#so even if he does bleed out and die on a bedroom floor it would be the first and only time and not a third seventh or tenth

[milimeters-morales]

Miles waking up in the middle of the night to a noise and he sees Hobie or Gwen struggling to climb into his room and they’re all bloodied and beaten, so he hurries up and ushers them in without even thinking about what to tell his parents if they wake up (which he can probably get away with saying that they’re a friend who came to him for help bc he technically isn’t lying and hello, badly injured kid in front of two parents) and rushing to grab first aid supplies to help as much as he can. Maybe there’s still a bloodied handprint on his windowsill when it’s all over (for better or worse), and he stares at it for a while. just thinking about his own life and what he wants to do with it outside of being Spider-Man. and then he cleans it up and goes about his day.

[badly-drawn-doflamingo]

The Brutality (and some censoring) Of The Rumbar Deaths.

Similar to my piece on Yorki and his lil sickness, this is again just something that haunts me constantly and is honestly something I don’t see anyone else talking about. Maybe this is because I have Rumbar Pirates autism. The deaths of the Rumbar Pirates are often thought to just be the snippet we see during their final moments, however Oda paints a much darker picture, with such dark hues the anime had to censor some of this. More than just Binks Sake happened to these men.

To begin, I am going to introduce you all to a certain Rumbar Pirate. Pirates.

This is Madaisuki! He has a twin brother named Madawadasuki Mizuta!

These Mizuta boys are named this because they are the japanese pun of “I love DOTS!” and “Dots ain’t half bad!” We know they were young, and that they wanted to be just like Brook. (I will go over these statements a bit later.) They wore matching clothing, mirroring one another as some twins do, having a tight bond. We already know their candles were snuffed out too short, but do you know how this happened to each? Madawadasuki is shown in the Bink’s Sake flashback, blood pooling on his temple and matting some of his hair. He looks tired, but with a smile, plays on with the other remaining crew. That is the key word here, remaining. There were hundreds of men on this ship yet THIS is what we see surrounding Brook on the deck? Where are the rest. THAT is where Madaisuki comes in. 

Madaisuki does not die on screen, but his body, just the body, is gruesome enough that the anime had to censor it. When we find the young man, he is in one of the off rooms, looks to be the dining area, thrown onto the floor with his arms outstretched, with his hair still attached to the skull.

This is not the reason behind the censoring, no, the reason is the cause of death.

Plunged into his skull and back, pinning his body to the floor with his jaw still open, are his own weapons. His own swords pin his body to the floor, so even if he somehow survived the attack, he could not get up, however with your own blade through your brain case and into the blood spattered floor below you, that is not much of an option. Those swords.. they also are made to mirror YORKI’S. They both wanted to be just like their Captains.

[ more info on Maddy here ]

This leaves a few things open for the reader to take in. Why is he tucked away in an off room like this? Well, it means the battle either continued into these rooms, not just on deck, which is more than likely shown by the shattered mirrors and doors in the bedrooms and hallways we see, or poor Madaisuki was cornered, overpowered, and butchered.

In any case, this means his brother either also saw this and continued to smile and sing for Laboon, or held a hope that somehow, his twin was just somewhere else, tucked away to die in peace. How many other men died this way, for we see bedroom doors torn off hinges and blood spattering the walls.

Time does do that, a butchering does.

This is just one body, one upon hundreds, we know this because of a line Franky states so casually I am unsure if the anime added it; “We could not carry them all, we buried them here. The weight was too much for the Sunny to take.”

The weight was too much for the Sunny to take.

How many men died, because those multiple upon multiple coffins were not filled with bodies, but skulls. Only skulls.

If the ship cannot carry it, how do we expect BROOK?? He must hold grief for he was acting Captian, these things on his head alone, and knowing he failed his partner, my god, that must ache. To know you created widows, fatherless children, families who will never know if their little boys or men or partners or fathers would come home. No closure, only Brook, and the poison that caused the remaining light-hearted musicians to bleed out in their little heap.

When Brook picks up the skull of Madaisuki, a memory comes to mind. Perhaps not a recent one, for he knew them for many years, but one that stood out to him. One Oda chose for us to see as a representation of Brook’s thoughts;

“You’re awesome, Brook! Can you teach me to swordfight like you?”

We see the body, with his own weapons used against him, holding his corpse in place with a hole blasted through his brain. His polka dots he adored are spattered as well, torn where his ribcage was cut open. Brook failed him. He failed them all, in his eyes, not the viewer or actuality. And this breaks my heart.

Update 1.0

Absolutely I think he does have his.. odd crew moments/interactions.

Sanji at the right angle, asking for something and the response is a slip up of “yes, my Captain!” In such a tone that Sanji could mistake himself as more than a crewmate in Brook’s eyes.

Somedays they finds the skeleton speaking to himself, small quolms or questions, asking to an invisible force in silence.

“John, how did you make your coffee again?”

“Madaisuki, how do you do this..?”

Some nights, he’s found over the beds, absent in all human aspects but dead, mute and upsettingly still.

When Usopp asks, after minutes of motionless, creeping anxiety, why does he just stand, why does he watch?

“I want to make sure you’re breathing! It means you’re real.”

[dandelion-blues]

Humans are the Real Monsters

Intro:

Sally died, and Percy was left at the hands of the monster, Gabe Ugliano. Iruma Sukuki was forced to work since he could remember by his lazy parents. What do the two have in common? They were both sold to the demon Sullivan!

PJO x Mairimashita! Iruma-kun crossover

CW: Violence and Gore

Chapter 1, Part 2: A Demon's Grandsons

“You dare harm what is mine!” Sullivan growled at the human, not caring for when his ears started bleeding when the human heard his demonic voice.

The pathetic worm just whimpered. Sullivan snarled in disgust and threw the human hard on the floor outside the small bedroom and into the living room. If it can be called that.

Then, Sullivan blared his magic into the mortal’s head and asked so he would understand, “Why did you beat Perseus?”

The human trembled, piss staining his pants, but still he laced a surprising amount of anger in his tone, “Boy needed to man up! Cause his bitch of a mom wasn’ teachin’ him nothin! So’s I killed her! Sides yous should be thanking me for my service, so yous can torture him better!”

And Sullivan starts laughing loudly and lifts the mortal up, just enough to not cause pain, so the filthy human thinks he’ll be alright.

Then, when the human is standing far below Lord Sullivan’s tall form. Sullivan grabs the human’s arm and breaks it like a twig.

The snap echoes loudly around, but not nearly as loudly as the mortal’s screams.

Sullivan smiles, his sharpy teeth glinting dangerously.

The mortal looks at Sullivan in fear then, and tries to run up, but he trips and falls to the ground while Lord Sullivan casually walks up to the human as he tries to scramble away.

“Now where does my prey think it’s going?”

The human screams as Sullivan grabs his arm once again. The broken arm of course, and Sullivan twists it roughly the socket of the shoulder disconnecting.

And then Sullivan stomps down hardly in the mortal’s right knee, his heel pricing through the flesh and bone.

Oh, and how Sullivan licks his lips with his tongue at that red blood.

The mortal screams and screams, and oh how the demon loves to hear it. Thinking of how his grandson didn’t even have the energy to scream anymore. This worm will pay for ever touching what is his!

And so, Sullivan rips the human’s limbs from his body, first biting his fingers off, and then ripping his arms and legs off. Of course, the demon used his powers to keep the human awake and alive through it all, for it would be too easy for him to just go and die before the torture is down after all.

Then, the demon plucked out one of the human’s needle eyes from his head and swallowed it down whole.

Still, he let the mortal keep one of his eyes so he could watch as Sullivan reached into his chest and could feel as the demon warped his claws around the human’s heart.

The mortal screamed and Sullivan ripped the heart out of his chest, and that worm was no more, and Sullivan chewed the heart.

“So vile and delicious.”

Blood poured more onto his demonic form, from his mouth and seeping down.

Then, Sullivan calmed his wicked phase down. That fiery rage and vengeance and hunger satisfied, and the demon flicked away all the blood and snapped himself a new clean suit.

And now Sullivan let his mana sink back into him and the world once again started to move, and Sullivan hurried over to his youngest grandson and carefully picked him up, frowning at how light the boy was.

The boy didn't even notice, and Sullivan cradled the boy to his chest, subtly using his time powers to stop more blood from pouring from the boy’s wounds.

Sullivan saw the boy's gaze becoming clearer, but it was still foggy, and the boy tried to move and gasped in pain.

Sullivan shushed the boy and used his magic, so the boy would rest. Gently touching the twelve-year old’s head, “It’s alright! I’ll take care of you, my precious grandson.” And the boy went limp in Sullivan’s arms and his eyes fluttered close.

Now Sullivan portals back to the demon realm, his mana already replenishing, so he can fully see the damage that was done and heal him.

He carefully sets his grandson down on his new bed and looks down at the poor boy. The twelve year old with raven hair that was damp with sweat and blood, while bruises and scars littered his tan, but flushed skin.

Opera comes in behind Sullivan, not yet seeing the boy, “I sent Iruma-sama to bed for the night.”

Sullivan hums, and Opera comes up, and their eyes go large in shock as they see Perseus, “What happened?”

Sullivan’s voice drops to a growl, “His stepfather. He already paid for what he did!”

Opera growls back, furious. “Good! Now let me help heal the boy.”

Sullivan nods and the two get to work on healing the boy.

However, as Opera uses a wet cloth to clean the blood off the young master, mana stirs into the air and the bruises on the boy’s begin to fade.

Opera stands stock still, and Sullivan hums, and pours some water gently on the boy watching as it seeps into the boy’s skin and his wounds heal even more.

“It’s as I thought.” Sullivan says to himself.

“Opera, prepare a bath for now. I believe water heals the boy best.” Lord Sullivan states.

Opera bows to their Lord and prepares the bath.

After they are done, Sullivan gently lowers the boy into the lukewarm bath and the boy’s mana reacts and instantly his bruises fade and the boy sighs in relief.

Opera looks questionly at Sullivan’s side once they know the boy isn't’ in any danger.

Sullivan sees this and says, “The boy isn’t human. Or at least not fully. Though don’t speak a word of this Opera.”

Though, that mana…

Sullivan shakes his head, he doesn’t have proof, so he’ll keep that to himself for now.

Opera bows and says, “Yes, Lord Sullivan.”

Sullivan hums and he watches as the boy fully heals, and then brings the boy to his bedroom to rest and dismisses Opera for the night to go and rest as well.

Sullivan sighs when he makes his way to his room. He’s going to have a handful with his two grandsons. His poor traumatized boys. He already loves them to pieces though. And he’ll do anything to keep them safe.

Notes:

Whelp, that was the final part of chapter 1! What do you guys think of this crossover?

First - Next Chapter

[sab3rto0thed]

you meet a boy when you are fourteen and you know he carries the world because it is obvious. it is in his smile, in the even set of his teeth, in the checkers on his shoes, in the futile necklaces he wears and the overpriced smoothies he brings to school and his shitty, endearing haircut. you are fourteen and you do not know many things but you know these things, about people who carry the world.

you know because when you were thirteen you fell in love with a girl who had the world between her teeth, like the way pirates are televised holding knives with their bones. you know because she tells you she was bleeding out in the bathtub a month ago, and you don't know if anyone ever found her or if she just picked herself up and threw the ruined towel away. you don't know but you do know that the world is hers. you know that your world was hers.

so you know this boy and you strive to know everything about him and when he smiles at you, baring his perfect teeth, you hold the sun. you know because when he holds you tight your permanently unsteady world steadies for three seconds and you smell like his cologne all the way home. you know because he always seems to ask why you exist and you always are telling him back, jesus christ, if i knew do you think i would still be alive?

people do this, actually. people always ask why you exist, why your hair is a mess and you resent your too-crooked teeth. it is a grudge, a practice in self-loathing, and your skin is clean but your brain is not and you have a smudge on your forehead that spells out the date you are going to die. it is always tomorrow.

they are always asking and you know their figures perfectly, because you are an artist in many ways. there is a boy with scars all over his arms, and you know exactly how they are slashed because his blood is all over your hands. there is a girl with dark hair and a face that makes expressions the same way her mother does. there is a boy that eats food with you in the backseat of a car and holds your wrists and tells you to call him and never picks up the phone. the list is infinite.

none of them are like the first boy, the one that knew the world. it doesn't matter how much he resents you because you have been a nuisance for the entirety of your small existence and so when you turn fifteen and cry on your back porch in the rain because he is gone, it is just something that happens. it is the grudge. nothing lasts with you.

here is the thing: your whole life, you have been starved of a family. it does not matter how much they push you around and choke you and look at you blankly in astronomy (you have missed two weeks of school, this is on you). it doesn't matter who touches your stomach or pulls you by the back of your head or plays the drums on your knees. you are used to hard work and you will carve a place out for yourself.

you are a terrible god damn artist.

you cut and you carve and you chisel and you spit on your bedroom floor, body split in two so everyone can see the ligaments holding you together. (you wish they would disconnect. the date is tomorrow.) someone ties your belt around your hands and you are a walking exhibition and you are chiseling, this is how you make art, this is how you do things right. you know because of the girl you loved that bled in her bathtub. in order to be like her, you need to suffer for as long as she did.

here is the thing. here is the grudge. you are fifteen and small and so naive, and nobody loves you. nobody has loved you in weeks, and you have stopped counting the dates on your forehead, and you memorize the exact pattern of the wooden hallway because you need to savor every breath. here is what love is: it takes and it takes and it takes and it leaves you sprawled on the concrete with a split lip and a chest full of rocks.

you are never going to be beautiful. you are never going to be resolutely, absolutely correct. you have stopped making art as if you ever started and your skin is as clean as your brain, and it doesn't matter that your hands have blistered from all of those fucking walls you broke through. you are not graceful, and your smile is still crooked despite the fact that your teeth are straight. you are never going to own the world.

here is what love does: it takes and it takes and it takes.

there is blood in the water and you are crying in the backseat. a girl with ginger hair and soft hands will ask if you are okay. in two years she will be a drug addict and her green eyes will sink into her cheeks and you will never speak to her again because you will fuck her boyfriend, and that is how these things go, and she should know that love takes and it takes and it takes. she should have learned, but she didn't have to fight like you did to stay around. everyone always loved her and no one ever took.

the boy with the world cranes around to look at you from the front seat and you are sure he hates you for the exact same reasons you hate him. because he is oblivious, because he is arrogant, because he carves just as hard as you do. desperate people do desperate things, and you are both so fucking desperate.

you tell everyone you hate him, and they all nod. you don't know that they all hate you, too. they don't know that at night, you are still a little hysterical over the boy with the world and the checkered shoes.

eventually they all leave and you are slowly learning not to beg, because you begged them for everything for two years and you are so tired. you are not even desperate anymore. you spend weeks floating on the surface of a pool, blood at the corners of your lips, in the hazy in-between state that determines if you have tomorrow or not. you are the girl in the bathtub now, except you have suffered far longer than her. you always knew your worth, though. you would have done anything for her, but love takes and takes and takes. it takes when it's you.

in these moments it is when you wish there was a world without hope and love and all of the pretty things. you have no driver's license and you will never go anywhere except for this place, and you wish it would just end already. you drag yourself out of the pool and you show your teeth like they taught you and you wait for someone to finish you off.

it never happens.

you meet new people and your determination to be gone makes you reckless. you say mean things and you are brash and impulsive, especially when one day you wake up and you are afraid of losing these people. because you realize, dramatically, frighteningly, you have not had to chisel your way into this. your smile is perfect. your hands are steady.

it is not always like this. you are on a rapid decline always. in march you remember your blades and you never tell a soul. in august you lay in the dirt and look at the stars and eat peach-flavored candy. in may you lose your mind and your best friend drives you home and makes sure you feel safe before you get out of the car. in august a man you love that you haven't seen in a year sees you in the grocery store and hugs you immediately.

people don't do that. they take and they take and they take.

you always tell others that used to be like you that healing isn't linear. and it's not, it's really not. you are eighteen now, and all five feet of you is always fighting, and when your friends come home from college they always check on you first. you can't describe how long you've gritted your teeth, how you used to put your hand over your mouth to silence things.

in june, the boy that used to carry the world sits with you in your best friend's living room. he is so tired and he only has a few countries left in his palms. he used to have the entire atlantic ocean in his smile. you can see the evidence of brutality, the scrapes across his knuckles, the crookedness of his smile. you see the way he shakes a little, slumping into the couch, his dark hair a mess.

you have loved him for so long. when he leaves that night, you curl up with the blanket he was holding and you think: not everyone made it out.

for the first time in your life, you are the lucky one.

in september, you fall in love. october, november, december. it is all a process for you, because after what happened before you don't think you are capable of falling in love still. you have your friends, you have the man always answers the phone when you think you are going to drown this time, you have your coworkers who give you their fondest smile and their tightest hugs. but you don't play this specific game anymore. that's how you get hurt.

you play the game and you do get hurt. for a moment, you are screaming in the car because you refuse to be silent about anything these days. that is how you get stolen from. you are always cleaning up these messes even though you have not talked to these people in years. this boy is broken, because his ex-girlfriend's eyes sunk into her cheeks and her best friend gave too many damns about the way he played the piano. and you know exactly what he means.

it doesn't matter how much he hurt you, actually. in retrospect, it does not. you know because here you are, whole and healthy and breathing. you know because everyone you love loves you. you know because this boy is just like the boy with the world. they are both slumped-over, broken, sad. they were not lucky. not like you.

your hands do not shake anymore. when you are bawling in the car, you always have someone to call. when someone you love has good news, you are one of the first people they tell. when you finish your shift, your coworkers always tell you to be safe. and they mean it. and you love them. and nothing is taken.

this is the grudge. you think of your boys, curled up in their beds, heads between their elbows. you loved them so much and for so long and that is exactly why you have to turn away, because you cannot help someone that left you. your fingers are raw still. you have an emotional stake in the matter.

you will always hold a grudge against the people who hurt them and you will always fight for them to get better. if it comes down to it, you will be the one taking the blows, because you can handle it now. you are not bleeding in the bathtub, you are not crying with a hand over your own mouth, you are not tied down.

this is the grudge. and you love them, you do. but you learned a long time ago that love isn't supposed to take.

you tell your best friend about them, the girl that chose you ten times over no matter how brutal you could be. she turns over, looking at you in the dim light of her bedroom.

"they'll find someone that will make them want to pick up the pieces," she promises.

you think of all of the people who did that for you. you are a very large puzzle, and you are going to be fine, because there are people to hold you together when you are not. you have grown up so much. you haven't touched a blade in nine months.

"i hope so," you tell her. you really, truly do.

[wanderingrain]

Blogging through Till the World Ends Ep 2

Ooh starting off with the guitar scene. We love to see it. Lol

The painting above the bed reminds me of Sean's door from Not Me.

Am I crazy or is this TharnType's apartment from 7 Years of Love?

Why does this college student who needs a scholarship to pay for university have a two bedroom apartment?

Golf is acting so much like a serial killer. Why am I laughing?

Lol he's trying to explain away hitting Art in the back of the head with a guitar hard enough to knock him out and have him bleeding all over the floor. You can't tell me this isn't peak comedy.

Art doesn't remember this is great. This is the only valid amnesia storyline, everyone else go home. I'm telling you this is PEAK comedy.

Golf show him some proof. Surely there's a tv station that just repeats the bunker information over and over

Oh Baby's running away. Ok uhhh interesting idea when he's just told you there's criminals outside.

lol wait bubblegum gang leader girl? Eye patch guy? Gang initiation outside college dorms? This show really isn't taking itself seriously is it? I feel like I'm watching a video game all of a sudden.

Surely they'd still be letting people in the bunker up until the day the moon hits, right? It's not like it's a plague or something in the air and they need to keep infected people out. And is there just one bunker for all of Thailand or is it just the Bangkok area?....You know what, I should be focusing on the actual story.

Oh a Moment. Bi panic. Love to see it.

I was wondering when families were going to come up.

For the most part the subtitles make sense and then they throw out "What kind of soup that got everything inside?" What the heck does that mean? 🤣

Ohh it was a joke it was just worded really strangely.

Take a shower? You just finished rewrapping his head and you're telling him to take a shower?

Wait why does Art keep staring at the medical statue thing with all the organs on display? That's suspicious. That's weird.

Babes why would you call his name like that if you didn't want him to come in? Babes why would you ask him to get you a toothbrush if you didn't want him to come in?

Oh this is definitely TharnType's apartment.

Yes feeding each other.

This is some real himbo energy Golf are you sure you're smart enough to be a doctor?

They're pretty chill for people who think they're gonna die in 9 days.

Nvm here come the tears.

Aww the way Art just melted. Such a cute sad bean.

And they ruined it. Lol

Uhh hey where'd the light go?

New recruit and eyepatch are an established couple? Didn't see that coming. How much you wanna bet new recruit Is somehow Art's little brother even though the timeline doesn't make sense?

Always love when they leave the kiss sounds in. It feels weird when they cut them. Anyone else agree?

Uhh did he just catch a firefly between his fingers? Ok there's fireflies now and they make eyepatch emotional.

Surely you're not thinking about trying to run again Art.

He's trying to run away again. Boy do you want the queer bubblegum gang to kill you?

Honestly I don't know what I'd do in Art's situation either. But I'm not here to take this series too seriously, I'm here to have fun. So I'm not going to think too hard about it. This kind of show is great for binging. To episode 3 we go!

[tumsa]

i didn’t plan to write more but my hand slipped. i blame @snailsweater​ for being so sweet in the tags, and maybe billie eilish a little bit for writing the 'i love you' song that ends me every time i hear it. and tumblr user kinnbig who talks about big and makes my poor little heart ache. my love language is writing random stuff in people's dms (or posts), and i am not even sorry.

- - - "You're an idiot," Chan says because the nurse is too polite to do that. Big's abdomen feels like it's been lit on fire, but the fresh dressing is stark white and sterile, and Big can recount all the things used to clean his wounds and how it happened. He thinks, hopes he can do it for Ken now.

"Sorry," he says because he cannot say, "I tore my stitches while cleaning the staircase so my neighbours don't freak out and call the police."

"What happened?" Chan, of course, asks. He does sound more worried than suspicious. It's the first time they've seen each other since Big got shot, since Big willingly took a bullet in hopes that Tawan could not destroy Kinn's life again. Big looks away before he encounters pity in Chan's gaze.

He doesn't know how to lie to Chan. It feels like lying to Kinn too much. It feels like walking on a tightrope made of razor blades.

"I want more time off," he finally says. It's not untruth, but it's not something Big would ever say. He never asks for anything, never wants anything other than protect Kinn, he expects Chan to shoot him just then and there.

But Chan just looks at him for a long time, then coughs, clears his throat and sounds almost choked up when he says: "You could have just asked, Big. You saved Porsche’s life, Khun Kinn will give you anything you want, kid."

Somehow it feels worse than a bullet for betrayal would have.

- - - Ken is asleep when Big returns. He is pale, almost lifeless, but his chest moves slowly with each inhale and exhale. He looks dead and still might die, Big knows. There might be internal bleeding, blood loss, infection. There might also be a bullet from Kinn or Vegas. Or Big might wrap his hands around Ken's throat and squeeze until there's no life left.

Don't let your emotions distract you from work, Chan would say, so Big unpacks everything and puts it on a plastic tray, on the mattress. He washes his hands with scolding hot water and soap that smells like the hospital and puts on gloves.

He works slowly to ensure he gets things right, and because his stomach still burns, even sitting on the floor next to the mattress feels like it's taking too much strength. One by one, with long pauses in between, Big cleans the gashes, wipes away the dried blood, and removes the makeshift dressing he did earlier from kitchen towels. He stitches up the more extensive wounds, trying to repeat the pattern he saw the nurse doing and mostly failing. They will scar horribly, he thinks before he remembers that Ken probably won't live that long.

He has to stop to drink water and take painkillers for his own wounds. He finds some protein bars that are not expired in a cupboard and eats one of them mindlessly. He starts to cry when putting on a new pair of rubber gloves; when he returns to the bedroom, and Ken still looks like a broken body with no life left in it.

"I hate you," he whispers as he struggles to put on the dressing around Ken's stomach and chest. He is heavy, and lifting him pulls at Big's stitches, and the bandage keeps slipping, and Big would punch him if there was a patch of skin not covered in cuts on Ken's body.

"I hate you so much," he says again, using a damp cloth to clean Ken's face.

"I wish I had never met you," when cleaning the incisions around Ken's cheek and eye.

"I hope you die," through more tears when Ken doesn't wake up and open his good eye.

- - - It's dark outside when Big wakes up. He lets go of Ken's wrist and turns on the small lamp on the floor next to the mattress. He never bought a bed or a nightstand table, and he never will now, not when he might not live until the end of the month.

Ken is awake. He is looking at Big, and his gaze looks hollow. Big gets the water bottle and painkillers he left beside the lamp. Ken takes the pills and lets Big give him water.

"If you want me to leave," Ken starts, and Big laughs. It's a bitter and nasty laugh, and Ken winces. Big is pretty sure Ken could not even get up from the mattress.

"If you pull the stitches," he says, because he spent hours patching Ken together, "I will call Vegas myself."

"As if you have his number," Ken says.

"But you do."

Ken looks away, and Big regrets being mean. He thinks about Kinn, how he got cold and vicious after he shot Tawan years ago, and how Kinn built a wall, leaving Big on the other side. He thinks about how Ken could always find a way to make Big laugh when Kinn scolded him for making mistakes. How Ken kissed him when Kinn wouldn't. How Ken-

"You need rest," he says, trying to sound less sour. They have never been gentle with each other; Big doesn't know how to be soft and kind. But he does know how to protect someone he loves. "Take the other pills, those are for infection. I'll get us some food."

He leaves the bedroom, pretending not to see tears on Ken's face, and closes the door behind him with a soft click. Not for the first time, he wonders how he got here, willing to take a bullet for the person behind the trigger.

Big takes a deep breath, then another. Food first, he thinks, then transport, money, and a safe place next. He will fall apart later when they escape the country, when Ken is safe.

He exhales and gets to work.

*smooches you on the cheek* i hope you have a lovely day!

- - -

"Who is the new guy?" 

Big regrets the question the moment it leaves his dumb mouth because Chan tilts his head and looks at him with knowing eyes. 

"Big," he says, and his voice is stern. His eyes are steely, and Big can feel them unravel everything he is trying to hide away; everything he promised wouldn't be a problem.

A few meters away from them, Kinn laughs so openly and joyously that it stings. 

Chan sighs and turns back to his tablet. Only when Big turns to leave he says: "His name is Tawan."

The way Kinn looks at Tawan makes Big sick. The way Tawan looks at Kinn makes an uneasy feeling crawl into Big's gut. 

- - -

"Who is the new guy?" 

The new guy is sitting at the edge of the pool and grinning. His dark hair is dripping water everywhere as he runs his fingers through them all pretend casual. He winks at Pete, whose record so far has been undefeated, and Big thinks he looks like a certified fuckboy.

"Ken," Arm whispers, quiet enough so Ken cannot hear them. And then, because Arm likes to gossip, he adds: "He's been staring at you all morning."

Big glances up and catches Ken's eyes on him. There is a pink flush on Ken's cheeks as he bites his lip and quickly looks away. 

"Cute," Arm says next to him, and Big bites the inside of his cheek to stop the stupid smile that wants to sneak onto his face. He feels warm. Nobody has ever looked at Big like that.

- - -

"Take the day off," Ken pleads again. He has argued about this all morning, talked about how Big needs a break, how he looks exhausted and how Ken knows he didn't sleep well. "Come on, mate, just today."

Big sighs. "I can't, not with Tawan being here."

"Please," Ken says in English, and it startles Big. Not the English, as Ken constantly swears in it, but the way Ken sounds distressed, the way he looks at Big with wide eyes, and the way his fingers are gripping Big's arm so tightly that there will be bruises. 

"Is everything okay?" Big asks because he knows he is missing something, something important. Ken is shaking as he lets go of Big's arm like it physically pains him to move his fingers, and then he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes, and he looks down before Big can see them.

"Forget about it. It's fine," Ken says, and his voice is raspy. "Just don't do anything stupid because of Tawan."

Big cannot guarantee that, so instead, he says: "I'll see you later tonight."

Later, when Big takes a bullet aimed at Porsche, he wishes he wouldn't have made a promise he couldn't keep.

Later, when Chan says, "Ken was working for Vegas", Big wishes Tawan was a better shooter.

- - -

Big's apartment looks as sad and pathetic as he feels. He doesn't spend time here more than once a month, doesn't share it with anyone, and never bothered to furnish it properly. He sits on the sofa and stares at the empty wall because there's nothing else to do, nowhere else for him to be. He feels hollow, wonders if the doctors put him back together wrong.

"Take a week off," Kinn has said, voice sincere and sad. "You deserve it."

"I should have known," Big had whispered, trying to hold back his tears, and wondered if that's how Tawan's betrayal felt. And then, because he couldn't stop thinking about it, he had said: "He wanted me to take a day off." Kinn had patted his shoulder awkwardly before leaving. 

Big wonders if he can just sleep for a week, if any of the painkillers can do that for him, or if he can get his hands on some sleep medicine or something.

The knock on the door startles him.

He gets up slowly. His stomach still hurts, and so does his arm. He leaves the gun on the coffee table. If anyone wants to kill him, Big thinks, he wouldn't mind. He opens the door.

Ken is bleeding. His face is purple and bruised, and one of his eyes is swollen shut. His shirt is soaked with blood, and it's dripping everywhere. He is trembling.

"I didn't know where else to go," he finally whispers, voice hoarse and broken.

Big feels like he is being shot all over again. He wants to slam the door close, he wants to get the gun he left behind and kill Ken himself. He wants to ask why, he doesn't want to know the answer, but mostly he just wants to pretend that nothing has changed, that everything will be alright. Slowly he moves and opens the door wider. 

"Come in," he says.

anon i am smooching you on the mouth i can’t believe you just dropped this masterpiece anonymously in my ask box i am emotionally devastated. come back pls i’m losing my mind?!

[haikyuu-boys-headcanons]

𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙺𝚈𝚄𝚄 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝚂 - 𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙴𝚇 𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂

hehe, i’m back at it again with one of these long ass posts but this idea’s literally been in my head all day long so here you go !! obvious nsfw warning :)

tw: this whole post is just nsfw and embarrassing to read so read at your own risk >:)

𝙳𝙰𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙸 » during a super intense and loud session, his voice cracked as he asked you “does that feel goOD- good baby?” to this day, he still prays that you couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own moans

𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰 » you were riding him and he went to slap your ass, but something went wrong either because you were riding too quickly or he was shaking too much, boy ended up slapping himself in the balls. you’ve never heard that boy scream that loud in your life

𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙷𝙸 » literally pulled out in the middle of sex to get up and rush to the corner of his room to flip around his childhood teddy bears. your just laying there with your tiddies and coochie out waiting for asahi to shield the eyes of mr. wiggles

𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙰 » you two were having pretty intense shower sex until tanaka did the number one thing your not supposed to do during shower sex; this muthafucker slipped while holding you. long story short, y’all were okay but just ended up having nasty shower floor sex??

𝙽𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙰 » this tiny ass 5′2 man was unconsciously humping your leg while you were both asleep?? his presumably pleasurable wet dream had turned into a sudden nightmare when you literally had to KICK him off you to stop the humping. bad nishinoya, bad!

𝙺𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰 » came WAYYY too early inside you, but he was too embarrassed to say anything so he just... kept going. sadly, no one had warned kageyama of the intense effects of overstimulation. he was shaking and whimpering so badly behind you to the point where you had to ask him to pull out and bring him a glass of water to calm down

𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙰 » the first time you squirted on him, he just blatantly asked you these exact few words that left you feeling mortified: “did you just piss on me?” nuh uh hinata, this water fountain ain’t yours to drown in anymore >:( 

𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » kei was hitting it from the back pretty hard this time, so hard that you were suddenly... on an angle? suddenly, now you two were much closer to the floor than before. the bed ended up collapsing, yes literally collapsing due to kei’s powerful thrusts. worst part is, nobody got to finish since kei dragged you to ikea to grumpily buy a new bedframe. but hey, he bought you ikea meatballs; that shit hits so different

𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙸 » one super duper intense night, he passed out the SECOND he came. no matter how much you flicked the temple of his forehead, yamaguchi was dead asleep. you had to literally slap him awake to get him to clean up, you ain’t risking a ranky stanky UTI puthy in the morning

𝙾𝙸𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 » kept calling himself a sex machine during the act. i don’t know if it was due to the 6 tequila shots he had beforehand or just his inner ego revealing, whatever it was it was about to make your pussy close

𝙸𝚆𝙰𝚉𝚄𝙼𝙸 » this one time, he kept going in at a weird angle which caused you to repeatedly queef for 7 minutes straight. every time you told him to pull out and go in properly, he laughed and kept going in at that one weird angle!! was your embarrassment a turn on for him?? maybe!! but were you mortified? absolutely!!

𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙽 » i’m sorry to have to be the one to announce this, but this man had the worst case of full blown bush you’ve ever seen. like, he didn’t even try to manscape or anything at all. you ended up begging him to trim just a tiny bit because you weren’t gonna risk choking on a pube whilst your going down on him

𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙸 » rubbed your left labia thinking it was your clit. and he kept doing that. the whole. fucking. time. even when you subtly moved his fingers towards your clit, he just kept going back to the left lip.

𝙺𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙸 » had the most dry and dull dirty talk you’ve ever heard. like, it’s not even dirty talk at this point; it’s just clean talk. there’s no passion when he talks! he uses the same tone he would use for anyone else at any other moment. to paint the picture, imagine riding kunimi and he’s just there with a furrowed expression like “yup, that feels really good”

𝙺𝚈𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙸 » tried to pull one of those unexpected anal scenes that he saw from a porno, without telling you beforehand. life lesson here; if you party at shit's house, don't be surprised if shit's at the party

𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙾𝙾 » you two were looking to get a little more kinky in terms of BDSM, so kuroo watched like 30 tutorials on youtube on how to safely tie you up so you won’t fall or anything. this bitch ended up tying rope knots that were practically impossible to undo, which resulted in you hanging from the ceiling for approximately 2 hours pussy-ass naked while kuroo tried to cut you down with a kitchen knife

𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙼𝙰 » wanted to spice things up with some dirty talk, like the real nasty talk they use in pornos but not the normal pornos; the shitty company ones with horrific acting. he really ended up announcing that he was going to “fuck your fucking fanny off, you twat”

𝙻𝙴𝚅 » got super excited while he was opening the lube since he hadn’t gotten to fuck you in a WHILE, which resulted the lube leaked everywhere and a giant 6′5 man slipping and hitting his head on the bed frame. worst part is; he had to go to the ER with a hard on that refused to go away

𝙱𝙾𝙺𝚄𝚃𝙾 » speaking of boners that wouldn’t go away, let’s not forget that one time bokuto took two viagras when you texted him to come over for a special occasion. he horribly misinterpreted the ‘special occasion’ text, because he showed up to your house with a huge buldge in his pants as your parents stand before him holding anniversary cards, completely horrified

𝙰𝙺𝙰𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸 » wanted to make valentines day sex as romantic as he could, so he did the classic lighting candles and giving roses. everything was beautiful, until he accidently knocked one of the bigger candles over during missionary. this not only caused a huge ass fire in your bedroom, but he came right as the fire began to spread. boy was debating on whether his orgasm was to die for or not

𝙺𝙾𝙽𝙾𝙷𝙰 » had a nose bleed when he was going down on you and you both were immediately horrified, you thinking it was your period and him thinking he just ate coochie blood. yet as you went to go clean up, you realized his face had much more blood on it than your coochie did. to this day, he still blames it on your period 

𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙰 » threw you onto the bed and your head went through the wall. he didn’t even bother to ask you if you were okay, he just sighed and went “well, now i have to make a call to the construction guy. excuse me” and he left you and your concussed ass head sit there once again, pussy ass naked

𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙾𝚄 » during a blowjob, he held your head down right as he was coming causing the cum to shoot up your throat and somehow pour out of your nose. by the time he pulled out, he could barely breath from laughing at you. sure, the classic ‘milk shooting out of nose’ thing was funny at first until you got a sinus infection and had to breath out of your mouth for the next three days

𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙸 » always insists having sex in the most inconvenient places?? like he would pull you to side while grocery shopping and start grinding up against you as you pick which brand of cheese would be better??

𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙺𝙸 » he kept getting frustrated that his bangs were clouding his field of vision, so he irritably grabbed a hair tie and frantically tied up the sides of his bangs while he was fucking you. you immediately burst out laughing since he looked exactly like boo from monsters inc. 

𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » got so drunk that he ended up fucking the couch. like he was just there on top of you, and his dick was just sliding between the folds of the leather couch. you decided to let him finish like that

𝚂𝙰𝙺𝚄𝚂𝙰 » had a really bad reaction to one of the products he used while shaving and ended up getting super irritated down there so he kept having to pull out in-between thrusts to itch his crotch. to make things worse, you joking suggested that he looked like he had syphilis and he got so disgusted at the idea of that thought that he literally had to pull out and take a breather 

𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙼𝚄 » drizzled ‘warm’ chocolate down your chest and was about to seductively lick it off until you screamed in pain and horror as the chocolate was literally burning your skin off. osamu panicked, obviously not knowing what to do if chocolate was burning his partners skin off so he just... frantically licked it off. you still had to go to the ER afterwards to get treated for mild burns

𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙼𝚄 » didn’t know what a hymen was until the first time he tried to have sex with you. no matter how much he tried to shove his schlong in, it really just wasn’t working + “yer puss is broken”

𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙰 » pinched your nipples so fucking hard to the point where you started crying. he thoughts these were tears of pleasure until you literally had to kick him off you. but hey, he gave you ice for your sore nipples and mcdonalds! what more could a girl possibly want :)

uh the end lol

also, this idea was inspired by the first haikyuu headcanon i ever read, “awkward sex moments” by @bbytetsu <3

[hanayumi]

Your yandere characters gmfu 😩😩 could I request a yandere Tokyo revengers reacting to their darling being kidnapped by a rival gang? And how they’d freak out and the lengths they’d go to get them back. Can be any character but i can see mikey hanma or Kisaki 🙈 thank you ❤️

thank you for the req nonchan!!! i picked mikey because he’s my fav whehehe

tw yandere, violence/gore, brief suicide mention

something is awfully wrong.

you weren’t waiting at the door like he texted you to two hours ago — that was the first clue. you weren’t in your bedroom getting ready, putting on his favourite lip balm like you said you were two hours ago, either — the second.

everything in the house is intact, silent, abandoned. no matter where he looks you’re gone, and it isn’t like you to leave unannounced. without a quick phone call or a voicemail, or a cute text letting him know that you’d be out — to which he’d reply with a ‘wait for me to get there, babe’. no, tonight something is awfully wrong and the longer the clock ticks by, the more his gut churns with a sickening feeling.

when he gets the phone call he’s only met with his worst fear coming true.

he reels; the line goes dead. before he can scream. before he can yell and demand to know where you are.

a single, monotonous tone bounces off the walls as the phone slips from his grasp and clatters on the floor. his hands are shaking, trembling. a million thoughts whizz through his head and the only thing keeping him standing is his arm slamming onto the table. his vision wobbles and morphs into incoherent shapes. the ground feels like a blackhole sucking him in.

how could this fucking happen?

how could he let this happen? why you of all people? where the fuck have they taken you? his girlfriend? his soulmate? his future? are you safe? alive? hurt?

dead?

the worst-case scenario starts to materialise in his brain, playing over and over again like a broken film — vivid scenes of your body bruised and bleeding out somewhere, alone, flood the forefront of his mind, and immediately after the shock wears off an indescribable panic creeps up on him. he never once thought of himself as a weak person, but those few seconds after hearing that you were abducted were enough for him to crumble into a heap of helplessness. what is he without you? without your kisses and your voice and your reassurances? nothing. he is fucking nothing and he’ll be damned if he let them get away with this.

everything feels like white noise at this point, a hazy blur as his fingers scramble to dial numbers, and he briefly contemplates shooting himself if something were to happen to you — if he didn’t make it in time. it doesn’t cross his mind that whoever doing this would benefit much more if you were taken as a live hostage, because, fuck, he isn’t taking any chances. he’s lost so many already, and you mean the fucking world to him, the world and the universe and then some — he can’t lose you too. he’ll die. he just can’t. he can’t he can’t he can’t

— and he won’t. he’ll find you.

he’ll find you even if it means he has to follow them to the fiery depths of hell. his eyes are blazing now. he’s pissed. there’s an anger he hasn’t felt in so long boiling in the pit of his bones. he thinks of your smile, the one you flashed him when you cuddled up to his side the other night, and already he misses you to death. and it only makes him want to maim those fuckers to a pulp for tearing you from him.

it takes a few calls here and there and the wait is agonising, and he’s had to stop himself from rushing in a few times for the sake of ensuring your safety, but eventually he does find you. shaking and tied up to a chair, but unhurt — and so he breathes an inward sigh of relief. and it’s not some big shot gang either. just some lowlife thugs who thought it’d be funny to mess with sano manjiro’s girl. they get what’s coming to them pretty quick; bunch of broken bones that’ll get piled into body bags by the morning. and a little extra for their leader because the guy had the nerve to call him weak for a ‘simple whore’. witnesses will only make the cleanup a hassle; mikey doesn’t leave anything unfinished.

if it’s for you, god, he’ll gladly become a murderer.

but as he frees you from the ropes, voice cracking when he tells you that you’re safe and he’s here to save you and no one will ever hurt you again (he’ll make sure of it), he’s scooping your form in his arms and holding you so tight that it hurts, tearing up and it’s almost like he was the kidnapped one. you watch as he falls apart, breath hitching in a half-sob, and he starts flooding you with a barrage of questions — are you hurt anywhere? what did they do to you? god, i was so fucking worried. should’ve stayed with you longer. i’m so sorry. should’ve made you come with me, god, i’m so fucking sorry —

he doesn’t let you out of his sight anymore after that. for a while he bristles and snarls at anyone getting close to you like he’s scared they’ll take you away, and you’re glad because the whole incident had you shaken up too. but sometimes you’ll catch him hiding the keys when you try to go out. when you confront him about it he gives some half-assed excuse, apologises, but it never feels genuine, as if he never means it — as if he wants to have you trapped in the house forever. (because he does. he wants to lock you up forever and throw away the key so no one will look at you ever again.)

any little time you have when he’s not breathing down your neck is promptly taken up by the few people he trusts to protect you. he’s tasted pure, unadulterated fear once and doesn’t intend on tasting it again. it was a slip-up, a momentary slip-up — he left you alone for a second and look what’s happened. like hell he’s gonna let the same thing happen again. if you want something, he’ll get it for you. just stay at home and wait for him, please, please just listen to him. it’s safer that way.

[rainyearning]

okajibana​:

Raphael gives a playful roll of his eyes, amused. Kaidan did have a point there. Perhaps he should habe been more specific and said that applied to social etiquette, he shouldn’t barge in. But he concedes with a little sigh of defeat.

“Alright, alright. I aologize for bursting in out of concern for your well-being. I promise that the next dire situation you find yourself in, Heaven forbid, I’ll knock first.”

Ruffling Kaidan’s feather, so to speak, is a good way to gauge that he is fine. If he is in good enough health to be snippy, then Raphael has little to be concerned about. The drops of blood on the floor as Kaidan extends his hand expectantly draw his attention instead. The stare the other gives him is taken in stride.

“I certainly did come here to hep you and I would love a cup of tea if you have any. No begging necessary, however. What I want you to do is simply be more polite about asking for and receiving help.” The angel gives him a pointed look, internally screaming at a kitchen towel being wrapped around an open wound. Oh, the bacteria.

“Humans call for my hel via prayer, but all I request from you is more gentleness about me 'doing my thing.’ Rudeness is one of my pet peeves.” He steps aside as he sees the other’s intention to pass him. Kaidan is proud and strong-willed as he should be, but so is he. Raphael is firm when the situation calls for it. To prove how serious he is, his face goes blank and he folds his arms behind his back as he watches Kaidan’s leave the kitchen. A rush of wind tears backward through the apartment, roughly and loudly slamming the bathroom door and holding it shut before the other could walk through it. Another door slams shut for good measure, the one to Kaidan’s bedroom.

“Kaidan,” Raphael warns. “Could you please be more polite to me so that I can help you? I did not come to fight with you.”

Kaidan could only glare at Raphael, he didn’t need to go for that little dig. “You will know if the situation calls for bursting through my door or not.. besides, it’s never that urgent with me. We know by now that I am not lucky enough to die.” His dark eyes quickly focus back on his hand because he knows that his glaring wasn’t going to change a damn thing. The angel for sure was as stubborn as he was himself. “Right now I don’t have any cup of tea, no.” He tried his best to not let out a frustrated groan, still he rolled his eyes shortly. “Okay, let me get that right. You burst into my apartment to help me but you refuse to help me until I actually ask for help?” Why was Raphael such an exhausting person to deal with? “I’m not going to pray.” So did Raphael need this for his own ego? Having Kaidan beg for his help? Why did he need to actually ask for help? The loud noise of his doors falling shut had Kaidan freeze in his movement, frowning while his free hand reached out for his door. “Cut that bullshit!” He called out, once more tugging at the door, before adjusting the towel around his bleeding hand, giving the door a frustrated kick. “Oh you definitely came to fight because I don’t see you helping anyone.” He is back in the kitchen quickly. “Does this turn you on? Do you need this to feel better about yourself? You come here to make me ask��about getting helped and actually keep me from helping myself?” He’s annoyed and with having Raphael play his little power game with him, he feels even less like asking for it. He was behaving like a brat, that for sure, but then, Raph was just really getting on his nerves. Kaidan was using his teeth and free hand to wrap that towel tighter around his hand, actually tying a knot so it would stay in place. He then returned to the cutting board so he could clean the knife and get back to cutting his vegetables... though it would be hard to do that with his hurt hand. “This is ridiculous.” He mumbled to himself, wiping the wet knife against the kitchen towel on his hand. “So you see people in need of help and make them ask for it too?” He’s actually doing more cutting. A tomato, half of a cucumber. It’s when he ends up dripping blood into his salad that Kaidan just lets out the loudest groan before throwing the prepared vegetables into the sink. “Could you do your stupid thing?” His gaze shoots over to Raphael quickly, lifting his wrapped up hand with the bloody towel. “Please?” It sounds less like a question, almost like an insult.

[willowfolksong]

a better man

- Fushiguro Toji x Reader

- NSFW (minors dni)

🐺 You meet him in bar downtown, in one of those nights when you really don't care anymore. You're just there to vibe, and probably feel something else other than complete and utter loneliness.

🐺 He's charming in a not even trying way. His easy smile convinces you of accepting a drink from him, and then another one, and before you realize he's so close you can smell his cologne.

🐺 You're surprised about him offering to walk you back to your place, instead of inviting you to his home. When you tell him, leaning on his shoulder as you try to walk straight, he shrugs and licks the shell of your ear. That should have been what told you that he would never answer your questions.

🐺 That night, he bends you over the kitchen counter and eats you out like a starving man, tongue laping fervently and fingers always dancing around your clit but never touching, until your knuckles turn white from holding to tight and you have to scream at him to let you come because you think you'll die.

🐺 He does, chuckling— the sound reverberating in between your tights, and then holds your hips with one of his big hands while he brings himself to climax with the other one, spilling his seed in your ass. When you ask him if he doesn't wants to be inside you, he argues that he will only do that when you're not totally drunk, and are actually aware of what he'll do to you.

🐺 You text and call all the time from then on. He's smart and has a quick and sarcastic tongue, and can make you come like no one else before him could. A month after meeting him, you're sure there's not a single surface on your little one bedroom appartment where he hasn't fucked you silly.

🐺 And yet, there's nothing you know about him, more than he has a complicated job and almost no time to relax. A complicated job, that at the same time he doesn't seems to take that much seriously.

🐺 Around your second month together, you don't know how to call what you two have. So you ask him.

🐺 As an answer, he flips you over and fucks you in the ass for the first time, a constant string of dirty talk in your ear the only way thing he has to say to you.

🐺 When you struggle to pay rent, he convinces you to move to a place he found for you. It's a bad idea, and you know it. You don't even know if the appartment is his, or someone else's, but it's nice and you don't have to pay— so you can use all your money for getting yourself through college.

🐺 Your favorite moments by his side are the ones that you spend in the afterglow, when it seems like he's not entirely satisfied yet, but is too lazy to do anything else— and so his fingers trace every part of your body, making your skin. He twirls a nipple, maybe even indulges you and slowly circles your clit until you're mewling against him, rubbing your ass on his cock. He always chuckles— and it's borderline cruel: a nip in your ear, his tongue tracing a path between your neck and your shoulder, one of his hands maybe griping your hair. Those are the only small mercies he gives you.

🐺 A year passes, and when you suddenly realize you see him as more than just someone to fuck, things start getting complicated between the two of you. He still refuses to answer any questions about him — about the two of you— and instead starts coming to you with blood on his clothes and new scars lithering his body.

🐺 You're scared, and finally snap one day when he knocks on your door in the middle of the night, bleeding.

🐺 The next day, you go out on a day with a nice guy from your work. You need to get away from Fushiguro Toji and find some peace of mind.

🐺 He's waiting for you back in the apartment, angry as you've never seen him before. He uses a knife he found on the table to slice your panties and take you on the floor, without leaving you anytime to process what's happening.

"You're mine, do you understand?" he whispers in your ear in between thrusts.

You moan, loudly, and he spanks your ass and soothes over the burning skin, hissing when you squeeze around him.

🐺 Even tho you press on that night, for something— anything he can give you of himself, he still stays quiet, and leaves when the morning light shines through the window.

🐺 You take all your stuff— and the only shirt he ever left behind, and go stay at one of your friend's house, leaving the place he found for you for good.

🐺 You wish Fushiguro Toji was a better man, but in reality, you don't think you've ever even known him.

🧣 RED Love Story Collection

Part VIII- Next is Run

[seita]

— reacting to your death.

includes: oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, hanamaki, + kyoutani.

+ this is childhood friend!reader.

tw: major character death, grieving, blood and violence mention.

p a r t o n e ;;

⤿ part two: next (coming soon!)

-ˋˏ seijoh ˎˊ-

— tooru oikawa.

to tooru, the best course of action is to ignore it.

ignore the hurt, ignore the pain.

ignore the news completely.

in his mind, you’re just on vacation. or maybe you’re mad at him and ignoring him. you’ll come back.

he makes up scenarios and reasons in his head for why you’re not around. iwaizumi is angry, always yelling at him for being an idiot when he brings you up. but he doesn’t understand why.

he won’t talk about it. he doesn’t even acknowledge you’re gone until the funeral.

+

his hands are clasped in front of himself. the suit is uncomfortable and he doesn’t want to approach the casket. iwaizumi stands beside him, a sharp scowl plastered on his face.

“are you finally ready to face it?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet so the grieving people around them aren’t disturbed.

oikawa huffs out a laugh but it’s shaky -- watery. he’s trying so hard not to cry that it’s making his throat close up painfully. iwaizumi relaxes beside him with a sigh, his shoulders sagging before placing his hand on the taller’s shoulder.

“she wouldn’t want you to ignore it, shittykawa,” oikawa wants to laugh at his friend using that name even in the current situation.

typical iwaizumi.

always a pillar. always trying to be the strong one.

suddenly, oikawa finds himself wondering what your place in their little dynamic was. it feels like he can’t even remember you properly. it’d only been a few days since they lost you and it already feels like he’s...

“i don’t want to forget her,” oikawa suddenly chokes out, unable to stop his tears from falling finally.

“well then don’t dumbass,” iwaizumi’s voice was breaking, choked as he cried but oikawa didn’t want to look because he didn’t want to see his other friend falling apart as well.

— hajime iwaizumi.

he does not have good coping methods. his first and most immediately reaction is denial. he doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing, so he just...doesn’t.

he assumes everyone is lying to him. there’s no way he could lose you. you’d been his friend since you were children; it’d always been you, iwa, and oikawa. so how could you possibly just be...gone?

the answer? you couldn’t.

that’s what he chose to believe, anyway.

+

“what are you talking about, shittykawa?” he snaps, refusing to pull his nose from his notes, “i think this has to be your worst joke yet.”

“it’s not a joke,” oikawa sighs, shuffling on his feet as he sniffles. if iwa chanced a look up at him, he’d see his friend had been crying for hours. but he wouldn’t look. because he didn’t want to see it, “her mom tried calling you...couldn’t get a hold of you. so i thought i’d...”

iwa slammed his notebook down, glaring straight ahead, “i told you to stop playing these stupid fucking jokes on me. it’s not funny.”

“iwa-”

“get the fuck out,” iwa jumped to his feet, grabbing the other brunette by the shirt.

the fabric creaked as it stretched. but oikawa didn’t put up a fight, letting iwaizumi toss him out of his bedroom door. he hit the floor with a thud before wincing at the deafening slam of the bedroom door.

iwaizumi sit back down, pulling up your text message. he had never answered your text asking if he would be alright studying on his own today. he had meant to answer but just forgot. his thumbs moved across the keyboard, eyes blurring with tears as he typed.

“come over. we can hang out together, okay?”

— issei matsukawa.

he was the first to admit that he wasn’t the best friend to have. he was sort of ghosty and a bit unreliable. he doesn’t mean to be. you knew that. he knew you did.

so there’s no way you would be upset with him, right? not for what he did.

he lets his own guilt eat him alive. even if everyone on earth told him it wasn’t hit fault -- he still puts every ounce of blame upon himself.

he lets it eat him alive. he thinks he deserves it.

because he let you down.

+

he stared at his phone. sometimes he could clearly see what he was looking at and other times it felt like he blacked out.

it was your text thread.

it wasn’t unusual for him to ghost you. he was never very talkative. you liked to tease him about it from time to time.

still, looking back, he could have at least responded this one time.

he doesn’t even remember what he was doing. probably nothing as important as it felt at the time.

“can you come pick me up?” it was a simple question. he hadn’t even bothered to ask where you were. if he had, he would have known you were only 10 minutes by car. it would have taken no time at all to stop what he was doing and go get you.

he wonders how long you had stared at his read receipt, wondering if he was going to come. he’ll never know.

he’ll never know the answer to why you were out so late. why you needed him to pick you up. how you felt in your last moments. he wondered if you thought of him then. if you blamed him. if you were sad or hurt by his ignoring you.

why didn’t he just go get you? why didn’t he answer you?

if he had, you would still be safe.

he wishes he could talk to you again. tell you that he was sorry. he didn’t know how important it was. he didn’t know you were scared -- that you weren’t safe.

he wanted to apologize, tell you that whatever stupid shit he was doing was nowhere near as important as you were.

he wanted to know if you had thought about him in your last moments -- the one person you had reached out to for help.

only for him to fail you.

he just wishes you knew that he didn’t mean to let you die.

— takahiro hanamaki.

it’s gotta be a joke, right?

ha-ha really funny. come out now.

when you don’t he’s confused. this really isn’t funny.

you can’t be gone. you can’t. because he needs you.

who else is going to help him during exams. or laugh at his terrible jokes. or make him feel better when he has his heart broken. what about when he’s sick? who will make him that amazing soup that always has him better in a day?

he refuses to let you go. he can’t be without you. it’s just not realistic.

so just...come out of wherever you’re hiding now, okay?

+

he tries to force the smile to remain in place as he stares at the unfamiliar faces in front of him.

“what um...what do you mean?” he laughs nervously, placing his hand to rub nervously on the back of his neck.

they repeat the news. it goes in one ear and out the other. he laughs, ignoring the confused look on their faces.

he takes a few steps back, shaking his head.

“that’s a...real funny joke. i’m just gonna...” he feels tears stinging at his eyes but he doesn’t know why. it’s obviously just a joke. he doesn’t want to be that dork who cries over a practical joke, “go call her now.”

they don’t try to call him back, pity on their faces as he slumps away, phone in hand as he dials your number. he’s pretty sure he’s far enough away when he starts crying at the sound of your voicemail.

— kentarou kyotani.

kyoutani copes violently. if there is one thing he doesn’t like, it’s change. and there’s no bigger change than losing someone you’ve known your entire life.

he didn’t have many friends -- really you were the only one he was comfortable actually giving that title. so without you, he had no one. he refused to let you go.

anger builds and builds.

and without you there to mellow him out like you usually do...it explodes.

+

there’s a fist sized dent in the wall. or maybe 4.  his knuckles are busted open and bleeding but he doesn’t feel the pain. his shoulders are heaving but even after lashing out he doesn’t feel better.

what is he supposed to do?

usually he calls you.

usually you come waltzing into his bedroom with a frown, ‘kenta, you can’t do that!’ you’d scold him. but you wouldn’t.

he knew you wouldn’t.

but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

god, he wanted you to walk in so bad. even if you didn’t knock. sometimes he would get so mad at you for that. but right now, he would give anything to hear his bedroom door fly open.

he held his fist close to his chest, squeezing his eyes closed to keep himself from crying. he never cried. he didn’t want to start now. he clenched his jaw together aimed his fist at the wall again, a large cracking noise coming from the plaster as if caved under the pressure.

then, almost as if it were out of his best dreams, the door clicked open. he whirled around with wide eyes, hope sparkling within them.

only to find the troubled face of tsukishima there instead of you.

kyoutani finally allowed himself to cry.

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

Whumpay Day 19: "I didn't want you to worry".

sequel to Day 8 | post-Zero Sum, pre-Small Potatoes | @today-in-fic @whumpay2022

"Really, Scully," he says, not ungently, as he shuts the door to her apartment. He has one arm around her waist, steadying her, and she can't even fight him on it. Her head is still throbbing and the dizziness hasn't abated. The only consolation is that her nose isn't bleeding, and that Mulder is here. She has the sudden realization that she's afraid.

She could die here in her apartment, all alone, and how long would it be before someone realized? Until she didn't come into work? Until her mother called and the answering machine was too full to pick up? Until Mulder stopped by for no good reason the way he does and found her limp, pale body lying on the floor? The thought makes her shudder and catch her breath, because she knows the last option is the most likely and that Mulder would never recover from that. His face when he saw her passed out in their office was terrified enough, she can't imagine how much it would break him to find her dead.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mulder continues, then pauses. "Couch or bed?" He asks softly.

"Bed," she murmurs, then steps uncertainly out of his grasp. "I'm going to... go change, okay?" The prescription painkillers her doctor had given her are in her bathroom cabinet. She doesn't want Mulder to see the dosage and realize how bad this is getting; though, at this point, hiding it is in vain. Mulder nods, looking a little hesitant, as she retreats into her bedroom.

She doesn't shut the door all the way, suddenly too irrationally frightened of being alone to do so. The bottle of meds rattles in her hand and she swallows two pills dry, ignoring the fact that her hands are shaking the way they are. She makes a point not to look in the mirror for too long as she slips into dark-colored pajamas. She knows what she'll see if she does: a pale, thin face and circles under her eyes, limp hair and lips that can barely smile without cracking anymore.

When she wipes off her makeup, she meets her own eyes in her reflection for the first time. She hadn't realized until now how much she's squinting against the pain the light sends shooting through her head, hadn't seen the pain lines etched around her eyes. Her freckles, uncovered by makeup, stand out against how sickly pale her skin is. She looks away before she can think too hard about how many corpses she's seen wearing the same pallor she has now. Focusing her eyes too much makes her dizzy again, so she slowly, carefully leaves the bathroom and moves to sit on her bed.

She's sitting with her face in her hands, head pounding, waiting for the meds to take affect, when Mulder taps lightly at the door. She doesn't look up at him for fear of the movement sending another spike of pain through her skull. She thinks of Gerry Schnauz and his icepick; that would have hurt less than this, both physically and without the knowledge that it's just a harbinger of her death.

"Scully, you okay?" Mulder calls, and all she can manage is a weak hum. Her head feels foggy, but she's not sure if it's from her sickness or from the painkillers kicking in. Mulder approaches, hesitantly puts a hand on her upper back. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I didn't want to worry you," she whispers, a belated reply to his earlier questioning. "That's why I didn't tell you how bad it is." She doesn't look up or open her eyes, but she drops her hands from her face and reaches toward him. He takes her hand as soon as her fingers brush his.

"Oh, Scully," he breathes, so gently it hurts. She feels her breath catch in her throat again and wishes she were healthy. If she was, if she could say anything without destroying the both of them, she would tell Mulder she loves him. She thinks — she hopes — that he feels the same; the way he is with her, as much as she hates being weak like this, makes her feel more cared for than she can explain.

"It's okay, Mulder. It's par for the course for this type of cancer," she tells him again, like that fact makes it any better for either of them. "It's okay."

"No you're not," he replies, his voice raw. He sounds like he's trying not to cry. "Scully, it's not okay."

Finally, she opens her eyes again to look at him and tears spring into them. The fear in her chest is stronger than the pain in her head, now. "I know," she whispers, and with that admission, Mulder moves forward and pulls her into his arms. She lets him, wishing that hiding herself against his body could truly protect her.

For now, though, the pain is easing and for the first time in days, she feels warm, and she starts to feel safe.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it. 

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them. 

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 5.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 5 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

a/n: So this is it, the last part of this series! Thank you for your loving words and support my babies, I love all of you!!!

You woke up with a smile on your face. 

You felt Bucky’s cold face pressed against yours, his lips kissing along your jaw. “Morning, sweetheart.” He mumbled. 

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring into bright blue ones. “Hi.” You whispered. You noticed he was dressed and ready for the day already. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He said with a smirk. You gently caressed his face, not wanting to leave the warm bed just yet. 

“What surprise?” You asked, knowing he wouldn’t tell you obviously but trying your luck anyways. 

“Get dressed. It’s waiting for you downstairs in the kitchen.” He winked at you, making you think harder on what the surprise could be. He kissed the top of your head and walked out of the bedroom with a devious smirk on his face. 

You got ready as fast as you could and stepped out of the room. You saw Wanda at the end of the stairs and when she smiled at you, you couldn’t help but rush to her and give her a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.” 

She ran her hand soothingly down your back. “I knew you wouldn’t. But you’re back now, and that’s all that matters.” She gave you a warm smile. “Now go, they’re waiting.” 

You smiled and walked towards the kitchen, thinking back on what she said. They’re waiting… who was ‘they’? 

As you approached the kitchen you could hear multiple voices, you slowed down just to hear a little more of the conversation they were having. You picked up multiple voices; some speaking over others, some silly banters, some trying to calm them down, Bucky and other voices speaking in hushed tones.  

“I can hear her.” 

“I can hear her heartbeats.” 

“She always smells so good, doesn’t she?” 

“Have you spoken about turning her yet?”

To that question Bucky responded, “Yeah, we’ve talked about it. But I want to give it some time.” 

“Does she remember us?” 

“Did you hear a word he said? Yes, she remembers all of us.” 

“Uh guys, can we eat please?” 

“Pete we’ve waited over a century, can’t you wait a little longer?” 

“No the kid’s right, I’m getting hungry.” 

“What are you talking about, you ate on our way here?” 

“So?” 

“Guys, shut up.” 

“Tell me, was she irritated by my little trick?” 

Bucky responded again, chuckling “No, she understood it was important.” 

“Did she-,”

Whoever was about to say something, stopped at once when you stepped into the room. You could hear your heartbeats ringing in your ear. Before you, gathered in the spacious kitchen, were all your friends. You felt your heart getting heavy as you tried to process everything. 

“Hi.” You couldn’t say anything else, your voice was getting shaky. Your lips started quivering as you began tearing up. Your friends, the family who had your back no matter what, they were here. You were all here, under the same roof. 

One moment they were all staring at you in shock and the next you were being almost tackled to the ground as the result of a gigantic group hug. You held onto a broad shoulder to prevent yourself from falling, lifting your head up you saw that it was Thor. 

“Hello, Y/N.” his deep voice greeted you, teasing you of course. 

A rather extensive round of hi, hellos and ‘we missed you’ later, you heard Bucky’s voice speak up. “Try not to crush my wife.” 

You heard a collective round of sighs. “She’s not your wife yet.” Tony pointed out and at the sound of his voice, you rushed to him for another, proper hug. After your family cut ties with you, Tony was the closest thing you had to a father figure you had. “Hey kiddo, I’ve missed you.” 

You felt his cold arms around you. “I’m so glad you’re here.” You pulled away and his brown eyes reminded you of all the times he was there for you even when your own father wasn’t. 

“I believe I need a hug as well.” A smooth, very familiar voice spoke up from behind you. You turned around and smiled bigger than you had all morning. 

“Steve!” You jumped in his arms. 

Hug after hug, multiple ‘we missed you’ and ‘don’t you dare leave us again’ later, everyone gathered around the table. It was one of the best mornings you’ve ever had, now finally reunited with those who meant so much to you. 

While most of your friends were busy having a silly banter over something like they always do, you looked up and smiled at Bucky who sat on the other side of the large kitchen island. He smiled at you, staring deep into your eyes. He knew what you meant. 

You tried to eat but there was this lump in your throat, as happy as you were; you were also an emotional mess. In a good way. You were used to your life being this perfect, but here you were. 

For the rest of the morning, you all caught up with one another. Your friends told you about all the new members who had joined your inner circle, promising you that you’ll meet them soon enough. 

“We’ll be around. We’ll always be just one call away.” Tony spoke on behalf of everyone as they all stood at the front door, putting their coats back on; getting ready to leave. “We’ll visit again. Soon, okay?” he opened his arms and you rushed over to him and hugged him tight. 

When they all left, the house was quiet again. You closed the large wooden front door and stared at it, with a soft smile on your face. You felt warm inside. You felt surrounded, safe and complete. 

You turned around and Bucky was standing at the foyer, hands stretched out for you to take. You approached him and leaned in for a hug. He hugged you immediately, tightly. “You okay, baby?” 

“Yeah,” you replied, your eyes watering just a little. “I’ve missed them. So much. I missed everything, I-,” you choked on your words as the tears fell down your cheeks. “How did you do it? I wouldn’t have survived so long without you.” you held him tighter, your hot tears wetting his cold skin. 

“Hope. And your memories kept me alive I guess. Still, I died everyday. But I knew you’d come back again, someday like you promised.” He gently stroked your hair. “And you did, that’s all that matters.” 

You stayed like that for a while, just letting him hold you. After some time you spoke up again, “Thank you, Buck.” 

“What for, sweetheart?” 

“For bringing me home.” 

---

2 YEARS LATER. 

---

You put your book down on your lap as you leaned against the headboard of the bed. You looked over to find Bucky fully focused on his newspaper; sat on the couch by the bed. 

“You’re staring.” He said without looking up. 

You chuckled and walked over to where he was sitting. You snatched the paper out of his hands and settled down on his lap instead. He smiled, spreading his legs apart slightly just so you’d be more comfortable. 

“Turn me.” you whispered and watched how he went from playful to serious in less than a second. He was hesitant, you could tell. In the past years, you brought up this topic quite a lot of times and each time his answer would be the same - ‘no, not now.’ 

He opened his mouth to talk, but then shut it because he couldn’t figure out the right thing to say. 

“I spoke to Nat a few days ago, she’s willing to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. Buck, I understand, it’s okay I-,”

He cut you off. “No, I’ll do it. Just…” he sighed. “I’ve held your lifeless body once. It killed me.” He closed his eyes and pushed his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to watch you die again.” 

You cradled his face, giving him a kiss on top of his head. “It’s not the same Buck.” He groaned upon hearing that. “Hey, look at me,” you said softly, pulling away to look down into his ocean blue eyes. “I’m not going anywhere this time. I’ll be here, forever.” 

It took a moment, but he finally said, “Okay.” 

“So it’s a yes?” 

“Yes.” 

You smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. But he wasn’t planning on letting you go, Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you senselessly, deeply, passionately for God knows how long, but you could feel your underwear getting completely soaked.

“Buck…” you pulled away for a moment, wondering if he was trying to avoid doing what you asked him to. 

He gave you a soft look, “I need to hear your heart race when you cum for me. One last time. Please?” He mumbled against your skin as he kissed along your jaw. 

You giggled and gave in, inching closer to him again while your lips found his. He kissed you softly, his kiss slowly getting more and more needy. You found yourself being pushed down onto the couch with him hovering above you. Your clothes were off your body and carelessly thrown onto the bedroom floor in less than a few seconds. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, “so much.” His hands ran down your thighs and reached your knees. His eyes remained focused on your face as he parted your legs, settling in between them. His hand ran down your legs and your skin felt tingly at his touch. His hand reached out and he ran his knuckles along your wet folds, making you shudder at his touch. 

His eyes grew darker as he watched your squirm under him as he lazily played with your clit. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, eagerly. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goosebumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

Pulling away from the kiss, he stood up again and took his shirt off, and his pants; leaving him just as naked as you were. He climbed onto the couch again and lowered his body until he hovered just inches above you. His strong arms supported him above you and your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders.

He looked into your eyes for a brief moment then his head dipped into the crook of your neck, biting your skin playfully and making you squirm and giggle under him as you felt his sharp fangs grazing your skin lightly. 

You felt his body pressed down against yours, and everything was right in the world. “You drive me crazy…” The tip of his nose ran along your throat and right to your ear, where he whispered all his obscene thoughts, making you all hot and bothered.

“Fuck me, please...” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair and he lifted his head and stared into your eyes again. He saw the desire and lust, but also the love. The love which had transcended through time and found its way back to him again. 

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him, his stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your lips repeatedly. You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. “Let me hear you, baby” he whispered into your ear and kissed the skin beneath your jaw. 

You let out a loud moan as he found your sweet spot, and you felt him smirk against your skin. You moaned again and again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Your nails sank into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the bedroom. 

The tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his. “Fuck…” his voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. His moans always messed you up in a good way.

You feel your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Come on,” he panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. 

He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard. You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core.

Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping even for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and wished for this moment to last forever. Unable to form coherent sentences, you moaned as you felt your second release approaching. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his. 

You felt your mind clouding with lust again. He gently bit down on your shoulder as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded into you. 

He pushed his face into your neck as he came right after, moaning and panting as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed along your throat, making you giggle uncontrollably. 

“Hey, you promised me something.” You reminded him. 

He sighed and got up from the couch, grabbing his clothes and putting them on again. “Wait here, I need to go get something. I’ll be back in a bit.” He kissed your forehead and walked out of the room. 

You showered in the meantime, wondering what could he possibly need. When you walked out, you found him pacing around. 

“Hi,” you walked over and wrapped your arms around his torso. He relaxed once he felt your touch. “Where did you go?” 

Instead of answering he handed you a little vial of some sort, with a dark liquid inside. “Drink up.” 

“What’s this?” you questioned, taking it from him.

“It'll make you a little drowsy. You won't feel the pain,” he gently caressed your face. “And when you wake up, everything will be fine.” 

You nodded. Taking a deep breath as you emptied the vial into your mouth. You cringed as you swallowed. “It's bitter.” You pointed out. 

Bucky smiled softly, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, letting his lips linger on your skin. “I know baby.” He mumbled. 

You stayed there, in his arms and noticed that your vision started getting blurry. You held on to him tighter. Your heart began slowing down as well, he could hear it. You felt his lips along your jaw, kissing you gently as though coaxing you into something. He kissed down your throat, and you felt his fangs against your neck. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” He mumbled, nipping at your skin gently; still a little hesitant. 

You got a little nervous. He noticed as your grip tightened around him. “Buck, I…” 

“Shh, don't fight it.” he mumbled against your skin. He kissed his way back up to your lips again. “Let go baby, I'm right here.” he whispered against your lips. 

And that was that last thing you remember before everything went black. 

-

You woke up feeling different. A good kind of different. You felt energized, well-rested. You blinked a few times and took a few seconds to reorient yourself. You were in your bedroom, the one you and Bucky had shared over the past years. 

You sat up and noticed that you were hyper aware of your surroundings. The light was too bright. The birds chirping outside were loud, you could hear the winds bristle against the branches. You immediately felt your pulse. You had none.

Oh. 

You heard footsteps. Moments later Bucky opened the door. He walked into the room with a lovely smile on his face. "Hello sweetheart. Welcome back."

Just the sight of him filled you with unexplainable joy. You jumped out of bed and rushed to hug him. “Bucky!” in doing so, you knocked the two of you down on the floor. 

He laughed and held on to you, "I forgot how strong newbies were." He kissed the top of your head, “Hi, baby.” 

You straddled his waist, pulling away from the hug to kiss him. “I've missed you.” you whispered. You figured you must’ve been gone for a day or two. 

“I've missed you too.” He replied, kissing you back. 

You got back up and pulled him up as well. “We have to tell Nat! And everyone, they-,” 

He cut you off, chuckling as he ran his fingers through your hair. “Don't rush sweetheart, we have all the time in the world now.” 

You slowed down, realizing he was right. “Yes we do.” You leaned in for a hug, just wanting to be close to him. He wrapped his arms around you, swaying the two of you gently. 

“Can you promise me one thing?” he asked. 

“What?” 

“That you won’t leave me alone for so long again.”

You sighed, trying to imagine how hard it must’ve been for him to be alone for so long. “I promise.” You pulled away to look into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere now. I’m here.” 

He smiled softly. “Do you remember what we used to promise each other when we first got together?” 

You giggled, remembering. “That we'll stay together forever, until we bleed out?”

He chuckled, remembering how young you both were when you made that up. The promise/ inside joke was that neither of you could physically die from bleeding out therefore by saying so, you were promising each other forever. 

“Yeah.” He smiled and leaned in for a gentle kiss. He pulled away moments later, pressed his forehead against yours and whispered, “Together, ‘till we bleed out.”

Fin.  

a/n: to everyone who showed their love and support for this series, ily!! 

[starconsumer444]

“You’ll Love Me in the Morning”

(Miya Atsumu 18+)

A/N: I’ve had this idea for a while. It’s based off this guy I knew who was a pain in the ass to deal with and I was sure he’d kill me. He didn’t though, so now this exists. Full circle, yeah?

(CW/TW: Yandere!Atsumu, [I don’t like that term for this, but it describes it well enough, I suppose???], Incel!Atsumu [??????], Non-con, Sadism, Crying, Recording, Kidnapping, A dash of Misogyny, Spitting, Slapping, Punching, Kicking, Fighting, Strangulation, Borderline snuff [but no actual death], Mind-break???, Name-Calling, !!THIS IS FUCKED UP!!, Bad proofreading but I tried my best<3, please tell me if there’s a mistake somewhere.)

Atsumu is a demented heathen and you finally have to face what you’ve picked up on for so long. This isn’t shocking. You told everyone he was weird. Why didn't they believe you?

You thrash violently against his hold as he drags you back to his bedroom by your hair. His grip is strong and unwavering. You throw punches at his arms and try to dig your heels into the ground, that only earns you a harsh tug forward.

“You fucking weirdo! Let me go!” You yell at him but he doesn’t even spare a glance over his shoulder to be face to face with your indignation.

You start to fight even harder, with more fury when he grabs the door handle to his room. You know you don’t want to go back in there and you fear you’ll never come back out if you do. You dig your nails into his forearm as you kick at his legs. You're screaming your lungs out, hoping to god that someone hears you and comes to your rescue.

Where does that get you? Nowhere.

It takes the athlete so little effort to throw your struggling body to the floor of his room and slam the door behind himself. For a second, the fight’s knocked right out of you and you're silent as you see his menacing figure loom over you.

The expression on your face is that of a deer in headlights— Atsumu can’t help but feel a little pleased and sadistic.

He looks amused, like this is all a game to him. He wears that same cocky smirk, but his eye’s are no longer gentle, there’s a darkness behind them that you know for a fact you would've picked up on had it been there before.

Why did you agree to come here?

“I want to go home, Atsumu.” You declare sternly as you get back to your feet and meet his eyes. Really though, you don’t think you can keep this facade up. Your heart is beating out of your chest and the only thing keeping you on your feet and not shaking about is will power. “Where are my clothes?” There’s demand in your voice, but you’re sure even Atsumu can hear it waver.

“Come on, baby,” He steps toward you and for every one of his steps forward you take one step back. Soon enough you're pressed up against his wooden bed frame. “Just be good for the camera.”

You eye it, the red light signaling that its recording from on top of his tv stand across thee room.

“No!” You push at his chest. It’s pure muscle. Even through the fabric of his black shirt you can feel it. You can’t fight him, but you’re not going to give up.

“Why not?” His voice is honeyed. He lifts your head by your chin and lets his thumb run over your bottom lip. His eyes meet yours and they’re filled with feigned compassion, like he hadn’t just thrown you to the floor. “I’ve been so nice to you.”

“Because I don’t want this. I don’t want to be here anymore.” You were supposed to be hanging out but you woke up with your clothes gone and hidden away. “Atsumu, I rejected you. Why don’t you get it?” You stare daggers right back into his brown eyes, but he just chuckles and harshly presses his lips to yours.

Your hands hastily grab onto the fabric of his shirt as you fall back onto his bed, his lips not leaving yours for a second. His large frame traps you under him. Your hands are flat against his chest as you try to push him off. It’s useless, you feel him smile against your lips as he uses one hand to grab both of your wrists and hold them away from himself. Quickly enough, your legs come up to kick at him. It’s doesn’t last very long. You whimper into his lips as a strong hand comes down to slap your thigh. It stings like hell and has you relenting immediately.

“Kiss me back.” He demands breathily, only parting for a second to look you in the eye and tell you what to do.

Needless to say, you refuse.

That only has him sitting up, and slapping you silly when you don't comply.

He holds your arms firmly and whales on you. He’s saying something about you being a “disrespectful and unappreciative bitch”. You can barely hear him—not over your small whines as you try to turn your head and wriggle away from him. He slaps you about ten times before he stops.

He lets you go— moves off of you, and you hastily move to the headboard. Maybe if you don’t actually try to run he won’t hurt you anymore.

“Atsumu-”

“What happened to ‘Tsumu?” Even if you weren’t looking each other dead in the eyes the smile he wore would be more than obvious in his voice.

There you go with that deer in headlights look again like you’re the victim, he thinks to himself. He’s the one with the broken heart; not you.

He moves himself closer to you, officially giving you no where to go or run to. He’s right between your legs when he leans forward to kiss you again. You still don’t reciprocate.

“Yer bein’ difficult,” He scolds, lacing his hand in your hair and yanking you to the side. Your heads cocked uncomfortably but you still keep your eyes on him.

“Please let me go.” Your voice isn’t strong anymore more, you’re practically begging.

You don’t even see it because you flinch when he does it but you feel it. His spit lands, frothy, thick and disgusting on your cheek.

“Stop asking that shit, yer not goin’ anywhere.” Your body tenses. Your hands come to your chest, almost curling in on yourself, when you feel his hand strike your tits— each once, individually. “Say you love me.” He yanks your hair again.

He pinches your thigh when you don’t respond quickly enough.

You just jerk away from the feeling.

Your first tear falls upon the realization that you’re not getting out of this and they seemingly never stop coming afterwards.

He lets go of your hair and your first move is to try to run away from him. You make it barely past his shoulder when he slams you down onto his mattress again. Your head bumps into the headboard on the way down, but he pays that no mind.

The struggle is violent, you’re scratching him like a wild animal and none of your kicks land solidly on any part of him. He slaps and punches you several times telling you to knock it off, but not once do you relent. He ends up with his palm flat against your face pressing you down firmly into the mattress as he pulls his sweats and boxers down and positions himself at your entrance.

You feel the head of his dick smooth right between your folds and you feel the wetness of his precum spread along with it. For the first time, your hit lands solid. You slap him across the face and bite his palm.

The only thing you see is his displeased face before your world is made a spinning blur by his fist meeting with the side of your head, it’s filled with way more violence than the last few times. Then he lands one of your stomach and it knocks the air out of you right before he guides himself into you.

You try to scream, but the sounds not there. It feels like he is tearing you apart from the inside. You twist in agony and you can hear him laughing at you. Then he moves himself and the pace is brutal. He wants you to hurt, he doesn't have to say it.

His calloused hands wrap around your throat and squeeze tightly. You're going to die; Atsumu is going to kill you.

You flounder beneath him but he pays it no mind. Moans spill from his lips like he’s enjoying himself.

“Baby, I’ve wanted this for so long,” He looks you dead in the eyes with that cruel smile. “But you don’t know how to give men what they want, do you?” Your mouth hangs open when you try to gasp for air— he takes the opportunity to spit right onto your tongue. “Been so nice for so long, but incompetent bitches like you wanna play hard to get. Hate that shit.” His grip on your throat loosens for a second; you manage to get a little air right before he tightens both hands right back again.

Now it feels like he’s trying to ram his dick right past your cervix. Bug eyed and terrified, you shake your head. It hurts so fucking bad.

“Yer bleedin’, ya know?” It’s a low chuckle. When he looks down to see where your bodies meet, then looks back up at you, he smiles. “Sluts like you deserve it. Pussy’s gunna be destroyed for anyone else who tries to use it.” His grip is now impossibly tight and you’re sure this is it. You’re sure he’s going to kill you.

This is no way to go. You don’t want to die like this, with Atsumu violating you and your lungs burning. You kick at his sides and its weak along with your slaps to his forearms and scratches at his face. Still, his skin is marked red and on the verge of bleeding in some areas.

You're coughing and trying to sit up but he slams you back down by your neck. Drool starts to fall from the corner of your mouth and you want to beg him but you can’t. Your hands squeeze at his forearm, trying to appeal to his better nature.

He just calls you a weak little bitch. “Should learn to smile for the camera, yer gonna be my little snuff star soon.” He beams.  You squeeze his arm even harder, the pads of your fingers are sure to leave bruises.

As your tunnel vision starts to kick in he lets go and shoves two of his fingers into your mouth. You choke around them as you try to catch your breath.

Your body’s limp and you’re not fighting him anymore, you’re just coughing viciously around his fingers as the worlds color comes back to you.

“Stop cryin’” He reprimands as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth to slap you. The delivery is as rough as ever but you’re too dazed to register it fully; you just let out a painful mewl. You hadn’t even realized you were still crying, but it’s even worse now. You feel the snot pooling around your upper lip. “Yer not fuckin’ dead. What the fuck are you still doing that for.”

Your chest feels heavy as you stop coughing and gasp for air. Your throat hurts, your strength is gone, but you’re alive and sure there’s a god. There has to be, you were sure Atsumu would kill you. Still, Atsumu is ramming himself right into your cervix like he’s going to magically break past it.

You muster up just enough strength to pull your self away from it with your elbows, but he pulls you back down onto it and holds you by your waist. You can feel the wetness of his fingers covered in your spit pressed against your skin. You sob out hoarsely, but there's little sound and he smirks.

Your hand viciously taps at his shoulder and you shake your head; tears are still falling. You try to tell him that it hurts, but when you open your mouth to speak, “hur-” is all you manage before your sound is gone and your throat aches. He’s destroyed you.

He gets the message.

“I don’t care if it hurts.” He furrows his brows. “Fucking me is a privilege and you’ll like whatever I give you.” Right when he says that his rhythm falters and he starts to loose himself in the pleasure of being wrapped in your heat.

“Fuck, ahhh-” He moans out, head coming down into your neck. His lips press against you in a wet kiss and you can feel the heat of his breath against you. “Should get you pregnant, it’s not like you’re goin’ anywhere.” He says before he bites into your shoulder and cums inside you with a guttural moan. Your back arches off the mattress and you feel his palm flatten against your stomach between you and him before he forcefully pushes you back down.

Atsumu doesn't know what he’ll do with you or the video quite yet. He lays on top of you panting heavily and in deep thought.

He could keep you? Yeah, he’ll keep you. He could post the video? No, that’s for him to watch and show you when you piss him off.

He’s going to make your life hell from now on until you learn to love him.

“Say you love me.”

“I love you.”

[regrettablewritings]

Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️