#anyway this is just something that's been causing me to build rage over the past bit

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

Can you do a Sirius x reader where the reader goes to visit him in Azkaban

winter’s only pretty when you’re warm.

tags: sirius black x gn!reader,, soft angst,, azkaban,, ambiguous ending,, mention of yn,, short around 1k wc or so

a/n: thank you for the request,,, i hope you like it anon! <3

“jus’ hand over your wand, empty pockets, that’s it—“ the security, if you can even call him that, was a lanky, gaunt-looking man. he looked to not even bother to weigh your wand before stashing it away and waving you off. though you imagine, there’s hardly any need for him anyway, no one would even dare to step foot in this place.

the stone walls, dusty and narrow. the windows, hardly even considered as such for how small it was, was unreasonably high. like they don’t even want the inmates gazing at the sky. there was no light fixtures in place, except for the small weak fires lining up the hallway.

you hear the howling winds outside, and waves crashing against the the building, the silent echoes of groans, the crying pleas and the manic laughter deep inside the building.

the doors slammed open by the rough winds of the sea. you jumped, whirling to look at the source of the sound, fingers circling around your absent and locked up wand. an occupational hazard, moody calls it. you unclench your fingers, stretching out the tension.

you asked, no, begged dumbledore to do this. to be the one to talk to him, at least once.

the guard called over another, barking out, we have a visitor. as if it was a joke.

it could be. rarely anyone gets granted visits to azkaban, but dumbledore isn’t just anyone. you even had the absolute pleasure of getting bloody tips on where to go and what to say and who to say it to.

it was another guard, a familiar man that once worked for the dmle, though you fail to remember his name.

“i’m here for—”

he clicked his tongue, “i know who,” standing up with a groan and adjusting his trousers, “not like we have a line-up of visitors shceduled in this charming place. follow me then.”

elevators don’ work, always malfunctionin’, someone almost died last year, if you could believe it. ministry didn’t want to be liable so they jus’ removed it. didn’t even think of the older employees working here those bastards, the familiar man ranted.

on a regular day, strangers talking to you would have been your nightmare come to life, but you’ve come to appreciate the noise in your ears rather than the raging heartbeat echoing in your chest.

as you go further, raising floor up to floor, the colder it got, the more unsettled you feel. for once, it wasn’t because of the dementors that caused the chills down your spine but something greyer and darker than they are.

he led you to a room, locking it as he says wait, off to fetch him.

you stare at the scraped up table, the scruffs and scorch marks on the walls. wondering what must’ve happened from past visits before.

you pick at the skin around your nails, biting and ripping, until the red bead of blood seeps out.

the metal door creaks open, murmurs of warning exchanged between prisoner and guard, and then all you can see is grey and dark.

his sunken eyes, holding the once vibrant grey eyes that have now gone dull and misty. the dark luscious waves now in knots and matted down. he looked so different but he brightens up all the same once he sees you.

he runs to you, engulfing you in a hug. one that you know he needs more than anything. you see the guard reach for his wand and you stop him with a shake of your head, assuring that it was fine. he reluctantly nods and leaves you two alone.

you hear sirius take a deep breath in the crook of your neck as he clutches unto you for dear life. “angel, i di-didn’t—“ he sobbed, arms tightening as he did so, “i would have n-never, i would never betray james like that. you believe me, don’t you? please say you believe me. please say.” his voice cracking, body shaking like a damn leaf. he felt so cold, shaking in thin, shabby looking clothes.

you slowly raised your arms around his waist, hugging him back.

“i believe you,” you whispered, offering mere words as a consolation for losing everything, he cries harder. “shh. sirius. i’m here, i believe you,” you breathed, repeating this like a mantra, as he hugs you more and more into his chest. one of his hand smoothing out your hair at the back of your head and the other firmly wrapped around your waist.

the way he hugged you, and looked at you hadn’t changed, why should anything else?

you stay like this until he resembled the warm heat of a living person. sitting in front of each other but clutching each other’s hands. you struggle as you remove your, his, jacket but you did, placing it on his shoulders right after. hoping the heat from your use, can warm him just a bit more before the inevitable arrives.

“i c-can’t believe they let you be here.” he breathed, voice rasping like it was the first he’s used it in weeks. it probably is, you imagine dementors to be rather dull conventionalists.

“they had to,” you laugh bitterly, imagining the loud protests from the order, when you requested a visit. “else i would have never stopped. i had to come see you no matter what.” you look at him, dirtied and thin. chest clenching and something heavy dropping into your stomach as you gulp, “i should’ve come sooner, if i had known—“

he softly smiled, grey eyes looking so tired but actively roaming around your face, as if memorizing every minute detail. every blemish, mark, scar, mole and line. like it was the last time “no, this is perfect. i didn’t even think i could see you—“ he looked down at your hand completely engulf by his, an overtly misplaced fond smile on his still handsome face, “let alone touch you.” raising your hand to his cold lips as if to emphasize his point.

you dragged your chair over to him, clutching at his arms, pulling him to you—hugging him once more, unable to look at him as you bury your face to his shoulder. it hurt seeing him so happy here, of all places, just for the mere fact that he got to hold your hand.

resting your head on his shoulder, and him nuzzling your hair, taking deep breaths in. as if hoping your smell can somehow be engrave into his brain before the inevitable.

it was easy to forget where you were, being with him like this, but the distant moans and screams was just as easy to hear.

running your tongue over your dried bitten lips, knowing of the time and the limit set. “i don’t how to get you out, sirius,” you sniffled, clutching his dirty and muddy clothes. “they won’t listen to reason-”

he whispers back to you, face still buried into your hair, “because they’re afraid, angel.”

“they have nothing to be afraid of,” you scoff. “you don’t deserve to be here. you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“haven’t i?” he laughs, “i mean it was my idea—“

you shook your head, “don’t. you thought of it as a strategy, a damn good one if that. it was him. he was the one who couldn’t be trusted. it isn’t on you.”

“but i trusted the wrong person—“

“that doesn’t make you responsible for his actions, i don’t even want to—“ taking a deep breath, calming yourself down, “i just want to focus finding a way to set you free—“

“jus’ you here is fine,”

you frown, pulling away from him to look at him in the eyes. grey still misty, still dark.

“why do you sound like you’re just giving up.”

not a question. an accusation, a soft one—a disbelieving one.

he reaches to you. rough hands on your cheeks that used to be so soft, sullied after a year. “because it wouldn’t matter, james is gone, lily is gone, pete—“

“i’m not.” you cut in, smothering the rage at even hearing the traitor’s name. “remus either.” you steered your voice to be firm, “and harry, we’re still here waiting for you.”

conversation became quieter after that. less important, less imposing, more normal. like you were in your flat rather than a cell. in front of a comfy fire, rather than the howling sea winds and cold chills of the floating spirits around you.

chatting in the living room, talking about your day and the plans for the week after a hearty dinner.

hands, arms and even ankles twisted and tangled with each other. needing nothing else but to melt and meld with one another, never to part.

but then the inevitable, the door clanking and creaking open, indicating the end.

you pull each other, hugging fiercely just like the first.

sirius kissing your neck and cheek and forehead and nose and mouth. whispering promises, you don’t know if he’ll be able to keep.

he wasn’t shivering now, all warmed up and looking content but this offered no peace of mind knowing what he has to come back to. how sensitive he is to the cold.

he was escorted back to his cell, a lingering look sent to you as he goes, and each step he takes away from you makes you feel a little colder, a little more frustrated and a little more hopeless.

sooner than you’d like, you were already going down again, your jacket warmed by him hanging off your shoulders.

you get your wand and your portkey and leave.

the portkey beeps, counting down the seconds before it activates, as a trickle of snow softly fall down from the sky. snowflakes catching into your sleeves, beautiful shapes and designs in each one. the howling winds, cold and strong, but warmed by your jacket, you can hardly feel it. then you think of the thin, shivering, man holding your heart, trapped in the tower. with his cold lips and tired grey eyes.

#perpetuallydaydreaming #sirius black x gn!reader #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #marauders era #sirius black angst #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #sirius black fanfic #lily evans #sirius in azkaban #marauders imagine #the marauders #sirius black x reader

[undertheorangetree]

The Aftermath

Summary- Near death experiences have a habit of changing relationships.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. DUBCON due to persuasion. Female reader. Arguments. Bigotry/Islamophobia. Discussions of near death experiences/trauma. Dark-ish/toxic Billy. Fingering. P in V sex.

Author's Note- Okay so I've never actually seen the show in its entirety because it's not available in my country so I'm working off the wikia and what I've seen in scenes. Please forgive any mistakes/misinformation, he looked too sad and pathetic not to write for. Full link below :)

She doesn't bother to knock when she arrives at Billy's flat, storming inside with little regard for his privacy. He had given her a key not long after he moved in, promising that she could come over whenever she wanted, though she isn't sure this is what he had in mind at the time.

She makes her way passed the trash building up at the front door, forcing her way inside and finding him exactly where she expects to, lounging on the couch with some football game playing on the TV. He sits up when he spots her in the doorway, the smile that graces his face when he sees her slowly fading when he catches sight of her expression. She is sure it is a storm, her anger obvious, but she doesn't give him a chance to speak first.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

He looks at her blankly for a moment before a realization seems to come over him. "Lana told you then?"

"Yeah, Lana told me. What the hell were you thinking?"

He rolls his eyes, pushing forward to grab the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and taking a swig. Her eyes catch the cuts on his knuckles, the opposite hand covered with a bloodied bandage, and watches the skin between his brows crease when the abused skin stretches. "Why does it matter to you? It's not like anyone was there anyway, was there? And you can't tell me they didn't deserve it."

"Why does it- Billy, you're not this stupid."

In all the years she's known him, she has never known him to be cruel. Quiet and insecure, surely, but never vicious. She almost hadn't believed Lana when she had called her, informing her of the one man attack he had pulled at the butcher's. It seemed so entirely out of character from the friend she had always known it nearly scared her, hearing about how he had destroyed the storefront for the crime of being owned by a Muslim family. But more than fear, it made her skin crawl, a disgust for him she had never felt toiling in her gut.

She isn't an idiot. She knows how he has been struggling lately. From his breakup with Becky to his consistent unemployment to his family ragging on him to make something of himself. Nothing has been easy for him as of late but she never would have expected him to let his rage out like this.

"If you only came here to bite my head off about it, save us both the trouble, yeah? Lana already beat you to it."

"So you don't regret it at all? Any of it?"

She wants him to say yes. And not just for the criminal record he has now contracted for it but for the guilt of screwing over innocent people. She wants him to prove that he is still her friend, to believe that he hasn't fallen down this path without so much as a blink.

He does little to assuage her fears. "What do I have to regret about it?"

Her disgust increases tenfold with that- she is grateful for it, as it manages to cover the pain of his confession- and she feels her face contort. "Why would you do it? What was the point?"

"They're the reason the world has gone to shit. It's 'cause of people like them, their whole fucked up religion. They're the animals here, not me."

She physically recoils at that, not bothering to hide her repulsion now. "Jesus Christ, Billy."

"Well I don't expect you to understand it. You're too nice, got a fucking bleeding heart for every poor bastard that walks past ya. It's 'cause of people like you that Nick and I-"

That catches her attention. "Nick? Was someone else with you when you went to the butcher?"

His face drops as if he realizes he has said something wrong but he still shakes his head as nonchalantly as he can manage. It isn't indifferent in the slightest. "Nah. Just my friend."

Read the rest here

#billy Washington x reader #billy Washington x fem!reader #billy Washington x you #billy Washington smut #billy washington trigger point #billy washington #trigger point #trigger point 2022 #billy Washington fanfic #billy Washington fanfiction

[mantis-dea]

When a Good Deed Causes a Series of Unexpected Events - Chapter 1 - The Encounter

As a general rule in a large city, you should MYOB - Mind Your Own Business. Of course, who would've thought calling a man an ambulance and giving him your umbrella would leave to something called Stands. Definitely not you.

My first Tumblr post! My blog will be fanfics, mostly JoJo's Bizarre Adventure and maybe Overwatch. Not sure if I will take requests yet.

For this story, I don't know how fast chapters will be coming out, nor do I know how many chapters it will have. I do want to say that, so far, this story in progress has over 10k words.

It's my first fanfic I'll be publishing, and a lot of it is just me going with the flow. I'll let you know if previous chapters have changed and what changed. Feedback is welcomed!

As you stand inside the old brick building, you watch pellets of water race down the glass windows, creating a blurry kaleidoscope of colors. You hear a distant low rumble of thunder, a reminder of the powerful storm raging outside. It’s been three days since you last caught a glimpse of the moon, hidden behind the thick veil of clouds that have been crying down on the city. This relentless downpour had transformed the streets into shallow rivers, and it seemed like the storm had no intention of relenting.

But you were grateful for the shelter of the building. It's a familiar haven from the relentless rain—a place where you've found solace amid the chaos of Lapalton's changing seasons. You decide not to think too much about the storm and to enjoy the soothing sound of the rain tapping against the windows. It's a comforting backdrop to the cacophony of voices and clinking glasses that fill the bar tonight.

“Why?” The drunkard’s wording slurred, “Why? Why did she leave me?”

You continue to clean a wine glass with a towel, your focus on your task. Such outbursts are common among the last-call patrons, and you’ve learned not to take it personally. But when he places a crinkled hand on top of yours and starts rubbing, you feel a surge of discomfort. You try to pull away, but he tightens his grip.

“Sir, please let go,” you say calmly, unsure if he’ll even pay heed to your comment.

Instead, he starts mumbling about how he can’t find someone like you who’s good at “care.” You raise an eyebrow at his words, having not a clue on what he’s even muttering about.

When he finally notices the deafening silence, he releases your hand and stands up. “You’re too fat for my taste anyways,” he mutters, stumbling towards the door, leaving no tip.

No. Tip.

Bartending for the rich is great, they said. It pays well, they said. High end bar, my ass. I’m barely pulling $10 a night in tips.

Several months back, you used to work at a small hotel. Checking people in, reserving rooms, and even sometimes cleaning the questionably wet bed sheets. There, you overheard your coworkers gossiping about Maria, a coworker who quit her job and became a high-class bartender, making six figures. The words “six figures” were all you needed to hear. You quit all your jobs without two weeks’ notice once you surprisingly got a job at SPW, a high-end bar in one of the biggest cities in America.

That hype immediately faded on day three.

Sure, your salary did increase, but it surely was not the six figures you were promised. You know what did increase? Your hatred for the wealthy. They constantly brag about being rich, but they can’t spare you a few dollars? The rare time you do get tipped fairly is if they bring a party with them; they only tip as a power move to show just how wealthy and considerate they are to their group.

After cleaning up the bar, you grab your things, open your umbrella, and lock the doors. Unfortunately for you, buses run less frequently past midnight, and it is currently two-thirty in the morning. So, your options are to either take the thirty-two-minute walk or wait an hour at the bus stop that is about two blocks away where drug addicts hang out.

You trudge through the pouring rain.

Walking home in this fucking sucks.

You do love rain, just not when you have to walk through it at two-thirty in the morning after a twelve-hour shift.

Surprisingly, you reach your block five minutes faster than usual. The motivation to make it home made you walk faster. All you wanted to do was sleep.

In the distance, you spot a familiar sight – an unconscious man leaning against the aged brick walls, slumping over. You live on the less fortunate side of the city, near the slums. The disoriented drug addicts, wandering drunkards, and the frequent thievery and robberies make this area one of the worse areas to live, but the inexpensive rent of a decently size apartment is a major selling point for you. Luckily, all the crazies you’ve encountered so far have been relatively harmless. Still, you’re always on edge whenever you pass one.

If people were amidst a drug exchange or passed out drunk, you’d wait it out; unless they overdosed, they typically don’t stay for more than half an hour. However, tonight, you don’t care. You don’t feel like waiting for this one to get up and go. The weather is abhorred, and you’re drenched, cold, dirty, and exhausted. A steaming hot shower and a good night’s rest sounds like heaven right about now.

You proceed with caution and approach. You were planning to just ignore him. However, your bafflement got the best of you. You halt and squat down to stare at the young man before you. Despite the alleyway being dimly lit, the man’s golden, disheveled hair shines like a polished gold bar. He looks around to be your age – early 20s. His expensive-looking black suit and pants consist of many cuts and scuffs; it seems as though he got into a fight with someone.

 You lean forward and take a whiff.

“Well, he’s not drunk.”

You put a hand to his nose; you feel a light puff of air. Then, you pull up both his tattered sleeves. No track marks. No injuries.

Your eyebrows furrow. This man is mysterious and sketchy. Mysterious because he’s hot and looks innocent. Sketchy because he’s in a not-so-good area in this awful weather, unconscious of all things. He looks like he got into a fight, but he’s completely uninjured.

I bet he’s part of an Italian mafia. Like that movie, Godfather.

You shot up and stumble back when you hear a small grumble from him. You stay deathly still for a minute, readying to bounce if need be. However, the man eyes never opened.

You let out a small sigh of relief. You feel terrible as he sits knocked out in a dirty alleyway in the rain. You truly do want to help him. However, you don’t know him. You don’t know who’s after him. Why he ended up here in the first place. It’s too dangerous to assume he’s a good person. Still, you did not want to leave him like this. You place an umbrella over the man and call for an ambulance before heading in the direction of your apartment.

Your apartment complex is unique – there is no main indoor lobby where you could chat with the landlord and take an elevator up to your floor. No, instead, you must walk up a flight of questionably rusty metal stairs to get to the door of your apartment. Fortunately, you are only on the 3rd floor and not the 13th floor.

You unlock the door to your apartment. The exterior would fool anyone into believing that the old building is rack and ruined. It may or may not potentially fail a building inspection, but the apartments - well at least yours - are very clean. The complex is a bit expensive for the area, but much cheaper compared to the inner city, meaning there are more people like you and less addicts living within the flats. Though, the smell of weed does pass by from time to time.

When you step into your apartment, a familiar, rubber, black mat greets you. You bend down to untie your dress shoes and place them neatly in the small compartment beside you. Your studio apartment is spacious. Hidden in some parts of your white walling are large storage compartments. You had a white sliding door that disconnects and reconnects the kitchen area from the rest of the living room. A black metal staircase to the left leads you to your bed. Very spacious indeed, but dark. Your only window is the one next to the entry door; though, at least it’s a large window. Another feature located to the left of your door is the bathroom that harbors a washer and dryer.

Turning the handle of your bathroom door, you hear the familiar click as it opens. You reach for the shower handle and, after a few moments of finicking, water streams down from the showerhead. As you shed your clothes and step into the shower, the hot water soothes your tired body, and a contented sigh escapes your lips. Thoughts of your job as a bartender, with its challenges posed by wealthy patrons, linger in your mind. Being a bartender has its moments of fun, but it's also filled with frustrations, and you can't help but think about the high turnover rate in your line of work. People can be demanding, and the pay is barely above the minimum yearly salary.

You dry yourself off, slip on a pair of warm pajamas, and head to bed. Usually, you would sit down and do at least an hour of assignments for your classes, but you are not in the mood today.

Your eyes flutter open. Stifling a groan, you sit up and pull out your flip phone from under your pillow.

9:42 a.m.

March 11th, 2008.

Normally, you’d sleep for a few more hours. However, your kitchen is starving; you have not gone grocery shopping for the past two weeks because you’ve been so caught up with work. Your boss proposed higher pay if you willingly worked from opening to closing this entire week. Of course, you outright rejected. Then, he countered with time-and-a-half. There was no hesitation when you told him, “Bet.”

Even with your 5’2” stature, the loft area of your apartment is too petite for a proper stretch. You slowly climb down your ladder to prepare for the day ahead.

After eating an instant mac-and-cheese microwave bowl, you put on your shoes, and head out. As you walk down the metal staircase, you notice the absence of the young man from last night. A pang of guilt courses through you as you think of the condition you left him in. You’re hopeful an ambulance came to give him the care he needs.

As you tread by where the young man was, you suddenly catch sight of something. Something that smitten you instantly. Amidst the dark, dank alley, something in the distance shines with an otherworldly brilliance, beckoning you closer. There is no resistance; you mindlessly walk towards the light, until you’re standing right in front it. Your head tilts. It’s still unclear as to what it is; the intense shine blocks the view. You reach out towards the light.

A sudden, searing pain has you screeching at the top of your lungs. You’re quick to clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle your screams of agony. Your body suddenly felt heavy, and you began to sweat excessively. The world seems to be spinning around you at a rapid pace. Something is not right, you thought, just as your legs buckle. You crumble to the ground.

#giorno x reader #giorno x y/n #jojo x reader #jojo x y/n #golden wind x reader #jjba x reader #giorno giovanna x reader

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

Part 2

Forever

I have seen amazing artists and content creators come and go, and some get taken out by cancellation. Whether it was true or not, I’ve seen the fellow painter and aspiring film maker be chased off respective platforms or generally scared away because of the negative effects of cancellation. They will be canceled over stupid things they did in the past close to a decade ago or over something that isn't true. And honestly, I'm sick of it. I don’t care who you cancellers are, I want to rip you apart with fangs and claws. And I'm sick all of you trolls getting what you want. 

There was one artist I knew who made the most beautiful pieces and one random asshole one day called them out for being a pedo. Were they? No, and how would they even know anyway? But everyone just jumped up and dogpiled her. I tried my hardest to intervene and tell her not to listen to what they had to say, but the damage had been done, they succeeded and chased her off. And I will never forgive them for that. Such a talented person chased off and for what? To stroke someone's ego? Because they were jealous? It doesn’t matter. This terrible rage in my stomach has been building up with every artist running away with the fear of being cancelled and I can’t take it. 

When it first began, the cancellation movement, some foresaw how bad it would be and realized that they didn’t want to face it. For example, my beloved Jenna Marbles. Who knows, maybe she was tired of the whole YouTube scene to begin with, she had been doing it for ten years after all, but she decided to do her own cancellation to free herself from someone bringing it up instead. Maybe she realized how dangerous this was and that she should just leave before it was too late, cause with 2020 and that cancelling movement on the horizon, I don’t think my girl had the strength to keep up. She did her own cancellation suicide and fucked off, escaping criticism by criticizing herself. And I was heartbroken. Still am. That it had gotten so bad that a content creator would freely air out her own dirty laundry to feed the rabid wolves and make her escape. And there were those who relished off of it. Happy she was gone. Making me sick and fueling my anger even more. 

And then there were more. Mostly men, cancelled here and there. I won't name names, but we know them. Know who they are if you followed any cancellation ever. And chased off usually over some stupid shit they said in their twenties or being accused of grooming. Which the former most of the time seems easier to bounce back from then the later. Being called a racist, homophobic, etc., can be subjective. Especially during this day and age when the internet is so unbelievably sensitive to everything because they read every word with malicious intent towards themselves specifically. But so many content creators get targeted at the height of popularity or just because they were extremely popular. It’s obvious. So well known, and the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And some if not many, y'know, don’t deserve it. Some if not many don’t deserve cancellation and I will bite with so much rage in my being on their part. I know they can probably take care of themselves, but there are so many who can’t. They can’t hold on in these seas of accusations.

And then there are those who bounce back. Many will argue that they shouldn’t, but after time many seem to have forgiven what they were canceled about or just simply don’t care. Like Mr. Logan Paul for example. The man had such a lack of sense that he filmed a dead body and posted that on Youtube. And now he is doing interviews for Mr Beast. I just find that one... Interesting? Now, I don’t know much about Logan Paul except for all his drama. I don’t care too much for him cause he’s pretty loud and that hurts my ears. Nor is his content for me. I don’t know much about him as a person at all and can’t speak on behalf of his character. I don't know if Logan Paul grew up or gained some common sense, but what I do know is that he held out. He washed off all the judgment and accusations, drama or whatever and held on. Which seems to be the only cure for cancel culture on the internet. Is to endure.

And I don't want these trolls to feel more empowered than they already do. Cause I hate these trolls and want to cave their teeth in. Or maybe expose them too. Show your face, cowards behind the screen. You accuse those who are wide out in the open of the most terrible things, at least have the balls to say it to their faces instead of hiding in your monitors.

And frankly, when has cancellation ever helped anyone? I find it very useless and it just hurts people. Maybe if it was directed at large corporations or films making ugly versions of sonic, then I could see that as impactful. But no, it usually goes after the individual which is just so stupid. Hounding them about the past and past shit they said. So idiotic, it baffles me that people still allow it. To let the trolls say they have moral superiority over you and what they say goes. Gross. And you just know that these bastards on the other side of the screen have done shit too. They’ve said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Probably worse. Made the nastiest of jokes and comments. And are just being hypocritical and immature. I know I am also not above people and stupid dark jokes and these trolls should quickly learn this too if they know what’s good for them.

And these cancellers certainly have a lot of time on their hands. They might be young. Maybe. Might be a stupid kid which if so I could expand the notion, that if it is a stupid kid, then yeah, they could be forgiven for what they've done one day as I would expect these content creators to be forgiven for the stupid shit they said in their youth one day too. But also, what they did was horrible. I would respect Forever if he actually went about suing someone, but I don’t think he can sue a child. But still, what a horrible child. If only their parents knew. That they are dismantling lives just because they find someone annoying.

But to be for real and realistic, I think this person is some sad boring unemployed troll who resents him for whatever reason and this is their way of retaliation. And with that... Forever get their ass. He is upending your life and attempted to do the same to some of your friends. Get em.

And lastly, if Forever really was a creep, which no he is not, I want to ask Quackity if he did background checks on any of these content creators? Or did he just invite them in which I could see as a major oversight. Because these creators, I feel like when inviting them into something like a Minecraft server, it’s akin to a sponsorship. It supports your project but you have to do a thorough background check to see if they are safe for stream. Which is just why I found that it doesn't make sense at all that at least Quackity wouldn't know about Forever’s past! With how rife and pungent cancel culture is now, if I was him, I'd be so on edge. Especially if it’s my passion project was on the line. And he should know what it's like, even at his young age, he should know from what he's seen. And maybe the QSMP was seen as something small at first so he didn’t make the precautions, but once QSMP was getting bigger, wouldn’t he have checked? He should have been able to as well. Some rando online found these tweets thanks to pure spite, I'm sure Quackity and co could have done some digging sooner, months earlier and have made a decision. So this, this here, makes the least sense to me out of this entire nonsensical situation. 

But hey, if Forever somehow is a freak which I can tell he’s not, then I will eat my words. But that is not today.

(Same with part 1. I will block you if I find you too annoying. My temper is short and my block button is sincerely right there.)

(But I have said what I wanted to say. There is probably more. But Goodbye for now.)

#qsmp #quackity smp #forever #foreverplayerg #qsmpforever #qsmp forever #discourse #I have much to say

[farfromstrange]

A random Matt Murdock x f!vampire!reader thought I had on Halloween [and I’m now dropping it a month before Christmas ‘cause I can]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!vampire!reader

Warnings: vampires, religious imagery, dialogue heavy

a/n: lmk if you want me to turn this into an actual fic!! I enjoyed writing this little excerpt so if you want, I can spice my profile up and actually write this idea out!!

“This isn’t going to hurt me, you know?”

“Oh yeah?”

He stopped clutching the golden cross dangling from around his neck, building the perfect contrast to the crimson of his leather clad suit. The irony of the Devil’s horns paired with the religious piece of jewelry went straight past him, but never past the woman standing right before him on the steps of the small, abandoned chapel in the heart of New York City.

“Aren’t vampires supposed to burn at the sight of a crucifix?” He realized that burn might have been too strong of a word. “…or something equally as dramatic?” he added, the hint of a dark smirk gone lost in his voice.

She chuckled. The sound bounced off the high walls decorated with poison ivy and cobwebs, and the cracks in the stone were prove of the significant age of the catholic landmark. “That’s what humans like to believe,” she said. “In your pretty little heads it goes something like this: If the sight of Jesus on a cross can make the undead shake in their boots, God must surely be stronger than the evil lurking in the dark. I would know, I used to be like you once. A long time ago. But no, that’s actually a common misconception. The only emotion this crucifix elicits in me is pure, unbridled rage.”

“And you really think I’d believe that?”

“I would say take a look in the mirror, but,” she clicked her tongue, “I don’t think you are going to see anything. Not because the mirror would be empty but because you can’t see. That’s important to clarify.”

He chuckled. “Okay, I get it. You also have a reflection. You know, you could tell me anything you want, that still doesn’t make me believe you.”

“You don’t have a choice though.”

“Oh, I do. I always have a choice.”

“What, you want to throw garlic at me next?” The silence told her that he played with the thought. “Sweetie,” she cooed, condescension in its rawest form, “That’s not even going to leave a rash. Don’t like the smell or the taste, but then again, I do not require sustenance, so nobody cares that I don’t like garlic on my food.”

“So, no fear of crucifixes, no allergy to garlic and you have a reflection. Is anything they teach us about vampires real?”

“Fair question, but no. No matter how badly you want those myths to be reality, they’re just myths. Stories. Retellings. Children of the human imagination.”

“Bram Stoker’s Dracula.”

“Classic literature without meaning,” she said. “But it’s a good book, nonetheless.” He could hear the smile on her voice, which was about the only thing about her that was audible to his ears.

There was something terrifying about acknowledging the existence of vampires. They were dead, abominations, creation of Satan – vampires were unnatural, born from the deepest, darkest pits of hell.

Her lack of bodily functions made it almost impossible for him to anticipate her behavior and it had him right on the precipice bothering on insanity.

“You’re very educated, Matthew. I’m impressed. I like that I can talk to you on an intellectual level, although that outfit of yours is a disgrace hiding behind my favorite color.”

“Why,” he asked, “because blood is red?”

“Perhaps, or maybe it’s just because red looks good on almost everyone.”

He scoffed.

“Dear Matthew, I know I’m currently breaking your mind, but fear not! I don’t want to kill or eat you,” she said. “Not your blood anyway.” Her eyes trailed over his body. Needy they were. Aroused, even.

He caught up on it. The longing glance, the lick of her lips, letting the saliva drip from her tongue to her bottom lip. He didn’t need to see to imagine her wild eyes undressing him.

“What do you want?” he asked. The last thing he wanted was for her to get the wrong idea.

But that dangerous woman already had the wrong idea. In her head, it was the right one. An attractive man entering her temporary stay… she would be the last person to say no to that.

“Nothing,” she stated. “I don’t have an ulterior motive. I know you want to have a reason to hate me other than the fact that I stand against everything your little catholic heart stands for, but I can’t offer you that.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Myths, novels, folklore and everything else that even remotely borders on fantasy is something that feeds your human brain with things you understand. You want to believe what you know to be true in order to justify my untimely death if you were to drive a stake through my heart or something equally as dramatic. That way, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty for murdering me, but since you can probably tell that there is a faint heartbeat in my chest, it’d still be murder.”

“Untimely?” he scoffed. “I doubt that a vampire’s death could ever be untimely.”

“Three and a half centuries is actually pretty early for my species. Equals about the age of twenty in human years.”

“I don’t understand,” he expressed, desperate and he looked so small then, standing below her.

“My advice,” she said, taking a step down from her pedestal, “delete everything you think you know about vampires from lore or mythology and start making up your own mind.“

“Why?”

“Ask yourself this instead, why not? Why believe anything you can’t prove to be either false or true just because you have a gut feeling, or your world views are different? Isn’t that called prejudice?”

“Prejudice?”

“Yes. I know big words too, Matthew. I mean, I am very old.” Her smirk told him she took this anything but seriously. “Well, you are catholic,” she said. “Catholics thrive off of prejudice.”

Matt shook his head. “You have no right to judge me.”

“I’m not judging you. I’m simply telling you to open up your mind to the possibility that there might be actually a power that’s even stronger than God. Just the possibility. Consider that. Rethink the world, rethink your religion, even. Rethink everything and reconsider what’s really important. Once you’ve done that, come back and have tea with me. If we’re still not on the same page then, you may drive that stake through my heart after all. I know you want to. God knows you want to. The only person who doesn’t know,” she said, tilting her head to the side as if she was talking cutely to a child, “is you, Matthew.”

“Deal,” he spoke before his brain even got the chance to think about it. “But don’t think for a moment that you’re in control of me. I can make my own decisions, and if I end up deciding to get rid of you, that’s my choice too.”

The vampire shrugged. “That’s fine by me. I do not fear death in the way you humans do.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly, “When I’m done with you, you’re gonna wish I’d been so merciful as to kill you.”

“Feisty, I like it,” she said, a smirk dancing on her lips in a heated salsa. “I look forward to talking to you again, Matthew.”

Her heels sounded faintly against the stone floor as she disappeared into the darkness of the abandoned church walls.

“You’re going to sleep in your coffin now?” he couldn’t help but toss after her.

The sweet sound of her usually so dooming laugh filled his ears. “Bed, actually,” she said, not even raising her voice from wherever she stood to stop and listen to him. “Coffins are so eighty-seven.”

Matt shook his head. He had always feared the creatures of the night, like the sisters at the orphanage told him to, and the priests at church always taught God’s disciples to be weary of Satan because Lucifer hides behind the most beautiful faces. The snake lurks in the dark and every person, male of female, represents Eve in the Garden of Eden, submissive to the silver tongue of the devil. That’s why you have to be on the lookout, they told them. He’s in people you don’t expect, and the creatures of the night wait for you to let them in so they can corrupt you.

Somehow though, this one was different. She was much different from what he expected and somehow, that intrigued him more than it scared him. She could have killed him but she didn’t. She could have eaten him but she didn’t. She had the opportunity, yet she chose not to.

He left the church instead of following his instincts to trap her and lock her away. He left and he decided to rethink everything, like she told him to.

What could possibly go wrong?

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x vampire!reader #reader insert #human disaster matt murdock #i have a thing for vampires #marvel #netflix daredevil #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil fic #excerpt from a book i might write

[avernusdamned]

mama karlach. does she ever genuinely want to have kids, a family? talk abt her parents n how they raised her. would she do anything differently—if so, what?

there's an option you can pick when you're romancing her where she asks you what you two would do together if she had fifty more years and that's: i'd actually think you'd make a great mum. which frankly blew me away the first time i had seen it bc up until the only answers i had been picturing was settling down or continue adventuring. her immediate response is a laugh and that wasn't ever part of the original plan but i can picture it. and OH BOY does that shred me to my core lemme tell you why.

karlach's picture of a perfect future was simple. be comfortable and be well off. she was young when she was getting her life together and reaching that goal, a very early twenty something that had the entire world to give so she could be something. someone. the details weren't fine pointed yet, it was all just a blob of color and wonder to be shaped and molded as she grew so of course she never thinks of a family. before she even considered it an option for her she got sent to the hells.

she had no one to care for her enough to look at her and go 'i would love to build a family and future with you' so why the hells would she even dream to wonder that she could be a mom. of course, i think that she would love to be a mother if she finds the right person to do it with. karlach's very good with kids and has a gentle spirit despite her temper. i also truly believe she would be a great mum.

AS FOR HER PARENTS, karlach is named after her dad just with a more feminine spelling to it. his name is caerlack (same pronunciation) and her mother's name is pluck. (im also recently discovering her parents are DEAD IN GAME AND THAT PISSES ME OFF STOP GIVING HER L AFTER L LARIAN DID SHE NOT SUFFER ENOUGH, if i have to change it i will i love breaking canon over my knee)

anyways both her parents loved karlach immensely which was easy considering she was their only kid. they would tell her stories about heroes of baldur's gate past and i think this is what lit the fire under her ass to be the way she is. thewy would always try to encourage her to treat people with kindness but the fantasy racism can only get so far before you go ape shit and you're tired of being nice.

they raised her with good virtues and good values. if karlach brought a friend home of any kind they were treated like family immediately. she favors her dad but won't ever admit it to spare her sweet mother's heart and pride because she loves her more than the world as well (dad's just more fun).

if she were to do anything differently it would probably be getting into less trouble. the older (and bigger) karlach got the more fights she would cause in town. although she always tried to stay on her best behaviour, her rage was far too compelling to let lose after someone tested her. a day ending in her parents disappointment was never fun but she got the honor of defending herself (and her family's name) in the process and she would do it again in a heartbeat.

#bg3 spoliers -- #baldur's gate spoilers -- #please dont look at this if u want no spoilers LMAO #answered #i wrote a fucking novel for this oops #it's literally impossible for me not to write smth less than 2 paragraphs so sorry #headcanon.

[s3xiel4ss]

request where Benny Weir casts a love potion spell on the reader but it doesn't work cause they already like him

Smells Like Trouble ~ benny weir x reader

summary- sure, the whole school's in love with him, but his girl hates him.

tw- thoughts of murder, descriptive homicidal thoughts, this one gets a little dark.

ok so lemme explain this one 😭 in the episode everyone falls in love with him and then everyone hates him, what if it had the opposite effect if they were already in love with him??? also reader is stated as a girl but they can be gender neutral.

established FRIENDSHIP (benny x reader)

You were in class when you smelled the fragrance during class change with your friends. It smelled amazing but that's when you started thinking about how much you hate Benny, somehow you love Ethan though. The thoughts were in your head of how much you hated Benny so much so that you wanted him gone. Meanwhile you saw all of your friends and girls throughout the whole school fawn all over Ethan and Benny. It made you sick, all you wanted to do was choke Benny until the light ran out. You just stayed far away from him until the end of the day. Being in the same building as him was horrible enough.

You were walking in the hallway you saw so many girls piled up there. As you walk past the deranged group of girls you hear his voice. His grating, dorky, annoying, jarring, voice. He tried talking to you, but you wanted to wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze, so you walked past not saying a word. You don't know what caused this sudden anger while everyone else was in love with him. You didn't feel like this about him an hour ago? This horrible, wretched, feeling didn't start until recently. this hatred and coldness couldn't go ignored for long though as you had next period with him. Every moment you thought about him, you would search for something sharp.

These sudden feelings are overwhelming and a shock to you, but the most overwhelming feeling is to go to the kitchen and grab a pizza cutter and slice him with it.

You felt like this the rest of the day, while people's mood changed from love to hatred, yours stayed the exact same. No matter how much you wanted to join every girl on their quest to kill those boys, mostly benny, you stayed home and let out the rage and hatred out in a healthier, legal way.

The next day, after sleeping it off, you felt fine. You felt normal. Back to being hopelessly in love with Benny. Back to being a normal teenager, with no thoughts that would get me in a life sentence. You showed up to school and saw Benny and Ethan at their lockers. You walked over to them, to get an understanding of what happened yesterday.

"Hey.. What happened yesterday? Why was everybody so weird?" You asked them both, confused.

Ethan was quick to respond, "Benny cast a spell."

That alone made you roll your eyes and give Benny an 'are you kidding?' look. Of course he made a spell that made every girl fall in love with them, who in their right mind would actually love one of them? (😍😍🤪🥸🧐🤣🤣) The spell must've had opposite affects on you because you're in love with Benny. That was also why you didn't fall in love with him again at the end of the spell, because there would've been no change anyways. It was the opposite of before.

"Why didn't the potion work on you though? You seemed to be the only one who was like not in love?" Benny had asked, he then realized he felt like he sounded like he was hoping for you to be in love with him, "not like i even care that much but..."

"because it was supposed to make you feel the opposite. I'm already in love with you, so i despised you and wanted to stick a fork in your throat." You explained quickly, not realizing you had just admitted you're in love with him.

Benny looked at you with widened eyes, as Ethan just looks confused. How did Benny not see that coming? Everyone was in love and she despised him? Obviously it was opposite effects on people!

As Ethan rolled his eyes, Benny responded to your accidental confession, "Wait, you're in love with me? Like actually? Is the potion still in the air?" He asks as he looks in the air.

It was your turn to roll your eyes this time, except you rolled your eyes and laughed. You thought it was adorable how geeky and self-conscious he was, "Yes Benny. I love you."

"...Thats how to be a man Ethan." He hits Ethan on the arm as Ethan rolls his eyes and walks away. Benny looks back at you nervously, "I love you too."

#screaming and sobbing 💕 #erm what the sigma #i didn't know how to finish it i got scared #my babysitters a vampire #mbav fluff #benny weir #ethan morgan #my babysitters a vampire x reader #mbav x reader #benny weir x reader #ethan morgan x reader #ilovebennyweir #l4ssies asks! #Bella's asks

[one-winged-dreams]

ALL EVEN NUMBERS FOR AZUL GOOOOO

@sosoftandsweet

GAHHHHH I'M ABOUT TO GO HAM ON THIS LMAO

Was your FO immediately receptive of your advances, or visa versa, or was that something that came with time?

Azul was ambivalent based on his judge of Sol's character. He was damaged goods, so was he even worth interacting with? Should he try to kill him? But he's also fucking insane, and that's kinda fun. Guess I'll just let him hang around if he wants, idfk... And then proceeded to get attached to the point of RAGING jealousy if anyone else fucked with Sol. HE'S the only one allowed to fuck with him dontchaknow. Now he's just super fun to watch and be around, and he's just so damn CUTE, AUUUGH.

No couple is going to agree 100% of the time. What is the main source of any disagreement between you? Is it the same topic for all parties, or do you have different sticking points? Has this ever caused a row?

Sol would never in a million years disagree with Azul, but the shards of rage do flare up from time to time and he's just like "FightmefightmefightmefightMEFIGHTME." but like... In a weird affectionate sort of way? While still being angry? Like, I'M SO ANGRY YOU AREN'T KNOCKING ME TO THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW. And Azul isn't ALWAYS receptive, so Sol would aggressively follow him around, fuming and bonking his head against him askjgh. And either Azul would end up finding it cute, or he'd get angry too and be like "FINE, LET'S GO THROW DOWN, GOD."

Your FO is having an awful day and wants to throw it all in and just give up. It is your job to bring them around and help them believe in themselves again. How do you do it?

Azul absolutely does not give up on anything ever, but he does get moody. Especially back when the Restrictors were a thing. Sol proceeds to make a nuisance of himself asking Azul if there's ANYYYTHING he can do. Anything at all. Please ask me to do something for you. If Azul is feeling up to it, they request either a sparring session or a mission together. Nothing more cathartic than beating people up, even if it's each other.

Last time we asked how quickly your FO came to trust you. This time we want to know: How quickly did you come to trust your FO? Was it an instant thing, or did they have to really work to get through your barriers so you could open yourself up to them completely?

I still am mulling over the timelines, but I want to say Sol "joined" Deepground before Azul, he was just kind of on standby. He was absolutely considered one of the colored Tsviets, the Restrictors just didn't like using him because he was so broken. When Azul came along and he got to interact with him for the first time, the Restrictors kind of had them go at each other for funzies, let's test out the new beast on the scrap project zero suit style. And then Azul ABSOLUTELY managed to bust his lights out. He was quite the scrappy boy, though (no pun intended), and shifted into one of his rage shards, launched himself at Azul, and got knocked back down again. And then got up again. And he got knocked down. And he got up again. Now that song is gonna be stuck in my head. Anyway, he was burning so much mako on top of the mako that was building that he evened out and just collapsed, got laughed at, by Azul, and shard shifted again, but this time with heart eyes. And he was obsessed with him from then on out.

Do you or your FO have any skeletons in the closet? Have they been revealed yet, and if so, what was the reaction of the person learning about the unexpected past events? If not, do you think they will ever be revealed?

They are both literal killing machines made by morally reprehensible experiments. I think the transparency is there based on -gestures vaguely- everything. However, if they were to find each other's files, I think it would go like this.

Sol would obsessively pore over every detail, the fact that Azul was kidnapped by Shinra, killed his kidnappers, and then decided "Wait, I want in on this action" and went BACK to Shinra to volunteer himself would drive him fucking nuts. And the fact that he killed all the other behemoth experiments (minus you lmao) would have his head spinning with adoration. Like, wow, Azul is so strong, only someone so strong could do what he did, I love him I love him I love him I lo-

Azul would find it HILARIOUS that Sol had volunteered himself to a project without knowing the finer details of it. The fact that he basically got trapped into brutal experimentation, the reports of his gradual descent until the sudden absolute sundering of his mind turning him into an aberrant lunatic that killed the ones that had done it to him, and the decision to totally scrap him by handing him off to Deepground because he was too much trouble and not nearly useful enough? What a guy, just an absolute riot. It would probably make him TWICE as fond of him.

#JEEESUS I WENT OFF LMAO #answers #dae! #kiss of a beast

[thelreads]

When twilight says "there wouldn't be any point to that", I think he means "there wouldn't be any point to look into how anya did well." Which I would argue is a silly thing for him to say: after all, she did literally twice as well in classical language as any other subject, and without the spelling mistakes she would have done better. You'd think Twilight would be all over that, saying "ok Anya what about classical language sticks with you and how can we apply that learning style to your other grades?" Instead, he brushes it off.

HOWEVER, while it is a silly thing to say--and honestly out of character for Twilight the spy--it is not out of character for Twiloid the dad. Twilight, for all his overprepared-ness, does not look into Anya's past beyond the surface bits from a third party. Like, yes, he has the documents about her being passed around families in chapter 1. But beyond those documents he never asks her about her past. He didn't know she still remembered her mom until she cried during the interview; he doesn't know how she was treated at the orphanage (he just assumes that she would make friends since she grew up around other kids). Heck, when she messes around in his psychiatrist office in chapter 29, he immediately assumes she's been horrifically traumatized...but he doesn't do any follow up. This latest chapter is just the next example of Loid seeing something about Anya's past ("how did she get so good at classical language"), making an assumption ("well it doesn't matter"), and not following up ("I'm making Anya's favorite for dinner tonight"). And this time, he doesn't even have the excuse of "the mission" for this: Nightfall would never have missed a chance to improve Anya's grades like that--Twilight really is losing his touch.

This isn't to say I'm bashing Loid btw. I think he's thinking along the lines of "I don't want to make Anya's life harder by dredging up the past (after all repression works for me just fine)". I think the fact that he's not doing his usual over-preparedness and isnt following up with Anya is a sign that he cares about her a lot. He doesn't want to talk about the time before they were together, especially if that could make Anya feel bad. It's the same with Yor; he only bugged her for one day and felt such immense guilt over it. I don't think he would survive asking Anya about her dead mom and seeing her cry.

But I'm pretty sure that Endo is building up "Twilight not asking Anya about her past" to eventually bite him in the ass.

Oh I see, and now that I think about it this way I can agree with that. Ever since the first chapter when he had that epiphany about not liking to see a kid crying twilight has created an unspoken bond with Anya, because like her, he also had a rough childhood and he doesn't want to look back, so he can assume she also doesn't want to do the same.

The time he punched the table and pretty much gave up on his mission was another display of that. Now that we know of his mother, seeing Anya crying for hers woke up a burning rage inside of him that only reinforced that idea. He doesn't want her to have to deal with her past, at least not while she's too young to process it correctly.

His human side is winning against his spy side, he refuses to take and measure that would cause Anya some kind of sadness, all because he wants her to have a happy childhood. Probing her past to learn more about her hidden skills would definitely cause her some degree of pain, and he'd rather die than do that to his kid.

Not that she would tell him that she was a lab rat anyway, she still is too on-guard about this topic, but one day she'll tell it to her out of her own volition. In the meantime we can continue to speculate about the details, before one of the scientist from project Apple find her that is.

#inbetween #SXFC42

[feralbeeast]

Hey tumblr, I know I've been a lot more all over the place than usual lately and to all my mutuals and those who followed me for the better fun times I deeply apologise. I try to keep my blog an even mix of me but basically my whole life has been building up more and more trauma and I thought I had escaped adding more onto it but everytime I have hope something or someone shows me exactly why I shouldn't, and for some reason this time around I'm at an extremely low and something isn't letting me get back up yet.

Anyways, I love you all still and even though I'm struggling with existing I hope all of you are doing okay and are healthy and the happiest you can be right now 🖤 that being said after this post I'm going to try to keep the vent posting on here to a minimum since I've been venting a lot more with posts and tags, so I've created a side blog that I won't give the handle to publicly yet but I've just started to vent more on there instead to try to make this blog a safer place again. This is a weird post I know but I'll be leaving a more personal vent in here hidden under the cut feel free to ignore it completely or not I just need to get a bit of this pain off my chest and I'm sorry if you do read it.

to those of you who have stuck around and showed me kindness at any point I truly appreciate every moment of genuine care given even if you ended up hurting me in one way or another. Thank you. 🖤

As always dms and asks are open but understand it might take a while to respond

I'm more hurt than anything, it started with despair and it blended with rage and misery after I put all the pieces together and processed what has happened over these past few weeks, and these feelings are mostly pointed at myself because i let it happen. I saw it coming and i still let it happen.

still, overall at this point I'm more hurt than anything else and I can't understand why. Why did this happen and why didn't i trust my fears and my gut. Why were you able to so easily break down the walls I had been building for years just to do this. Why couldn't I stop you. Why can't I get you out of my head when all it's doing is causing me pain now. Why are you doing this. Why are you still treating me like this. I don't understand how you can't see all the damage you've been doing to me.

Why can't I stop the pain anymore. Why can't I do anything now but self harm and distract. I wish I could just talk to you and tell you everything on my mind so I could get it over with but in reality it won't fix anything I'll still be hurting. Why can't I tell them how they hurt me without it hurting me as well?

I fucking hate that I have so much empathy I can't help but sympathize with everyone who's ever hurt and abused me.

I just wanted someone to care.

now all I want is to stop feeling and dissappear forever

#me #personal #vent #im so sorry to whoever reads this i love you #youre not alone #mental breakdown #mentally ill #cptsd #bpd #depression #anxiety #sh #too much #im sorry #tw #insomnia #i shouldnt be alive #please help #please k1ll me #i cant keep doing this #i need sleep #i need a blunt #i need death #sorry for being depressing #long vent #paranoia #abandoment issues #su1c1dal #feralbeeast ramble

[chosenrule]

All the jokes about Seph’s hair had to have been conceived by men who’ve never had hair longer than 3 inches in their life, bc almost invariably, that’s not how that works, thanks.

#kai su teknon ; see you in hell punk // writer speak. #there's these magic things called drain covers #v alien I know #also? no one uses a whole bottle of shampoo and conditioner in one sitting #no one #especially not when one's hair looks baby fucking fine #I would also make a snide remark about 'that's just what happens #when you actually take care of your hair' but uh #I don't know for sure that that isn't just American men who don't #bc and I'm quoting a straight man I overheard once ''conditioner is gay'' #so we'll just set that one neatly aside huh #anyway this is just something that's been causing me to build rage over the past bit #you cannot see Seph content without seeing at least 4 of these jokes

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi :) I was wondering if you’d be open to writing something about Tommy and baby Shelby going to see Alfie. With season 5 Alfie trying to hide his scars because he thinks she’d be scared but she just cuddles into him. I get if this is weird or too specific😅

Protected

“Remember what we talked about eh?” Tommy says to his youngest sibling as he tugs open the door on her side of the car. (y/n) Shelby takes her brothers outstretched hand to help her jump down out of the car that was a little too high up for her to manage to climb out by herself. “Yes Tommy.” She responds, skipping off in front of him to the big heavy front door of the building they were going into. The little girl leans against the door to very little avail as it barely even budges until Tommy reaches the door too and pushes it open with one strong arm.

He steps very firmly in front of (y/n) in the lobby of the building to prevent her running off again, and crouches down to her height with both hands placed firmly on her small upper arms to hold her still. “You stay right next to me okay?” He repeats, “And stay quiet yeah? I’ll try and be as quick as i can.” (y/n) smiles in response, “And then we can go to the sweet shop?”

Tommy nods and gives his little sister a soft smile before he stands up straight and takes her hand tightly in his. His littlest sister is so fearless and unaware of the dangers of the life she was dropped into that it always gives Tommy a sense of relief in some ways. It was almost like a form of escapism. Bouncing between Polly, John, Arthur, Charlie, and Tommy had made her life very different from most, even from Tommy’s young son. It would be incredibly safe to say that it was a shock when Polly Gray had entered into the betting shop in Watery Lane holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. They were all incredibly confused and very soon learned that Arthur Shelby Senior had shown up on the doorstep with another child he wasn’t interested in raising. She was an accidental one who’s mother died in childbirth and the deadbeat father had been gifted with yet another little life to let down.

Of course it became very important for Tommy that the baby girl did not experience the same kind of sheer let down that their father had given to all of them. He named sweet little (y/n) on that evening 6 and a half years ago. He felt like he was completely aimless and useless at that time. He had decided not to go after Grace and that lost love was weird for him after finally having it. Then that beautiful, quiet, warm and sweet little girl was placed into his arms and held tightly onto his finger and suddenly, his world and his love seemed to hold new meaning.

She was his muse, his greatest love and his favourite little sidekick.

“Tommy fuckin’ Shelby.” Alfie rumbles out, his back to the door as he faces out his balcony. “That’s a bad word, Tommy.” (y/n) chides in a whisper as she looks up cautiously at her elder brother. Tommy offers her small hand a gentle squeeze and nods his head, but promptly turns his head back to the man holding a gun at the window. “And you’ve brought your mini protégé, i see.”

Alfie turns half of his face, only his good half, to see the sweet little wave from the youngest Shelby sibling. “Alfie, this is my sister; (y/n).” Tommy introduces, hoping his willingness to divulge his sisters name would move Alfie away from the subject as quickly as possible so that they could talk about what he was really there to talk about and then he could take his sister and go quickly. He didn’t like her having to be involved in these things, he always feared it would bring her into the line of fire. “Mhm,” Alfie grumbles, “Last time i saw you, you was only about this big-” He gestures with his hand only a few feet off the floor, “Couldn’t speak much, either.” The Londoner adds, eyes slightly narrowed. The 6 year old tilts her head to the side.

“I can speak a lot now, Mister Solomons.” She says, somewhat proudly. The burly man laughs, not his usual sinister or mocking way. “I can see that.” He hums in response, eyes moving from the little girl to Tommy when he clears his throat heavily to draw attention back to him. “If we could, Alfie, I’d like to talk business.” Alfie nods his head in response, gesturing with his hand to the couch across the room. Tommy let’s go of his sisters hand to sit down on the couch, the little girl doing her best to climb up beside him with only a little help from her brother. Alfie sits on the chair across from them. Tommy knows there had to be significant damage to the side of the man’s face after the injury he sustained from the bullet fired out of Thomas’s gun. There was almost no way he escaped that unscathed.

“I’m going to kill a facist, Alfie. And i need some men.”

The words from Tommy prompt Alfie to rather abruptly turn his head, somewhat shocked by the words, but more shocked by the fact the 6 year old little girl was completely unbothered by the words her brother had spoken. The pre-school aged girl simply continues fiddling with the pocket watch Tommy gave to her. She looks to be dismantling it with a very distinctive focus that reminds Alfie she is a Shelby, and she might fully be aware of how to kill him already.

“A facist ey?” Alfie repeats, his eyebrows raised. “Politics got to you, Thomas?” Tommy rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette. “I need some men.” Tommy adds, making Alfie scoff. “Oh you do, do you? And you want mine?”

Tommy merely nods his head.

In his discussion with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Alfie had not forgotten the presence of the 6 year old on the couch, but it had fallen away from the forefront focus of his mind as he debated the thought of lending men to a Shelby’s cause. In doing so, he turned his head in thought and a little noise of awe left the youngest Shelby. Tommy and Alfie both direct their attention straight to her.

The little girl scoots herself off the couch and Tommy reaches for her arm, but just misses. She trods right up to the huge London gangster and tilts her head. “What happened?” She asks softly. Alfie shifts uncomfortably on the couch he sits on, running his finger absentmindedly over the scarring of his face. “Got shot.” Alfie responds, Tommy clears his throat heavily and almost awkwardly in knowing he was the one who had given Alfie Solomons his facial scarring. (y/n) tilts her little head in awe as she clambers up onto the couch next to him.

“Looks cool.” She mutters in awe.

Most look at him in some kind of shock or horror even. Some with sympathy thinking it had come from the war and some with fear knowing where it had really come from. But few with the kindness and curiosity of the 6 year old standing on his good couch.

“Does it hurt?” She asks quietly. Alfie shrugs.

“Depends.”

That’s when her little hand reaches forward to trace over the scarring with an almost feather light child’s touch as she stands there on the couch, her hands are cold and gentle over the markings that no one has touched since his last hospital appointment.

“Her mother’s daughter.”

Alfie flicks his eyes back over to a now standing Thomas as he reaches forward to lift his sister up into his arms where she sits on his hip with little furrowed eyebrows and a purse on her lips. Alfie’s residual aching cheekbone pain has faded to nearly non-existent for the first time he can soberly remember. He knows that Tommy knows this by the look in his eyes and the way in which he notes his prior statement before he gathered his sister.

“She’s sweet.” Alfie nods, standing to his feet. As softened as both men may be by the child in the room, Alfie does not like sitting as Tommy Shelby towers over him whether the man is an ally or not. “Polly says i get it from Tommy.” (y/n) chimes. Alfie raises his eyebrows with a grin that makes Tommy roll his eyes at the retired gangster. “Oh do you now?” Alfie hums, opening his mouth to speak again when Tommy cuts him off. “You go ahead to the car (y/n), eh? I’ll meet you down there in just a minute okay?”

The six year old nods and runs off the moment her feet hit the ground. Tommy turns to Alfie immediately.

“If you ever-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Mom.” Alfie rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a beaming grin. “Little miss Shelby has you whipped, mate. Tell me, what’s your favourite apron you wear at home eh Thomas?” He chuckles heartily, making Tommy glower in rage at his teasing. “I’m fucking serious, Alfie.” He growls. Alfie straightens up and stops laughing immediately.

His eyes narrow for a split second and he tilts his head, his eyes searching the depth of Tommy’s cerulean blues and immediately noticing the sheer panic and worry that lies deep within them, attempting to hide under brotherly protective instinct and rage at the prospect of harm falling on his little sister. Alfie inhales deeply. He would truly never dream of harming a child. It’s not in his nature, nor does it sit well with him. And though he had been quick to give the head of the Peaky Blinders a reality check in the past regarding the safety of his son, in the end he had no idea Charlie Shelby had been taken and he never would have arranged for that to happen.

Alfie nods his head and leans forward. “She’s special to you, yeah?” Tommy doesn’t know why Alfie asks. He’s sure it’s clearer than he wants it to be, but alas the Londoner asks anyway and Tommy doesn’t know exactly how to answer, so he simply makes a motion something akin to a nod though looks more like a twitch of his chin. “Mhm, I can tell. You can have the men. I’m sure you know the price.” Alfie turns away. Tommy doesn’t know what it was in Alfie’s eyes that reassured him more than words ever could that he wouldn’t lay harm on the 6 year old little girl who treated him with more respect and kindness in the ten minutes she spoke to him that anyone had in years. There was an element of brotherly protectiveness that Alfie felt only after knowing her a short time.

“And Tommy?”

“Yes, Alfie?” The Birmingham MP turns back as he leaves the doorway of Alfie’s sitting room.

“Anything ever happens to the kid, you fuckin’ let me know yeah?”

Tommy nods his head, the ghost of a smile somewhat on his face. His little sister is just about as protected as they come, and there was a distinct feeling of certainty that Alfie Solomons was there, lurking in the shadows of existence with a familial fondness of the little Shelby girl who carries the glow of an angel above her head that would ensure no men, from Birmingham or further afield would have to go through every Solomons and Shelby loyal man up and down the country before a hair on (y/n) Shelby’s head was messed. Tommy holds hope somewhere deep in his heart that his little sister will never have to see violence aimed at her, and that for as long as she lives she knows that she is instantaneously loved, dearly held in every heart and ferociously protected by some of Britain’s most dangerous men.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sister reader #shelby!reader #baby!shelby #baby shelby #alfie solomons x baby!shelby #alfie solomons platonic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders blurb

[koushisatori]

if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us

kyoutani x gn!reader

genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort

warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication

word count: 5.4k

note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)

In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you

You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you

He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury

Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary

Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship

cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you

So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely

But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,

on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,

Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!

So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday

Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them

You don't get a second alone with him until school ends

you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance

There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit

he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return

''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him

''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''

''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features

all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag

''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you

You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''

''Tsk'', he moves to leave

you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket

from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)

once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )

Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause

you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes

Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)

If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer

Which is easier said than done

The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning

you still had hope left

You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off

The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system

It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved

as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship

that's the conclusion your brain came up with

You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself

knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series

once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping

you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)

In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)

after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips

he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him

(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)

Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions

after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)

If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful

Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown

Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]

For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…

The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you

break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now

so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type

You: No.

You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?

You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn

Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?

Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.

''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.

Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.

While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.

The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.

His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.

''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.

After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?

What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.

After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.

From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year

Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.

Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.

At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.

Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.

There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.

Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.

To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.

She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-

''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.

''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.

After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.

All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.

After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.

For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.

It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.

You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''

As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.

''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''

Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.

''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.

Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.

You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.

''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.

Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.

''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.

Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kyoutani x reader #kyoutani x y/n #kyoutani x you #seijoh x reader #aoba josai x reader #mad dog x reader #eeeeh i hope I didn't forget anything #tw jealousy #cw jealousy #???? #y/n lowly humming the you kinda smell like a baka sound and he just </3 #deserved though

[alisonsfics]

an actual hero

pairing: bucky barnes x reader (little bit of biker!bucky)

summary: you’ve been john walker’s girlfriend since high school. he’s the only man you’ve ever loved, but that may change when a certain serum causes him to risk your life.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: tfatws spoilers, violence, choking (in a violent, not sexual manner), concussion, passing out, john walker going on a rampage

You saw the news and you were instantly worried. There was a big fight going down with the Flag-smashers. Then you saw him.

John.

Your boyfriend since high school.

Your second half.

He was there, fighting against the Flag-smashers. You both had butted heads over the Flag-smashers issue. You agreed with their goals, but just thought they were approaching it the wrong way. John disagreed. He hated them, truly hated them.

You didn’t blame him after what happened to Lemar, but you had never seen this kind of rage in him. He was consumed by it. You assumed that Lemar’s death and the pressure to be a good Captain America were taking a toll on him.

You knew you had to stop him. The news showed him fighting with the kind of rage that made your skin crawl. You knew you had stop him before he made an irreversible mistake.

You raced down there as fast as you could. You found John instantly. He grabbed one of the Flag-smashers by the neck and held them up against the wall. His feet dangled helplessly below them. John held him up in the air with virtually no effort. He seemed strong, too strong.

“John! You have to stop this” you yelled at him, trying to deescalate the situation. He was shocked to hear your voice. He dropped his grip and turned to face you.

By now, you had gained the attention of Sam and Bucky, who were confused about the mysterious woman who had just appeared.

You hoped he would turn to see you and recognize that he had gone too far. Instead, you only saw anger in his eyes when he looked at you. The Flag-smasher ran away from John, past you. “You’re letting him get away” John said, trying to run past you.

You stepped into his path, putting your hands on his chest. “Please, John. You’re taking this too far” you begged him to stop. You didn’t see any sign of hesitance in his eyes before he shoved you into the road.

You fell to your knees on the rough pavement. You could already tell that you had cut up your hands as you tried to soften your fall. You quickly stood up, not wanting to be in the road when a car drove by.

You still had Bucky’s attention. He was still confused about how you knew John. Him and Sam both watched as you picked yourself up off the ground.

Then, you were blinded by a pair of headlights. One of the armored trucks was coming straight for you. You froze.

You felt every muscle in your body go still. You fought to get your legs to move, so you could run away. Your body stayed firm in its place.

“She’s not moving” Bucky mumbled, before running towards you. His whole body slammed into you, as he pushed you out of the street. You got the wind knocked out of you, and you landed flat on your back on the hard concrete.

Bucky came crashing down on top of you. It took you a few seconds to realize what had just happened. Your senses were on overdrive.

You looked at the unfamiliar man above you who was staring straight back at you. You knew him from the news, but you had never met him. “Are you okay?” He asked you, carefully. You were still in shock, so you nodded your head.

“You just saved my life” you said, breathlessly. He just gave you a small smile, before rolling himself off of you. He winced and got up on his feet. You felt him grab your hands as he helped you stand up.

You felt light-headed as soon as you stood up; you felt a throbbing pain in the back of your head. “Wait...my head kind of—” you started to say before you blacked out.

Bucky panicked as he watched you start to go limp. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you up. He swept his arm under your legs, picking you up bridal style.

When you opened your eyes again, you realized you were on a stretcher inside of an ambulance. You looked around, trying to take in your surroundings.

The ambulance wasn’t moving, and the back doors were open. You saw a paramedic sitting next to you; they were taking notes on a clipboard. Then, you saw Bucky on your other side. He wore a concerned expression.

“You’re awake” he said, softly as his eyes met yours. He seemed slightly less concerned. “I don’t understand. What happened?” You asked, confused.

He noticed your panicked look and took your hand in his. “Do you remember the truck in the street?” He asked you, slowly. You nodded your head, bits and pieces starting to come back to you. “When I pushed you out of the way, you hit your head on the sidewalk. You got a concussion, and then you passed out” he told you.

His thumb subconsciously started to rub back and forth on the back of your hand. Both your eyes went to your hand in his, but neither of you made an effort to move your hands away.

The paramedic turned her attention towards you. “I completed a test, and you’re fine. You have a concussion. Just make sure you get some rest and drink lots of water. You’re good to go” she told you, giving you a polite smile.

“Here let me help” Bucky said, helping you sit up on the stretcher. He kept his hands on yours as you carefully stepped out of the ambulance. “I’m Bucky, by the way” he said, smiling at you.

You felt a school-girl smile appear on your face. “I’m Y/N. Thanks for saving my life” you said, bashfully. Then, another man walked up towards the two of you. You recognized him as Sam.

“Y/N, this is Sam” Bucky said, introducing the two of you. You smiled at him and shook his hand. “Are you okay? I saw Walker push you in the way of that truck. How do you know him anyway?” Sam asked you, curiously.

You noticed he was wearing his Captain America suit. You had only ever seen him in the Falcon suit before. You wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but you knew he was a better fit for the job than John.

“I’m fine; it’s just a concussion. John is my boyfriend or was my boyfriend. Risking my life might just be a small dealbreaker” you joked, trying to lighten the situation. In reality, you wanted to punch John in the face. You had stood my his side for years, and this is how he repaid you.

They both lightly chuckled at your joke. Then, as if on cue, John came marching over. “There you are. We’re going home” he said, grabbing your arm. You struggled to pull your arm away. He had always been strong, but he was stronger now.

“Get your hands off of me” you said, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp. Within a second, Bucky had pried John’s fingers off of you. “She told you to keep your hands to yourself” Bucky said, bending his fingers backwards until he winced.

Then, he finally let go. He put his hand on your forearm. “You okay?” He asked you, softly. You just nodded your head, too scared to say a word in front of John.

“What the hell is going on here? You think you can just swoop in and steal my girl?” John asked, starting to walk towards you and Bucky. Sam quickly got between John and you.

“We fought you once, and you lost. You want to try again?” Sam taunted. John crossed his arms. “This is between me and my girlfriend” he snarled.

Bucky also shielded you from John. “I’m pretty sure that girls don’t stay with boyfriends who almost get them killed” Bucky said, keeping one hand on yours.

You felt safe behind Bucky. You had just met him, but he was very protective. You knew that he wouldn’t let John anywhere near you.

John huffed, his telltale sign that he was giving up. He walked away from the three of you. “Why did you ever stay with a guy like that? He’s kind of awful” Sam asked you. You shook your head. “He didn’t use to be like that. He used to care” you told them, watching as John walked away.

“Why is he...so strong?” You asked, barely able to find the words. It was the thing you had been struggling with since you saw him fighting that Flag-smasher. Something didn’t feel right. “They took a blood sample and found out he took the serum” Bucky told you.

You were stunned. “Like the super-soldier serum?” You asked, still in shock. They both nodded.

You scoffed to yourself. “He used to talk about much he hated super soldiers. He said real heroes didn’t need a special potion to make them strong” you said, only now seeing his hypocritical nature.

“You should get some rest. Do you need a ride?” Bucky offered. You ignored the smirk that Sam sent his way. “That would be great” you said, smiling.

Bucky hugged Sam and then walked past him. “The suit looks great, Cap” you said, as you walked past him. Bucky led you over to a motorcycle.

“Why am I not surprised?” You asked, giggling. He turned around to face you, and pretended to be offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, smirking at you. You shrugged. “You have the whole biker aesthetic: the leather jacket, the boots, the withering stare” you teased.

He chuckled as he picked the helmet up off the seat. “Here. No more concussions” he said, tightening the strap once he put it on your head. You told him the name of your apartment building. He nodded before you even told him the address.

“I grew up in Brooklyn. I know where it is” he said, getting on his bike. He patted the seat behind him and you swung your leg over the back. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his waist, and rested your head on his back.

He turned on the ignition, and it roared to life. You gave him a thumbs up to tell him you were ready. Soon, you were driving down the streets of Brooklyn.

You expected it to be fast and daring, but instead, it was peaceful. You watched the city whipping past you: the taxi cabs, the street performers, and the illuminated billboards.

He pulled up to your apartment in a matter of minutes. He helped you off the bike and took the helmet off your head. You shoved your hands in your pockets because you didn’t really know what else to do with them.

“Thank you—for everything, I mean” you said, shyly. Bucky hesitated. You could tell he wanted to say something, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

He fiddled with the straps of his leather jacket, nervously toying with them. “I know we just met, but would you like go get dinner sometime?” Bucky asked you. The smile on your face grew ten times bigger. “I’d really like that” you said, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

He was shocked, but eventually kissed you back. He lips tasted like cinnamon. You could feel him smiling as you kissed him. His fingers hooked in your belt loops and pulled you closer to him.

You both pulled away with smiles on your face. He gave you a small piece of paper with his phone number on it.

As he drove away on his motorcycle with you waving from the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but want to thank Dr. Raynor for encouraging him to let people into his life.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @azghedaheda @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @bookfrog242 @sunwardsss @studentville-struggles @impossibleapricotlampbat @infjkiki @weirdfishy @lickmymelaninn @hailey-a-s @andreasworlsboring101 @glassesandthunderthighs @holding-on-to-my-youth @fanofalltheficsx @lukes-orange-beanie @golden-hoax @mostly-marvel-musings @madisondelstan @spookyparadisesheep @v-is-obsessive @i-wish-i-knew-what-i-was @reniescarlett @multiplums @alotofrandomfangirling @bbl32 @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan @mylifeiscrazy0423 @spid3rgwen @velyssaraptor @supernaturaldisco @bucnananbitch @shyconversationalbookworm @ivegotparticulartaste @chauntaayyy @vicmc624

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

Requests OPEN

#Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes reader insert #Bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel reader insert #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #spoilers #taglist open #requests open #biker!bucky #biker!bucky barnes

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ��I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

[phone] : whose car is in our parking spot?

[phone] : did you already move on?

[phone] : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

[phone] : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

[phone] : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

[phone] : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

[phone] : don’t try to run

[phone] : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

[phone] : i know who you are

[phone] : i'll be there in 20

[phone] : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

[tooruluv]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee​ <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour. 

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat. 

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal. 

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name. 

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything. 

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy. 

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked. 

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories. 

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead. 

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes. 

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything. 

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same. 

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was. 

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that). 

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day. 

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing. 

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect. 

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea. 

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy. 

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class. 

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else. 

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting. 

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with. 

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity. 

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath. 

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy. 

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

 I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools. 

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger. 

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt. 

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight. 

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself. 

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder. 

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in. 

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.” 

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

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