect amount of coldness to make breathing a genuinely enjoyable necessity. As soon as your eyes opened, you were met with a figure standing closely in front of your face. Upon waking up just for a few more seconds, your eyes quickly widened and your heart began to pound in an extremely fast paced rythem. It was him. It was your cherished, beloved Senpai.

"Ah, there you are!" He sighed in relif, gently patting your head as he gave you a reassuring smile. "I thought you'd never wake up, I was so worried!"

"Sen-Senpai?!" You immediately sat up, prompting him to give you a soft laugh as he sat you back down into a more relaxed position. He hummed and nodded his head, looking at you with a look of such elegant care that it made your heart completely swell.

"I appreciate you being so happy to see me dear, but I can't have you moving too much after you just woke up. It must have been a nasty fall for you to be out for so long..." He gave you a slight pout, and you stared at him for a moment whist blinking.

For some reason, he didn't seem as...happy to see you as you would have expected. You wanted to feel a form of disappointment, but everything had its reason, and you had to ask Senpai before making assumptions.

"Sen...do you know who I am?"

You asked, and all he did was tilt his head. "Well, no, I assumed you were a new student at first..." He gave a nervous giggle, before rubbing the back of his neck. "Have we...met before...?"

Your heart sunk. He didn't...he didn't remember you? No, that couldn't have been the case. The love the two of you felt was too strong for him to just forget. Maybe something needed to just jog his memory.

"M-my name is (Y/N), I told you my name was (N/N), we spent entire days together, I got all of your games endings, we've been through so much together Sen! Please, try and remember!" The desperation in your voice was as clear as day, and even Senpai felt it. He looked down for a moment, trying to throw your name through every inch of his mind. Until, he hit a mark.

All those times he spent with you, the good, the bad, everything you gave to him and everything you did for him. It was you! His player, his (Y/N)! Suddenly, you saw his eyes brighten and tears prick his pretty blue eyes. Letting out a choked gasp of pure bliss, he threw himself into your arms and pressed his forehead lovingly against yours. Of course, you immediately wrapped your arms around his perfect form, peppering him with as many kisses as you could manage and moving your arms up to be able to run your fingers through his hair. It was just as soft as his game sprites made it look. Absolutely perfection. You knew you had no reason to worry, you just needed to jog Senpai's memory a bit. After all, how could he forget the love of his life?

"I-I can't believe I'm finally able to meet you, (Y/N)..." He said, his normally perfectly silky voice trembling with euphoria. "Please...never leave me..." A soft sniffle could be heard as he nuzzled his head into you and completely laid himself onto you, and you promptly gripped him as tightly as you could without bringing him harm.

"Don't you worry, Senpai..."

You said, leaning back slightly to be able to look him in his pretty eyes. You made him a promise from the moment you saw him, and you could never even think of letting a person as pure and perfect as Senpai down.

"I'll be by your side forever." Kissing him gently on the top of his head, you smiled and rested your cheek upon it. "I wouldn't dare let anything tear us apart."

[silversatoru]

AAAHHHH im sorry I couldnt help but send another ask! If you want to, how about ancient Japan Sukuna + angst 3? Thank you so much again!

don’t apologize dummy i love ur angst reqs

angst #3: you died a few days ago, how are they coping with it?

tw: brief mention of suicide

sukuna ryoumen

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

sukuna doesnt feel things like love, he never has and never will. sukuna also doesn’t feel remorse for the people he kills; he doesn’t feel sorry for the villages he burns to the ground; and he doesn’t feel any loyalty to the people who worship his shrines.

sukuna doesn’t feel things like love, but you were the closest he ever got. 

he’d watched you take your last breaths a few days ago, your pretty lips letting out the heaviest sigh when you finally passed. maybe it was a sigh of relief, maybe because death tasted sweet after the sour torture sukuna had inflicted on you for years. 

sukuna doesn’t feel things like love, but he does feel things like lust, obsession, even ownership. 

he still remembers the day he first laid his greedy eyes on you, your flowery kimono rustling in the wind as you walked. he was immediately intrigued by you, specifically by your apathy towards the world — it was almost as hate-fueled as his own. 

but this wasn’t a love a first sight kind of scenario, it was much darker than that. your eyes didn’t shine and your heart didn’t skip a beat when you saw him — and he thought you were beautiful but in the most twisted way possible. 

he didn’t see you as a lover, more like a collectable, a trophy, something to admire and play with when he got bored. and you didn’t see him as a lover either, more like an escape, a way out of your worthless, sexist village where you had no freedoms. this wasn’t love, it was a mutually beneficial exchange that developed into something deeper than it was ever meant to be. 

control, that’s what you were trying to escape, right? the oppression of the men in your village, the lack of opportunity, the traditional life that you despised so greatly? if only you’d known that walking into sukuna’s arms would be even more restrictive than anything your village could have imposed on you. 

obsession, that’s how sukuna’s brain was hardwired when it came to you. once he had you in his clutches there was no escape -- he had you on a leash at his feet while he sat on a throne of power. you were his pet, his toy, his plaything, and he used you as he pleased.

so when he found you bleeding out on the marble floor of one of his shrines with a bloody dagger in your hand, that obsession of his fueled a fire in his brain. how dare you leave him like this? you belonged to him, and you thought this was okay? who was going to entertain him now?

every village and city in a 500 mile radius burned to the ground that night. sukuna demolished buildings and wiped out entire populations in an uncontrollable rage. men, women, and children -- no one was spared from his endless attacks of bitterness. 

sukuna doesn’t feel things like love, but god was it the biggest inconvenience of his life when you died.