#let me just reach out to them about surface level shit

[whimsycore]

Being told you talk to much when you stress talk because you’re actively being beat down in every aspect of your life and you finally feel you have a safe person to go to and just have it thrown back in your face is a feeling I don’t wish on anyone. I think I’m just gonna stop talking to everyone because I don’t know who I can trust.

[xoxojisu]

DOES HE LIKE ME?

synopsis: it's hard to tell whether kirishima likes you or you're just delusional and crazy. (<3)

notes: RAHHHH KIRISHIMA

you think kirishima is nice.

and not just the kind of nice that gives polite smiles that don’t reach their eyes or asks how your day went out of courtesy.

he’s the kind of nice that beams when you walk into a room, like he's genuinely happy to see you. like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. the kind that actually wants to hear about your day, listens attentively, and remembers the little things you say weeks later. the kind that makes you feel seen and cared for.

he’s not just nice, though. he’s kind. his heart feels like something soft and steady. warm, like sunlight in the winter. he’s the kind of person who makes the air feel lighter just by being around.

you like kirishima.

he’s sweet. he’s driven. he has this way of making people feel like they belong. he notices things most people don’t, too. like when your hands are cold or when your voice sounds just a little off.

he offers you his hoodie without you having to ask, always drives you home and walks you to the door. when he can't, he always says, “text me when you’re home, okay?” in that sincere, slightly worried way of his.

he encourages you like he means it. like he actually believes you can do amazing things. and somehow, he makes you start believing it too.

he comforts you just right when you cry. big, strong arms that make you feel like maybe the world isn’t so scary. and when he compliments you, it’s never just about how you look, or other random surface-level tidbits. it’s about things that matter. things you didn’t even know he noticed.

he makes you want to be better. for yourself. for him. for the version of you he seems to see already.

kirishima really is nice.

but honestly? that’s the problem.

because kirishima being so nice means he's nice to everyone.

he holds the door open for you, yeah, but he holds it for every person coming in behind you, too. he hugs you tightly when you’re laughing at something stupid, but he also throws himself at bakugo when he wins a spar. he compliments you on your work, your strength, your progress, but he does the same for mina, sero, kaminari.

so, are you special? or are you just delusional?

you think he must like you when he throws his arm around your shoulders during movie night. when he leans in close and whispers dumb commentary that makes you giggle. when his knee touches yours and he doesn’t pull away.

but then you see the way he is with everyone else. the double high-fives. the bright encouragements. the constant attention.

and it drives you insane. especially on nights when you can’t sleep. when you’re tossing in bed, overthinking every moment.

is he just that kind of guy? are you special? ugh, you don't know!

-

“great job, y/n! you’re seriously improving like crazy!” kirishima runs up to you, grinning from ear to ear.

it’s a hero training day, so everyone’s in costume. which, for him, means… basically shirtless. his abs are fully out, and his hero gear leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

you try not to stare. really, you do.

but his abs are ridiculous. like, sculpted-by-the-gods levels of ridiculous. and it’s not even just that they’re attractive! though, let’s be honest, they are. it’s the fact that you know how hard he’s worked for them.

it’s not just vanity. his whole body is a reflection of his drive. his passion. his determination to be strong enough to protect people.

it’s hot. unreasonably so.

you're still staring when you realize kirishima’s voice has trailed off mid-sentence.

your stomach drops. shit. you were definitely caught staring.

panic floods your system as you slowly lift your eyes to meet his, expecting him to look uncomfortable. weirded out. maybe even disappointed in you.

but then your gaze meets his.

oh.

he’s blushing. hard. like, cheeks-the-same-color-as-his-hair kind of blushing.

he opens his mouth, closes it again, then laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“u-um... like i was saying, you’re seriously..! uh.. wait, what was i saying again?”

you blink.

he looks flustered. visibly flustered. but there’s still a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. like he’s embarrassed. but also… kinda happy?

he shakes his head and then, very softly, says, “it’s, uh… kinda hard to focus when you look at me like that, y’know?”

your heart lurches.

and suddenly, it clicks.

he does hold the door open for others, yeah, but he runs to you right after.

he’s touchy with everyone, sure but with you, it’s different. slower. softer. intentional.

he gives compliments like candy, yes, but the ones he gives you? they’re layered. specific. personal. like he really pays special attention to you.

he’s watching. he’s listening.

you like kirishima eijirou.

but it turns out that kirishima eijirou might like you too.

masterlist

[plutodexay]

Thunderbolts* Headcannons

Them asking you out on a date and how they would go about doing it!

Includes Bucky, Ava, Walker, Yelana, and Bob! In that order

⋆˙⟡Bucky⟡˙⋆

He would be awkward but weridly confident. Like he would need to pysch himself up in the corner before walking over to you but would also have the idea that theres no universe in which you'll say no to him.

Its not the most romantic thing, he didn't bring flowers or a gift but he has that old timey mindset of how to do these things and that comes heavily into play.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me?" Bucky asked, a smirk on his face that for once showed no malice.

"Dinner?" You could feel your eyebrows furrowing at the simple question. Bucky was mostly distant with you, making this honestly a somewhat scary situation, but also an exciting one.

"I like you." His hand reached out to grab yours, the warm skin a contrast from what you'd expected. "And I would like to treat you to a nice evening if you'd let me." Emphasizing his words by bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into the back of it. You knew what your answer was.

⋆˙⟡Ava⟡˙⋆

Something tells me she'd be waiting for you to ask her first, like she would be secretly staring at you and trying to egg on conversations that could potentially lead to the two of you being alone together.

If she did end up asking first, it would be out of despration or a slight outburst in the middle of a conversation. Asking is hard but she also doesn't want to risk you getting with someone else or leaving.

"I mean I have the reservation, I'll probably just ask some random tinder match to go with me ya know?" Yelena laughed along with you at your words, the topic of this stupid gifted reservation on valentines day driving you insane.

"Could take me." Ava muttered, face strained in annoyance as she stood by the both of you.

"Sorry say that again?" You asked, trying to make sure you heard her right, and you really hoped you did.

"Take me." Ava said louder this time, a tone of anger in her voice. "I'm right here, more than willing to have all the cringe romance shit you could just take me."

"I'd love to." Her face turned to one of pure shock, matching Yelenas similar expression. "You'd be the perfect date."

⋆˙⟡Walker⟡˙⋆ (Im still in the constant changing opinion of this man but I am a women of giving daydream ideas to people so enjoy)

I don't even think he asks. He's full of that surface level confidence that slowly fades the more comfortable he gets around you. His pride is intense so he just doesn't ask, he tells you.

Even with this he'll get visbily excited when you don't say no. He has an extra kick in his step when he walks away from you after it. You can't point it out until much later in the relationship which by then he'll admit to rehearsing it all in a mirror the nigth before.

"You me the park at 7pm tomorrow." John said as he walked up to you, no hello's or anything else.

"Oh yea?" You chuckled as you watched his smirk faulter at your pushback for just a moment.

"Yea, you have a problem with that." He took a step closer, keeping eye contact with you seemingly attempting to challenge you to push him furhter. You weren't going to, you knew that but the fact that he did not for these few seconds made it much more fun for you.

"I'll be there." You broke the silence, and all you got was a nod from him as he turned to walk away, watching as he walked as if he'd had multiple shots of expresso hilariously.

⋆˙⟡Yelena⟡˙⋆

Oh so stereotypical for some reason. Once she knows she wants you she will be getting you and that is the end of the discussion. She'd ask you while handing you a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers wrapped in perfectly tied ribbon.

It'll be done in private to, a timed place where nobody could dare to interupt. She wants it to be perfect even if its just a first date and she will make it painfully so. She won't have anything planned for the actual date though, wanting to get your opinion on it before hand.

"Is there any reason why we're out here?" You said aloud, looking around the quiet park. This specific spot you were in had nobody running around it, you could hear the rest of them off in the distance yet here and now it was just you two.

"I wanted peace and quiet so I could ask you." Yelena's tone was serious but her face gave off hints of excitment. You watched as she ducked below the bench to pull out of bundle of flowers. "For you." She extended the flowers towards you, waiting with a smile until you grabbed them.

"Why?" You could feel the confusion on your face as you switched focus between the flowers and her.

"I would like to take you out on a date if you'd let me." Now she was nervous, you could hear it but god was it endearing.

"Please do."

⋆˙⟡Bob⟡˙⋆

Sleepily, its the only time he has enough confidence. You two would be resting in the common space after a mission, everyone else had left to go to their own rooms but you two always watched something before doing so.

He'd be half asleep bundled under a big blanket on the couch next to you when he'd ask. Saying he'd been thinking about it for ages and would really like to start sharing couches. Falls asleep the moment you agree but thankfully remembers in the morning.

"We should share a couch one day." Bob mumbled, words coming out at the right commercial break.

"Yea?" You chuckled, pushing your own blankets down enough to get a view of his red but bundled face in the tv's light.

"Mhm." He hummed, eyes closed and shifting further down into the cushions. "If we go out on a date we could do it." A smile grew on his face, imagining that scenario.

"I'd like that." You responded, watching him grin adorbly. "If you'd like." You added, knowing his tired mind races from him often enough that it can and has become an issue.

"Zoo date?" He whispered, prying his eyes open to look at you with baited breath for a response that wouldn't ruin the moment.

"Zoo date."

[mysicklove]

Toddlers are known to look at their caregivers to see how they should react when they trip and fall. Even if the stumble of their wobbly legs doesn’t hurt them, in many cases, they will still cry if their guardians fuss over them. Although, if the adult doesn’t give them a time of day usually the little beasts get up and go back to playing with their friends.

This phenomenon is pretty common for the toddler you raise. The small child seemed to master how to react during certain situations depending on who is watching him, you or his wicked older brother.

The three of you go to the park where Yuuji runs around the playground, letting out giggles and squeals when Nobara and Megumi play tag with him. You somehow drift off on Sukunas shoulder on a nearby bench, closing your eyes and slumping against your boyfriend, content with the fact that he has his eye on the reckless child.

As to be aspected, Yuuji, after being warned very harshly by his “doting” brother to go slow when going down the steps of the playground, ignores the caution and sprints down the stairs only to miss a step and fall straight to the bark. It wasn’t a hard fall — his legs collapsed beneath him, and he landed on his knees with a plop. No harm, no injuries, mostly just shock of him falling a couple feet into the bark.

The first thing he does is look toward you, unconsciously questioning if he is about to cry out from the pain so that you can pick him up and coddle him. But he can’t catch your sleeping gaze and instead finds himself face-to-face with Sukuna.

His brother only raises an eyebrow at him, shaking his head as if to say “i dare you to cry right now”. The two of them make eye contact for longer than necessary, silent communication, and Yuuji sniffles, gulps, and slowly gets up before going back to playing.

The elder Itadori puts his hand in front of your eyes, blocking out the sun from disturbing your sleep and continues to watch his younger brother walk much more carefully up and down the playground. It was good to not coddle the boy; Sukuna didn’t want Yuuji to grow up spoiled; he was to be a man, strong just like him.

But of course, Sukuna happened to be raising him with you, a person with the biggest soft spot for the child. And so when you wake up from your nap, and Sukuna calls the boy over to leave, you notice the tiny piece of bark sticking out of the boy's leg. It was surface level — Yuuji didn’t even notice it, but still, the image looked much more gruesome than it was really.

You gasp and begin to fuss over his “injured” leg, asking the boy if he tripped and fell if he was hurt at all if he was okay. And suddenly, to Yuuji, it seemed that maybe that fall did hurt a little too bad. Maybe he wasn't okay like he thought.

Tears begin to well up in his eyes.

“Don’t you give me that shit. You’re fine. You tripped like five minutes ago, and I know it didn’t hurt.”

Yuuji shakes his head, ignoring his brother and rubbing his eyes while he looks up at you. “O-Owie…” he whines, rubbing at his knee.

“Poor thing, did you hurt yourself? I’m sorry baby, I wasn’t watching.” He reaches his hands up to you, and you scoop him up while he begins to cry into your neck.

It was a fake cry, obviously enough. It makes the elder Itadoris mouth hang open. “You little liar!”

“Don’t be mean, Sukuna.” You say, teasing him because you realized quickly enough that the boys “cries” didn’t produce any liquid from his eyes. You didn’t mind spoiling the boy either way.

Sukuna, realizing you also understood, lets out a dramatic groan, shaking his head before exclaiming, “Why am I surrounded by weaklings?!”

You just laugh at him, thinking about to a few years earlier during highschool. Sukuna was the one who would dramatize his pain whenever he got in a fight. You would listen to his whines (after he profusely exclaimed that he won by a longshot) over a busted lip and a black eye while you would fuss over him, just as you are doing to Yuuji.

He got into a lot of fights during highschool because Sukuna could never get enough of you fretting over him. He liked when you played nurse and coddled him, way too similar to the way you cooed at Yuuji.

The two of them, although Sukuna would never admit it, are way too similar. Both are strong and independent boys who happen to turn into whiny, attention-seeking puppies when you are around.

[nutmegtales]

Alive Again - Part 9

It turns out Jason didn’t have to wait for an interrogation after all, as the night went on Danny found himself feeling drowsy but giddy from the day. He found himself chatting, and it had been such a long time since he’d had someone to actually talk to, to vent to. Sure, he had subjects and court ghosts that ran around his kingdom and would stand there while Danny talked at them, but none of them gave a Shit beyond pleasing their Great One. It was the title they cared about, not Danny himself.

And so, with Jason’s encouragement he had talked while the other boy listened and tried to keep his rage from boiling over. He talked about being king, about his kingdom and responsibilities, and the expectations that had been thrust upon him, about how he had won the position in combat against Pariah. About losing his family and friends, not the details but enough to just... let some of it out.

He talked about the GIW and the few stints he did in their labs when he was still a kid, at that point Jason had needed to go hit something before he could hear more. Strangely Danny felt a little vindicated at that. It had been a long time since anyone had been so rightfully outraged on his behalf.

And then he had talked about Phantom, about the days when he hadn’t understood himself, hadn’t understood the ghosts, about how he had fought for amity park. How he’d felt responsible because of his family, because of the portal.

He talked about the portal. And how he’d died.

He’d died. Danny had died. I mean yeah of course, Jason had assumed the Ghost king was dead but he hadn’t thought about how. Or when.

He’d been a kid, barely in his teens and he had died. Jason felt numb has he listened to Danny recount his death. As he listened to what it was like to feel an industrial level of electricity burn through him and fry him alive while ectoplasm flooded his dying cells reviving them just as fast as they burned out and died.

He felt nothing as he listened to how Danny had lost track of time as every piece of his body got ripped apart and put back together over and over and over again until the machine, the portal, had finally short circuited and shut off.

He looked at the ghost of Lichtenberg scars that ran up Danny’s limbs, felt them beneath his cautious fingers as he realised the strange writhing glow of Danny’s Ghost King form was actually a reflection of these scars.

Jason knew he should be feeling. Rage, sadness, disgust. Something. He should be distraught, or sorrowful, or outraged. He could sense the churning emotions somewhere just beyond his reach, his stomach tied in knots, and his throat thick with emotion he couldn’t feel.

He looked at Danny, assessed him with a trained eye, and saw that the exuberant chatty boy had dulled into a listless shade of himself, numbly recounting these atrocities. It wasn’t Jason’s emotions refusing to come to the surface he realised, but another affect of the Ghost Kings powers. Muting not just his own emotions in defence of what his voice was recounting, but Jason’s too.

Well. That’s enough of that. “Hey" Jason reached out to palm Danny’s cheek, running his thumb back and forth over the sharp bone there. His heart just about melted as Danny turned into the touch, his eyes closing with a deep shuddering breath drawn from his lungs.

Fucking hell. Jason suddenly did feel again, thankfully not the turbulent emotions he’d expected to drown him, but the desperate yearning he knew all too well. The need to feel the warmth of someone you trust wrapped up with you and holding tight. Jason wondered how long it had been since Danny had been held, since he’d had a body too be held.

“Thank you for telling me” He hesitated just a moment more trying to decide what the right next move was. Ah to hell with it, he never made the right moves anyway “may I?”.

Danny’s humm of ascent was so quiet Jason almost missed it. But it was there, like a thrumming in his chest, like a pulling at his arms, like a weight on his shoulders it was there.

Jason scooped Danny up easily, held him tight in his lap and rubbed circles into his back. Stroked his hair in the way he himself always found so soothing when… when B had…

They stayed there long after the night set in. Taking comfort in each others presence. And for the first time in a long, long time, Danny let himself be small and vulnerable, and let someone else in on the burden that it was to be him.

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[themeraldee]

How would John feel about someone who stops doing something important to pay attention to him?

He's always felt ignored by everyone, Madelyn, Maeve, and now he has someone who, when he gets angry or sad, stops whatever he's doing because "his love is more important than everything." It would be a sweet thing to read, lol.

Homelander has had enough of everyone's dismissal of his importance. What gives them the right to ignore him, discard him, treat him as a lowly supe—if that. They treat him as if he wasn't at the top of the food chain, only sparing everyone out of his own good hearted nature that nobody appreciates him for.

Well. You do. 

Well, to a degree. Even you have some nasty habits that he's slowly weaning you out of. Time spent on 'friends' or 'working'. Your saving grace is that there's rarely an argument between the two of you.

He can give you a visit. See if you truly care for him like you say you do. Or is your love too surface level to prioritize him when necessary? 

Okay, he’s not being really fair. Coming to your already tense as bowstring waiting for the tiniest reason to snap and unleash fury isn’t exactly charitable. But what is a man like him meant to do?

Why should he care for the mindless love of faceless fans when the ones closest to him don’t love him.

To say that Homelander strolls into your office is an understatement. He bulldozes through the door, definitely breaking the hinge mechanism, parking right in front of your desk, hands on his hips, jaw tense and eyes twitching. 

Peering at you through the door to see you at your computer before he even barged in just ignited his anger even more.

Work. work. work. It’s all you care about. Just like her. He doesn’t even want to evoke her name in his mind. A disapproving stare behind sensible plastic-rimmed glasses flashes in his mind. He shakes his head.

He expects the same from you. The bitter taste of disappointment has already settled on his tongue. 

He’s waiting for it. Waiting for an annoyed eye-roll, a wave and a ‘shoo’ or any other disengaged gesture that would just get him out of your hair.

But you don’t do any of that. How could he ever question you?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” That voice. The tone. 

He feels the tension drain from his muscles, arms loosening and falling parallel to his body. In his initial rage, Homelander barely even noticed that your attention was on him the moment you clocked his stomps in the distance, let alone when he decided to give your office entrance an impromptu reno.

You’re already pushing your chair back and rising up, walking around the desk to stand in front of him. There’s zero hesitation when your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. 

He’s not used to this. This effortless love and care you give him. He’s used to it being dangled in front of him. Clear line of sight to a treat that for all his super sonic speed he can never reach. 

Except when it’s given out by you.

“Homelander?” Your voice is soft in his ear. He’s realised he’s still standing stock-still, though considerably less tense. He brings his arms around you. The warmth and feel of you comforts his frayed nerves and hurt feelings.

He exhales deeply, turning his head and burying it in the crook of your neck. He shakes his head slightly.

“It’s—it’s nothing.” He pulls back, the fury already replaced with a sincere beaming smile. “Not a thing. Pfft I’m doing great!” He spreads his arms wide around himself before he slaps them together, the slap dulled by the thud of the leather.

The whiplash of his emotional turmoil doesn’t seem to particularly affect you. You’re still pulling that endearing ‘I’m worried about you’ face and while you look adorable, he wants to kiss it off. You should only be smiling around him. 

Homelander unclasps his hands, pointing a finger at you. “Buuut if you really wanna do something for me, turn that shit off, log off, whatever the fuck. I’m taking you out.” 

Immediately his arms are around you again and he pulls you so close—so fast—that you automatically brace and press the palms of your hands against his chest with a startled giggle. That’s a pretty sound. So much nicer to hear than the disapproving and disgruntled ‘no’ he hears on a daily basis.

He gives in, peppering your face with kisses. From forehead to cheek, from your jaw to your nose. You squirm and squeal under his lips trying to get your words out.

“You wanna go on a date… now?” 

“Yup. Come on, it will be fun. Blow this snoozefest off, let’s have some actual fun.” 

“Alright then, lead the way!” Homelander finally kisses you square on the lips, beyond delighted that you didn’t disappoint. 

Just like you never do.

And just like you never will.

[beholdthebangs]

Movie Night

Sam x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - Best friend Sam is at your place for your weekly movie night turned sleepover. After years of being just friends, he finally gets bold and pushes your relationship to another level.

Warnings: Oral (F on M & M on F), throat fucking, fingering, penetration (M on F), teasing, praise, swallowing, dirty talk, piercings

Word count: 4.0k

A/N: Sam going longer than a few months without trying to fuck his best friend is unrealistic but let’s just play pretend ^_-

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“What’s next on the list?” Sam scrolls absentmindedly through a page of recommended movies as the credits roll on the comedy that just finished playing on your TV.

You shrug. “What genre are you feeling?”

He slumps down on the couch next to you, arms dropping limply to his sides. “Something I can fall asleep to.”

You lean over his body to snatch the remote from his outstretched hand. “Horror, got it.”

“Nooo!” he whines dramatically, lazily grasping at the remote. You easily hold it over your head and out of his reach, searching for a paranormal movie. One time you’d put on The Exorcist and he spent the entire night demanding you lay back to back to “make sure no demons come in.” When asked what you two would do if it were to happen, he couldn’t provide any answers. Lucky for you, he gave it up at 4 that morning because apparently ghosts don’t stay up that late. At least you got a solid two hours of sleep that night. “Let’s compromise,” Sam pleads. “Instead of terrorizing me, let’s watch a rom-com. Some cheesy shit.”

“Not all rom-coms are cheesy, Samson.”

“You keep saying that, and we keep watching them, and each one is always worse than the last.” You nudge his thigh with your knee, rolling your eyes at his complaints as if he hadn’t gotten invested in all of them. You’d noticed the small gasps and intent gazes at the plot twists. The facade he wanted to put up was see-through. “Whatever you put on, can we please go watch it in bed?”

“You know the rules. Finish your popcorn first. I don’t want pieces of it in my sheets.”

Sam groans, grabbing the plastic bucket from the coffee table in front of him. He dips his hand to the bottom, pulling a claw of white popcorn out and shoving it in his mouth. You stare with amazement, mixed with concern that he’s about to choke on a kernel. The second he finishes chewing, he tosses you the nearly empty bowl and jumps off the couch, heading into your bedroom. You begin cleaning up the mess left in his wake.

While Sam’s immaturity requires a specific skill set to tolerate, you’re pretty experienced. You’ve been friends for years and have considered him your best friend for much of that time. Picking up his messes is a side effect of all the entertainment and comfort he’s provided you and it’s a sacrifice you’d make any day. And sure, it would be nice if he didn’t somehow leave behind popcorn on every surface in your living room on movie nights or rip the sheets off your bed in his sleep every time he stayed over, but that’s not Sam.

You join him in your room a few minutes later, flipping on the first rom-com that crosses the screen. Sam is already half-asleep. As you settle in next to him, he grabs at your arm and pulls you in, nestling his head on top of your shoulder while his knee presses to the side of your leg. His hot breath blows on the neckline of your tank top as you rub his back absentmindedly.

To no one’s surprise, Sam is awake by the middle of the movie and invested in the sexual tension building between the main characters. You’ve moved to sit with your back propped up by your pillows, knees pulled to your chest. Sam eventually slides down the bed and pulls one leg closer to him, spreading them just enough to settle himself between your thighs to use your stomach as a pillow. His fingers rake up and down your bare calves as he makes comments about the, yes, cheesy dialogue. Regardless, he’s enjoying himself like you knew he would.

Around 1 am, the characters break up over an easily avoidable misunderstanding and you feel fatigue crawling over you. You stretch your legs out, nowhere to rest them but over Sam’s shoulders and down his torso. His cheek rests against your thigh as the movie lulls with an abundance of exposition. His fingertips begin drawing random lines along your outer thighs, hiking further up your legs to snag along the hem of your pajama shorts. Sam slowly turns his head to the right, his soft lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

To say that nothing romantic had ever happened between you two would be a lie. Sam is a hot skater boy with blond hair, blue eyes, and a sense of humor. He’s pretty universally attractive, and you’re not blind to that. Early into your friendship, there was certainly a question of if you’d grow into something more, but the timing had never felt right. Drunken kisses had been shared, cuddling was a normal occurrence (one where you always chose to ignore the boner pressing into you), and you frequently saw one another in minimal clothing. Still, none of that had ever felt like this.

Sam presses a kiss to your thigh. He waits a moment as if to give you the opportunity to stop him. You don’t yet, frozen with anxiety or maybe just anxious to see what else he does. Without any movement, he places another slow kiss, and another. You let him do as he pleases, lips wandering up your leg to where the hem of your shorts had once rested, his hands having pushed it up enough to gain access. His kisses turn sloppier, the tip of his tongue dragging on your thigh before his lips close against you.

“Nothing to say?” he mumbles between pecks.

“Nothing.” Your voice is hoarse, coming out as a whisper.

“Good.” You can feel Sam smirk before attaching his lips to your thigh, sucking into the delicate skin until it hurts. You writhe against him, his hand shooting up to grip your leg and hold it still. He pauses his assault on your thigh to lick over the fresh bruise before moving up an inch and repeating the process. His attacks grow shorter as he works his way up to the crease between your leg and your pelvis. His thumb pulls your shorts up to the edge of your pelvis and he chuckles. “No underwear, Y/n?”

“I never wear underwear to bed.”

“So you’ve been naked under these,” Sam pulls at your thin shorts, “every time I’ve stayed the night? Every week for years?”

You giggle. “Yeah, I have been naked under my clothes.”

“Naughty girl,” he tsks, ignoring the sarcasm in your voice and delivering a quick bite to the fat of your leg that makes you yelp. Sam flips to his stomach, face between your legs now as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “So… can I see?”

“You wanna check for yourself?”

He hums, pulling your shorts tight to you with his hand balled up on your stomach. You feel the fabric teasing at your slit, Sam’s eyes trained on the inseam as it sneaks between your folds just enough to run against your clit. “I can see how wet your pussy is.” You blush, your hand running through your hair as you prop yourself up to look at him. His eyes flicker to yours. His head is backlit by the TV, messy blond hair glowing around the edges. Despite the angelic view, his face is dark, pupils big in the dimness of your bedroom as he tugs on his lip ring with his teeth. He stares at you with hunger, breath coming out heavy over your lower stomach, sneaking through the exposed gap of fabric between your tank top and shorts. “Is this gonna fuck everything up?”

You stare down at him through hooded lids, tongue running along your lips. “No. We’re just drunk.”

“‘m not drunk,” Sam utters, face moving closer to your covered core.

“Not drunk either,” you whisper back.

Sam hooks his finger in the crotch of your shorts, slipping the fabric to the side and tucking it to your inner thigh with his thumb. Your pussy is exposed to him and he leans in, running his flat tongue up the length of your slit while maintaining his intense eye contact. You want to watch him taste you, take in his expression as he gets what he’s wanted for so long, but your head falls back against your pillow the moment his tongue piercing meets your clit, an involuntary gasp sucked through your lips. He lingers there for a second before pulling back. You manage the strength to lift your head, stealing a glance between your legs. Sam’s eyes are rolled back, slack jawed. His eyelids flutter as he brings himself back into the moment, a moan bubbling up from his throat like tasting you is all he’s ever cared about. When you lock eyes again, any restraint he has remaining leaves with the lust filled look on your face.

Sam’s tongue flicks over your clit until his lips wrap around it, sucking. The cold metal of his lip piercing introduces a unique sensation working in tandem with his needy mouth to pull out your desperate whimpers. Your head presses to your pillow, back arching as you buck your hips against his face. Sam grabs at them, fingernails pressing into your flesh as he begins to lick from your dripping hole up to the swollen nub he’s been so mindful of. The feeling of his tongue entering you takes you by surprise and he moves it inside you, dragging it along your walls while you ride it.

“Can’t fucking do this,” he grumbles, pulling back. You shoot up, leaning on your elbows as you watch. You don’t think your fragile, desperate state can live with these touches stopping so abruptly. Instead, Sam practically rips your shorts down your legs, throwing them aside. His middle finger prods at your hole, gathering slick before driving it inside your pussy, twisting and curling upward to nuzzle the rough spot of skin hiding below your stomach. His tongue returns to your clit as he pumps into you.

“Sammy,” you whimper, reaching down to tangle your hand into his soft shaggy hair.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he coos, the question feeling rhetorical and teasing. As if anything could be wrong right now.

“Don’t stop.”

“N’ gonna,” he assures against your clit, not bothering to pull away for a second time. He adds his ring finger into your cunt, grunting at the way you stretch to accommodate it, slick spilling down his digits and mixing with the spit he’s left all over the flesh between your legs. “Can you take one more?”

You bite your lip. “Y-yeah, I think so.”

“Bad news, babe, but my cock is bigger than this. G’nna have to stretch ya out.” When you don’t answer, he quickly breaks, adding, “If you wanna take it. I didn’t mean to assume—”

“I want your dick, Sam.” He grins up at you, pressing a kiss to your clit and pulling his fingers out to slowly prod his index against the tight ring of your pussy. You whine as he pushes his way in, giving you time to adjust to the thickness before he picks up his pace. He’s glued onto your expression and you try your best to hold his gaze, letting breathy groans out each time his knuckles meet the skin of your pussy lips, fingers reaching deep inside you. A part of you had always wondered if it was true that guitar players were good at fingering. His long, dexterous digits have thoroughly convinced you. When they curl up into your slick walls, you see stars. Your hand curls up in his hair, tugging on his roots as he admires you with your guard down, letting yourself enjoy his touch.

“I think I’m gonna cum in my pants if I don’t fuck you right now.”

“You think you’ve stretched me enough to take it?”

Sam pulls out, sinking his fingers into his mouth and letting his tongue lick off your sweet taste as if getting it straight from the source hasn’t yet satisfied his taste for it. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

He moves to stand at the edge of the bed as you look down at him, hands tucked under your head. Sam crosses his arms in front of him, gripping the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it haphazardly over his head, dropping it on the ground next to him. One of your hands snake down your torso to your clit and you rub it gently as you watch him undress. He shoots you a shit-eating grin, shaking his head. His shorts are pushed down off his legs as he’s left in tight green boxers. Sam turns to the side, the light from the TV spreading over his body and silhouetting him. Your fingers dip to your pussy as you study his shape, the lines of muscle on his arms and stomach growing sharper with the dramatic shadows cast over him. The bulge of his hard cock sticks out from his body and though you’d felt it pressed against your ass before, you’d never allowed yourself to think about the size of it. Never imagined what it looked like, felt like, tasted like. Now the possibilities are swirling around in your mind and you need answers now.

Sam knows what he’s doing. He’s giving you a show on purpose, thoroughly enjoying the effect it has on you. His fingers dip into the tight waistband of his underwear, dragging them down his hips. The fabric snags on his dick and he makes a scene of painstakingly pulling his boxers down, revealing his length an inch at a time until it springs out. “Sam,” you whine, fingertip running circles around your clit as you wait desperately for him to rejoin you on the bed.

He looks from his cock back over to you, eyes wide with an eyebrow cocked, lips pressed together. “Yeah, babe?”

You raise both eyebrows, climbing to your knees to crawl over to the edge of the bed. “Let me suck your dick.”

“I’ll make you a deal, ‘kay?” Sam sits you up on your knees, tugging at the hem of your little tank top until you lift your arms over your head. He peels it off your torso, pausing to bite at his lip as he reveals your perfect tits before guiding the straps off your arms and discarding it. Sam pushes you backward as he crawls on top, holding himself up on his palms. His cock drags up your stomach, a line of clear, thick precum leaving a trail behind. “You can suck my dick…” he grabs your hip, flipping you onto your stomach underneath him, “if you cum on it first.” His body presses down on you, nudging your knees apart enough to slide the head of his dick along your slit. Pulling his hips back, he nestles it to your slick hole and slowly rocks it into you inch by inch.

You grip the sheets below you, the bottom of your chin rested on the mattress as his length slips inside. The ring of your cunt strains against his girth and you’re thankful for that third finger pushing you closer to your limit. Sam continues, painfully slow, until his hips push tight on your ass. He tugs your hair, tilting your head to the side and pressing his lips to your strained neck. “Fuck, babe. Fuck! ‘re you good?”

“Mm-hmmm,” you hum. The blond doesn’t waste another second as he pulls his hips back and snaps them to you, his cock bullying through your suffocatingly tight walls with each thrust. Your body jolts forward as he fucks harshly into you, mouth attached to your neck to leave bruises identical to those on your thigh. His hand is back on your hip, holding you tight to stabilize you, forcing you back onto him as his tip nudges the sensitive spot inside. His cock feels like it’s in your stomach, convinced you’d be able to see it shifting your organs around if your stomach wasn’t pressed to the bed.

“S’ fucking tight,” Sam slurs, holding himself in you in the last word as you squeeze around his length. “Wish I woulda done this years ago, babe.”

“Me too,” you admit, voice pitched higher than normal, words falling out like moans.

“Yeah? Wish we coulda spent all these movie nights fucking?” You nod, your cheek pushed into the mattress. Sam props himself on his elbows, using the extra height to pull himself nearly all the way out of your cunt before ramming it back inside. He continues this slower, deeper pace on you and what was still left of your functioning brain finally leaves, cries pouring from your lips. “Can’t believe you’re letting me put my dick in you like this, babe. Look so pretty around it.” His fingers rub over your scalp, massaging it as he tugs into the hair falling from it, so twisted up in you. “Can’t keep squeezing me like that or I’m gonna fill you up.”

“Gonna cum, Sammm,” you groan, his throbbing cock tugging on the tight ring of your pussy as he grinds into you. His hand slips under your stomach and finds your clit, fingers slipping over the little button with precision and a quickness that rivals your own despite your extensive experience playing with it. His skilled fingers paired with repeated snaps into your g-spot have you on the edge of your orgasm, burying your face into your blankets and reaching above you to dig your hands into your pillows. He bottoms out in you one last time, short little thrusts keeping you full as you clench desperately to him, your cum flooding over his dick and threatening to leak out and soak your bed. Sam’s free hand is twisted into the sheets as he tries to ride out your orgasm without reaching his. He puts great effort into holding back his groans, coming out instead as grunts which only spur you on.

When he pulls out and frees you from the pin to your bed, you slowly turn over. His cock stands tall, practically dripping with the remnants of your orgasm as he takes his place standing at the end of your bed. You’re breathing heavy as you admire him. The TV has turned to a black screen now, the whole room dark with the exception of the moonlight sneaking under the curtains. Sam leans forward to stroke your leg. “Whenever you’re ready, pretty girl.” His hand runs over his dick, the sound wet with your cum serving as his lubricant. Slowly, you push yourself up and crawl to meet him. You stare down the thick pink tip sitting at eye level as you prep to take it in your mouth. “On your back.”

You glance up at Sam, his eyes stuck on yours. His hand falls to your cheek, thumb stroking it sweetly until you turn your back to him, sitting down and settling yourself on your back. He’s still hot upside down, jaw angled sharply as he looks down his nose at you.

He tucks his hands under your shoulders and pulls you closer so your head slips off the end of the bed. Your eyes flicker up as you adjust to the new position just in time to see Sam guiding his cock to your lips. He slides the head along your slightly parted lips and before you can register it, he’s pushing between them. Your lips close around the ridge of it, your tongue exploring the hard flesh in your mouth. He gives you a moment to lick up his precum, not wasting any time once you’re finished, slipping his cock further into your mouth. His tip pushes into your throat as his balls press into your face, groaning as you take him so good. His palms fall to your breasts, squeezing at the fatty tissue and pinching at your nipples as he begins to slowly thrust himself in and out of your throat in shallow movements.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby,” he whines. “Gonna swallow my cum?” His length is too thick and deep down your throat for you to respond. Sam’s hand moves to your neck, giving it a tight squeeze as he snaps his hips in uneven patterns. “I can feel it throbbing when I hold it down your throat,” he tells you, as if you couldn’t feel it too. He picks up the pace, your mouth falling open to let him push in and out with less restriction. Each time his head bumps into your throat, you let out an involuntary wet noise that he seems to love, hitting it harder each time. “Fuck, babe…”

Sam’s palms suddenly move to the sides of your face, fingers hooking under your chin as he holds you still, fucking into you with thrusts growing slower and harsher until you feel a warmth sliding through you and settling in your stomach. He starts to pull out but holds his tip in your mouth, another spurt of cum coating your tongue as he gives his cock a rough stroke to milk it out. His dick eventually leaves your mouth, your lips staying parted as you try to catch your breath and recover from the abuse on your throat from his mean cock. He crouches down to look you in your eyes. “Be a good girl and swallow the rest. Did so good, babe.” You follow his directions, closing your mouth only to gulp down the milky cum that rests inside before falling back to a panting mess. He kisses your cheek and stands back up, helping you back up only to lay your head on the pillows at the other end of the bed. Sam crawls in next to you, holding you tight as you recover, his own breathing somewhat heavy following his orgasm.

“You’re a good best friend,” he coos, stroking your hair as he pulls your head onto his bare chest. You snuggle into his warm body, your own body temp having come down as you lay still, naked above the covers. “Just wish you would’ve told me you’d let me fuck you years ago.”

“Wish you would’ve told me you could fuck like that.”

“You thought I would be a bad lay?” Sam asks, his hand on his chest as he hangs his mouth open dramatically. “I don’t practice every night for nothing.”

“Is that why Jodi finally let you get a lock on your door?”

He groans. “Don’t talk about my mom while you’re still digesting my cum.”

“Noted.”

“So… same time tomorrow?” You laugh. “Seriously. I’d save a lot of tissues if I can just use your mouth. It’s the environmentally friendly thing to do.”

You shove his side playfully, prompting him to wrap you up in his arms. “Don’t blame me for that. Use a sock or something.”

“So you don’t want to do that again?”

You roll your eyes as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I didn’t say that.”

Sam smirks, stealing a kiss. “You can admit that you’re addicted to my cock.”

“‘m not admitting that.”

He shrugs, letting you go so he can get out of bed to grab his boxers, tossing your tank top and shorts over to you while he’s at it. “That’s okay. You’ll admit it tomorrow.”

[thewertsearch]

TT: So what about Jade? […] TT: You didn't tell her your expedition with her would result in your death, let alone one she'd inadvertently cause. TT: Or that she'd be stuck with the job of resuscitating you. Did you? TG: what am i really supposed to say TG: hey were gonna hunt frogs til you shoot me through the jack TG: then i die and youve got to make out with me TG: that kind of changes how the whole thing goes doesnt it

Plus, after the first loop, you already knew you weren't going to tell her. The window of opportunity to decide the circumstances of your death had already closed.

TG: you dont know anything TG: about what i was feeling or what happened on lofaf TG: you were all pavement faced and babbling your throefester speak and flipping off the shit with your own crazy deathwish thing why do you think you know what was going through my head TG: youre just assuming and throwing around psyche buzzwords like aspd complex disorder

I don't think we've ever seen Dave this angry.

I think he's earned it, to be honest. These kids have been stuck in Skaia's emotional pressure cooker for nearly 24 hours, and they’re all reaching their respective breaking points. Dave's had just about enough, and he needs to let it out.

TG: im telling you if i said anything at all about it she probably doesnt even fire her gun once and all im doing is dragging her into a doomed timeline with me TT: I guess I'm learning to be impressed by your sense of obligation to inevitable misfortune. It's a strange case of inspiration through futility.

Well, it’s complicated.

On a surface level, it really does look like his misfortune was predestined - but the more of Homestuck I read, the more I gravitate toward the theory I linked in my previous post - that the Alpha Timeline can only 'force' you to do things that are already consistent with your personality. After all, we still haven't really seen a time loop that forces a character to act against their own nature.

If it's true, then perhaps Dave’s getting these shitty loops because he expects them – and maybe, if he changed his perspective, he’d start to be presented with kinder ones. It's worth a try, at least.

It’s not like this is exclusively a Sburbian phenomenon, either. Outside of Homestuck, plenty of us feel like our personalities trap us in loops of our own, forcing us to repeatedly experience the same thoughts, actions or situations.

We might not be time travelers, but our own metaphorical loops can feel just as inescapable as the literal ones binding Dave.

TG: i was never that cool with this TT: With what, exactly? TG: you know how you turned out to be this incredibly shitty seer of light and basically failed at that in every way imaginable TT: Hey!

Eh, I think you deserved that one.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 15.1 - Brain Drain

Akira and Cora hadn’t talked since he left her apartment. “You dyed your hair,” he grunts.

“Uh, yeah…I thought I should blend in, in case we have trouble with security. You like it?” she pats the bun and smooths her pants.

“I think it feels like overkill for one job, but whatever.” He glances back at the building. “Let’s plan in the cafeteria and if we need anymore 'cover,' I’ll use glamour.” 

Inside, Akira looks at the piece of paper with Jacques’s list of items again. It includes a few magical bits, bobs, and weapons—nothing that requires his level of talent. And the fact that he was being sent to retrieve everything with Cora?

“This is bullshit,” he says, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. “I can get weapons.” 

He doesn’t share his suspicions about what the supplies include: machetes, axes, pikes, potions and medicines to ward off spider bites. Jacques was planning some bullshit; Akira knew it in his bones, and it pissed him off. 

“The weapons cache requires a digital safe crack. That’s literally my exact skill set, and it's what Jacques asked for.”

That was true. Jacques had been very specific, too specific for Akira’s taste. Usually, the Devil gave him plenty of leeway. “What does he want this shit for anyway?” he asks. 

“Dunno,” Cora replies, but it’s a lie. “You wanna wait until they close? Do it the hard way for fun?”

Akira hides his annoyance. Fae despise being lied to, especially when someone is trying to get something from them. 

And more than that, stealing after hours was a hassle. Everyone was on high alert, and you had to worry about security footage and guards. He stands and heads for the stairs. “I got shit to do later. Let’s just cross it off the list so Jacques can get his supplies that you don’t know anything about.”

It’s light work to glamour the front desk and a few employees as Akira and Cora make their way down the hall. He keeps it surface-level, something that will fade on its own. Anything more substantial, and the sims would lose all track of themselves.

They slip into one of the computer stations so Cora can hack the system and get them into the server room. While she works, Akira takes in their surroundings. “How long is this gonna take?”

Her shoulders tighten. “As long as it needs to. Just have patience. It’s not like we’re in danger.”

Patience was not something Akira had a lot of right now. Vlad chased him with sharp weapons so often he was practically becoming a pincushion, and he'd started watching some zombie TV show with Alice over the phone.

To put it simply, his bloodlust was at an all time high.

If he wasn't thinking about pulling Vlad down for a kiss when he got tackled to the ground, he was fantasizing about scraping the sharp of his teeth against Alice's neck while they cuddled on the couch.

After what feels like ten thousand years, Cora gives him the signal and he follows her to the elevators.

“I shouldn’t have lied,” she says when they reach the safe. She sets her laptop down on a side table. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t,” Akira warns. “Don’t apologize to me. Don’t give me anything that lets me bind you.”

She halts. “But why? We’re friends, and I owe you, right? That’s how it works. You’ve been telling me forever that things have to be a transaction. It has to be a trade, but I didn’t get it. I never gave you something of myself, so how could you trust me?”

The answer was that he never would. “I said no,” he bites out. 

“I’m sorry,” Cora’s expression is hopeful, “Seriously, I am so, so sorry I lied to you.”

When she reaches for him, he grabs her chin. The power floods him, and he can taste everything: her fear, her desire, and her utter lack of understanding. “Stupid,” he hisses. 

“Akira, I—”

"Shut up."

Her mouth clamps shut. 

PREV | NAVIGATION | NEXT

(Part 2 of 4)

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 8, Unexpected - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, bit 'o' dirty talk, allusions to sexual situations, Tony being Tony.

Word Count: 1.9k

Previously On...: Tony invented an interesting game for the team to play while you and Bucky were otherwise... occupied, and the team voted on whether or not to approve Jade's probationary term. To your surprise, Bucky voted against it, though it didn't matter, as you were outvoted, but you were grateful for his support.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 8! I know Bucky said some shitty stuff in Ch. 7, Pt. 1, but I'd like to clarify that none of what was said was out of malice or lack of care for Pocket. He just truly wasn't thinking about how the things he said would make her feel. Is it callous? Absolutely. Is it unforgivable? I don't necessarily think so. We all have moments where we simply speak without thought. It's not his finest moment in the fic, but it's also not going to be his worst.

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch

The next few weeks were some of the best of your life. True to his word, Bucky was romancing the absolute shit out of you. It seemed like nearly every night, he was whisking you out for another romantic dinner, or to this hole-in-the-wall jazz club he found so he could finally take you dancing ("the proper way, not this humping-while-standing-up-thing you kids do nowadays"). He brought fresh flowers to both your suite and your office once a week like clockwork, and the sex-- well, there were some mornings you couldn't even walk properly. It was perfect. He was perfect.

Together, you existed in your own little bubble, a new level of happiness unlocked in both of you that neither one ever expected to achieve.

The day of Jade's move-in to the Tower arrived, and you would have completely forgotten all about it if Tony hadn't mentioned it to you when you passed him in the hall on your way to meet Bucky in the common room for lunch. The reminder didn't weigh you down like you had expected it to. While she was unpleasant, and you didn't expect to become chums with her anytime soon, that burning rage you'd felt for her when she'd flirted with Bucky had subsided. Knowing how he felt about you had worn your jealousy down to non-existent.

You entered the common room, spotting Bucky kneeling in front of the coffee table, his back to you, as he took the lunches he'd ordered for you out of their takeout carriers and arranging them on the surface.

Feeling playful, you decided to sneak up on him, covering his eyes with your hands when you finally reached him.

"You know I heard you coming a mile away, doll," he chuckled, reaching around to pull you into a kiss. "Could smell you, too."

"Oh, I--" You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you sank next to him on the floor. Just thinking about Bucky was enough to get you aroused most days, but for it to be enough for him to smell--

"Relax, ya pervert; I meant your perfume," Bucky laughed, passing you a bottle of iced tea from the take out bag. You playfully swatted at him.

"You're awful," you admonished with a grin.

"Yet, you love me," he shot back, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

"The world is full of mysteries," you teased. You started opening up the container of Gaeng Daeng Bucky had ordered from your favorite Thai place. The portions were so large, you'd only ever be able to eat half of it, but that was just fine; your super soldier boyfriend would make sure none of it went to waste.

"I do love that lilac perfume on you," Bucky mused as he dug into his own plate of Pad Krapow Moo Saap. "Mixes so nice with the scent of your pussy."

You choked on a bite of your curry as Bucky broke into a fit of laughter. Handing you your bottle of tea, Bucky gently rubbed your back as he tried to reel himself in. "I'm sorry, doll. Drink this. Don't go choking to death on me, now."

When you were finally able to get your breathing back under control, you shot him a look.

"What?" he said, face the picture of innocence as he held up his hands in surrender. "'s not my fault you have the prettiest pussy I've ever laid my tongue on."

For the sake of propriety, you wanted to be mad at, or at least a little annoyed by him. But, Lord, if his words didn't do things to you. So, instead, you grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him toward you in a bruising kiss. His hands quickly guided your body down, until you were lying on the floor and he was resting on top of you, your Thai food temporarily abandoned as you gave in to one another.

Bucky had just begun pawing at your clothes when you both froze at the sound of someone awkwardly clearing their throat in the doorway.

"Common Room's closed for maintenance. Come back later," Bucky called over his shoulder without even looking. You couldn't help but laugh as he resumed kissing you. The man had no shame and you were kinda into it.

"Buck." The single word, low and harsh from Steve left you both frozen in place. In unison, you picked your heads up and looked to the door. Standing in the archway were three individuals-- one looking at you with barely disguised amusement, one with undisguised rage, and one who was trying very hard not to look at you at all.

"I hope you're not fraternizing on company time, Pocket," Tony said with a grin. Surprisingly, he had warmed up to the idea of you and Bucky being together (especially after you had threatened to "take my talents somewhere where my personal life won't be scrutinized and judged." "You wouldn't!" he'd gasped. "I wouldn't want to," you'd replied. "Don't let that be my only remaining option." It had been an empty threat; you both knew it, but it had been enough to get him on board).

The same couldn't be said for the man who refused to look at you, though. Since you and Bucky had officially begun dating, Steve had been ignoring you like you had cooties and he was unvaccinated, and you couldn't, for the life of you, figure out why. You'd brought your concern up to Bucky one evening, sure he'd assuage your anxiety, but he just told you to give the other man time to sort himself, leaving you with more questions. Did Steve hate you now because he thought you'd stolen his best friend from him? Or were those ‘Stucky’ shippers on Tumblr onto something?

"Like you're one to talk, Boss," you sassed back to Tony as you and Bucky extricated yourselves from your compromising position and stood up. Brushing down your pants, you turned to Bucky. "Can't even begin to tell you how many girls I've walked in on this guy with in the office before Pep came into the picture. Scarred me for life."

Tony had a faux-sappy look on his face and let loose a couple of fake sniffles as he clutched his hands to his heart. "Office dalliances of her very own. My little girl is all grown up. There is nothing more for me to teach you, precious Padawan." His hands moved to wipe away at a fake tear.

"Tony," Steve warned with a raised brow.

Tony blanched, as though just remembering his purpose for being in the common room. "Oh, yeah. Um, very unprofessional, you two. I'm shocked. Just scandalized. This is a place of business, blah blah blah and all that. Anyway, you remember Jade Carthage, our newest Probationary Avenger."

Ah, the third individual who was glaring at you with unadulterated hatred in her eyes.

"Vixen, nice to see you again. Welcome to the team." Bucky extended his hand for Jade to shake, and you watched her gaze soften and melt under his as she took his hand.

"Such a pleasure to see you again, Sergeant Barnes," she cooed. When Bucky released her hand, she turned to you, a cold, wicked smile that cut like a knife across her face.

"I don't think we've met," she said, extending her hand to you. "I'm Jade Carthage, but please, call me 'Vixen.'"

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you said, with a shrug, as if completely nonplussed that she claimed not to know you. “My friends call me ‘Pocket,’ but Ms. (Y/L/N) should suffice.'" You took her hand to shake it. "CTO of Stark Industries, head of Innovation and Technology for the Avengers’ Initiative. Bucky's girlfriend." Jade's grip around your hand tightened, her super soldier strength making it feel as though she were crushing your very bones, but you held on, not letting a single ounce of pain show on your face. You'd dealt with worse.

When you didn't back down, Jade let your hand go. You flexed your fingers, relishing in the return of blood flow to your appendages.

"Buck," Steve said, and you were kind of hoping for more than just a single syllable out of him this time, "we're putting Jade next door to you. Mind showing her where to go? We've already had her stuff moved in. Tony and I just need to finalize some paperwork with her and we'll have her back down."

Sensing your body tense up at Steve's request, Bucky placed a reassuring hand at the small of your back. "Well, I'm in Pocket's room most nights now, anyway." He looked down at you, offering a soft smile that you returned. "But since she's just across the hall, yeah. We can walk you down, Jade. That is," he added, his smile turning a little naughty, "if I can convince my girl here to take the afternoon off and indulge me with a bit of her time." His arm moved from your back up to around your shoulders, and he pulled you into him.

"Well," you hemmed, as though not already completely convinced that would be an absolutely wonderful idea, "I have to check with my boss first. Hey, Tony?" He pursed his lips at you, clearly not pleased that you wanted to slack off. "Can I take the afternoon off?" He opened his mouth, most likely to deny you, but you cut him off "Oh, wait-- that's right. I don't actually report to you anymore." You turned back to Bucky. "We're good to go, baby." You winked and blew Tony a kiss. You both knew you had so much unused vacation time stacked up, you could not show up to work for a year and you'd barely tap into it.

"Great," Bucky said with a smile. "We'll finish our lunch and you can meet us back here when you're done finalizing your paperwork, and we'll show you your new digs."

Steve nodded and grunted his consent, while Jade just glared at you.

"Perfect," said Tony with a clap of his hands. Before turning to leave, he looked back at you and Bucky with a conspiratorial nod. "Just make sure to finish off your lunch and not each other, got it? I'm not due to have this carpet shampooed for another couple of weeks, and they charge extra for dealing with bodily fluids."

"Oh, gross, Tony," you moaned, while they walked off, Tony laughing to himself.

Once they were gone and you and Bucky had settled back around the coffee table to eat your now cooling Thai, you leaned in and kissed him. "Thank you," you said when you'd pulled away.

"For what?" he asked, breath a little uneven from the kiss.

"For being amazing and handling that entire thing perfectly," you told him, putting a hand on his knee.

He smiled at you, his blue eyes like crystals. "I told you, sweetheart, gonna be the best goddamned boyfriend you ever had, and that means making sure I'm not putting myself in a situation with her" he nodded his head toward the now empty doorway, "that makes you uncomfortable. Besides, it was really immature of her to pretend she didn't know who you were. I'm not going to spend alone time with someone who disrespects my girl like that."

You brought your hand up to stroke his jaw. "Have I told you how much I fucking love you?"

"Yeah," said Bucky, smiling at you through a big bite of his food, "but you might have to repeat yourself a lot. I am over a hundred, you know. My hearing's not what it used to be."

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[gay-dorito-dust]

Trying to keep this as spoiler free as possible for the new episodes of Vox Machina, so only vague.

One thing that’s been on my mind about Deadweight!Reader while watching the new episodes of Vox Machina is that Vax doesn’t have to worry about the visions. If you know, you know, that’s Reader’s burden now on rather or not to tell.

Deadweight reader doesn’t tell them shit.

You don’t tell them shit because you think they’ll only look at you crazy, or treat you like the treated you before the whole becoming the matron’s champion.

Vax, is the one who tries to understand the most about your visions, should you ever slip up and say something like, ‘this mission is pointless for only death lies ahead for all of us, you should’ve left me for dead in the tomb.’

He’s naturally going to want to know what these visions are and why they’ve got so scared out of your wits. He’ll try and sit down with you, reach out and touch your hand but immediately your pulling away and walking off, all the while trying to control your breathing and pretending that you didn’t see the mass graves that would belong to your group.

‘Why do you keep this shit from us!’ He’d exclaim.

‘You would’ve fucking understand!’ You’d yell back, ‘how the fuck am I meant to tell you that you did at the end of this when I don’t even fully trust you to begin with?’ You continued, feeling all your emotions welling up within your chest.

‘I thought that we-‘

‘That I would just give away my trust like that of a common whore?’ You cackled as the sound of rain hit your ears, the sound used to calm you but now only reminds you of gods weeping for the fate you’ll inevitably; the deadweight of vox machina, life cut short by pretending to be a hero. ‘You did save, and while I thank you all…that doesn’t mean I have to suddenly start spilling everything in burden with.’

‘And what are you burdened with exactly.’ Vax asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he feels his heart break, all he wanted to do was stand proudly by your side but he guessed he was too eager in forgetting that you had scars that were deeper then the surface level ones your more.

‘Glorious purpose.’ You spat out as you felt yourself physically react to the vision you just had, clutching your heart as it clenched in pain but still pushing through out of sheer stubbornness. ‘A purpose you’re all so fucking lucky you never have to bear because you wouldn’t last long before succumb to madness and rage.’ You blinked the tears from your eyes, not knowing Vax was already behind you, not until you felt him gently draw you into his arms as he held you against his chest and stroking your back.

‘That is true, we are lucky to no be burdened by what you are and you are indeed stronger then us to have managed to put up with it as long as you have. You have raven wings for fuck sake!’ Vax exclaims but his face softens when he felt you subconsciously lean into his warm hold. ‘But you’ve been strong for far too long peanut, if you won’t let all of us help then let me help, let me into your heart and trust in me to be your respite for when things get tough.’ Vax then rests his head against yours. ‘Just let me be with you.’ He whispers.

You swallowed thickly as you felt anything and everything all at once and it was overwhelming, so overwhelming that you burrowed your head into Vax’s chest without thinking. ‘I’m so fucking tired…so fucking tired.’ Vax kisses your head, holding you tighter as he reassures you of his presence. ‘I’m here, I’m right here peanut and I’m not going anywhere.’

[preservationofnormalcy]

[As I climb the multiple levels of stairs to the ranger tower, I take a moment to stop and reflect. I’m exhausted - after the hike to get here, the relief that I felt upon seeing the tower was tempered by the realization I had several flights of stairs ahead of me. I was in Washington State, flown here by my handlers to talk to seemingly the only Esoteric Ranger that would be available for the next month. Not for the first time, I wondered what it meant that they heavily suggested my interview subjects. The best person for the job, or the best PR face in the department?

I reach the top and stop again, and take a drink of water. A figure sitting inside the room at the top turns and sees me, and gets up to open the door. He is young, in his mid to late twenties, long brown hair done up in a bun, a large scraggly beard over the top of his ranger uniform. He has a look of amusement on his face, a sort of polite smile doing its best to cover up a smirk. His accent is thick, Appalachian, and his demeanor still manages to convey a sort of genial calm.]

S] Meghan, right?

M] Yeah. Hold on, let me…catch my breath.

S] Aint no worry. Take the time you need. I’ll just leave the door propped open. And if it helps, there’s iced tea in here waiting for you.

M] That does help. I’ll just….be a second.

[After a moment, I joined the man in the observation room. A cot, a shelf of supplies, a desk with a radio setup, a laptop on a table. A simple room for an apparently complex job. The tree-eye logo of the Rangers is plastered on many surfaces, well worn.]

M] Sheamus Doyle, right?

S] Yes ma’am.

M] I’m Meghan.

S] Pleasure to meet you. Lemme just….

[He takes a jug of iced tea from a minifridge and pours some into two mismatched cups, sitting at the small table and glancing at his laptop for a moment as I sit across from him.]

S] Pardon me, just watchin’ the ‘squatches.

M] Watching?

[He turns the screen around - a topographic map of the area is displayed, black with white lines, with about a dozen white dots congregating in two places.]

S] We’ve been watching the cryptid migrations. They been odd since….well, since. Ain’t been following their normal routes.

M] Is that what the Rangers do? I’m sure you know I’m here to ask questions, so….I guess that’ll be my first one.

S] A large part of it, yes ma’am. Cryptid watch.

M] I guess that’s the “catch and release” part of the poster I saw.

S] Mhmm. It’s hard work, y’know. Better here’n in the Everglades taggin’ skunk apes though.

M] Let me look at my notes…kind of scrambled after the hike here.

S] Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Everyone’s gotta do a stint in the firewatch, and we pull double duty takin’ notes on the ‘squatches while we’re here.

M] Tell me a little about the Esoteric Rangers.

S] We’re older than the Office is. Bet they ain’t told you that.

M] How so?

S] Office was founded in ‘27, right? E-Rangers were a secret division of the National Park Service, founded –

M] 1916, eleven years earlier.

S] That’s right. Even then they knew weird stuff happens in the forests, so they had a little bit earmarked for people to investigate or protect people from the weird stuff, and the weird stuff from people. When the Office came around later, we got folded into them instead. But by that time, y’know. Eleven years. That’s enough time for a place to develop a sort of….culture.

M] How do you mean?

S] We’re under the jurisdiction of the Office for the Preservation of Normalcy, ma’am, but between you an’ me, the Rangers have our own ways of doing things, our own rules. Was a requirement of the merger.

M] I see. So forested areas are your jurisdiction?

S] Anything that takes place on ‘r around a national park or a nature preserve usually has at least one of us onsite. We have our checklists, our methods for findin’ out what’s going on. Weird shit happens far from civilization.

M] Like what?

S] Reality sorta…gets weak, out here. I heard y’talked to Wren.

M] I did.

S] They’re always on about that noosphere stuff. Out here, with no people, noosphere kinda gets a little…wobbly. It’s like…if enough human minds are the bungee cords holdin’ down a tarp. It’s fine most of the time, but sometimes there’s a wind, you know? The noosphere don’t have the guidance to tell it what to do, so you get…

[He trailed off.]

M] What?

S] I seen weird shit, ma’am. Woodpeckers that move backwards, sealing up holes in trees. Hikers from twenty years ago, missing their faces. Places where the sun never shines, like that old song. Areas that looked like Lucifer’s vacation home, all burned and sulphur-smoke. Deer speakin’ in the voices of dead relatives, antlers shining blue. Gunshots where there shouldn’t be people. Realspace is weak out here. Veil gets thin when there ain’t no one to see it.

M] Is all that true?

S] As true as Mama’s promises.

M] Mmh. Tell me about the….cryptids. What is a cryptid? I know it’s like…unknown creatures, but for you they’re clearly….known, right?

[He sat back after a drink of his tea, giving a wince and a so-so gesture of his hand.]

S] That’s the mundane definition, yeah. The Office’s definition of a cryptid is….a creature whose existence ain’t really evolutionarily plausible, that would raise a lot a’ questions were it known. Jackalopes, you know, no other bunny has antlers, sort of thing. They probably didn’t evolve, per se, so…

M] What about the sasquatch? Wouldn’t it just be seen as a missing link?

[He nods, thinks for a second, looks at his computer, and then jerks his head to the door.]

S] Lemme show you something.

[On the platform outside, bolted onto the railing, is a telescope - or I assume it is. Attached to the long barrel of the device are a lot of wires, a plastic casing that looked like it housed a small electronic assembly, and a revolving series of lenses that look like they can be rotated into the eye ports like an optometrist’s testing machine. He looks into the scope, adjusting the lenses and a few knobs on the side of the device, and locks it into place.]

S] Here, take a look.

[I look into the scope - for a moment, I think there’s something wrong with it. I can see a clearing in the forest, and three….shapes. Smudges on the lenses? No, he’d have seen that. The shapes are blurry blobs from this distance, out of sync from their sharper surroundings. I’m about to take my eyes away from the scope and ask what I’m looking at when I feel him reach over and adjust the lenses again, rotating a new set into place. It’s accompanied by an electric click and a soft whine from the device, and now I can see them clearly. The three blobs were large, humanoid figures, covered head to toe in rusty brown fur. One stands guard in the clearing, while another sits on a stone, grooming the fur of a third, possibly a juvenile. They are...impossible. Majestic creatures, even from this distance.]

S] We call it an Obfuscation Field. They’re sort of always….blurry. In the 30’s we developed techniques to see through it, y’know, but it’s one of those things people can’t find out about.

M] Unbelievable.

S] Somethin’ wrong?

M] It’s just…this whole time, you know?

[He leaned on the railing, taking a vape pen out of his shirt pocket.]

S] Yeah, I heard they kind of threw you into all this. Sink ‘r swim. I wager most people get a slower introduction.

M] Did you?

[He took a hit of his vape pen.]

M] Should you be doing that on the job?

[He gave me an amused look, gesturing around to the forest. I could almost imagine a hypothetical camera comically zooming out to show the remoteness of the tower.]

S] Nah, I grew up in all this. My family’s been practicing “The Work”, so to speak, since they came here four or five generations ago. I never got the hang of witchcraft, myself. You get a dud every other generation, so they say. My sister’s a natural though, she’s interning with the Office in Archival.

M] Some people are sort of…born into knowing this stuff.

S] We call it being “in the community”. At a certain point it all blends together. Your family does folk magic at a certain level, you grow up with your best friend bein’ a lycan, that kinda thing.

M] I feel like I’ve missed out.

S] Ma’am, sometimes it’s more trouble’n it’s worth.

M] Yeah?

S] I love my friends, my family, but….you think I wouldn’t flick a switch, give all this up? Be Sheamus the hipster and not Sheamus the cryptid hunter? Be a hell of a lot more simple. Weird shit attracts more weird shit.

[He took another hit, exhaling a thick cloud. For a moment, shapes in the cloud coalesce - the prominent brow of an ape, a rabbit with antlers. I wonder if he was being modest about his lack of magic.]

M] I’m not really sure.

S] You’re letting it get to you, all of this. So quick, so extreme. I think you need an industrial grade chill pill, ma’am.

M] Maybe I do.

S] I got a guy coming in to bring me supplies tonight. Stay here, watch the sunset, you drive back with him.

M] Are you sure?

S] Hundred percent. Take the evenin’, ma’am. You need it.

(Buy the poster here!)

[candyskiez]

Thinks about how genius it was to have Mogami arc and Separation arc happen right next to each other btw. This will be incoherent because I am sleepy.

It sets up how unfair it was to isolate Mob because we just saw how painful the isolation was for him. We also see how hard it is for him to step up and say no or defend himself at all.

Establishes "people need other people" right before Reigen loses the one person he has, realizes he has no friends, and has to realize people noticing him is what he really wanted. He needs people and no amount of fame or surface level shit is going to fill the void. He needs to let himself be known.

Has Mob realize sometimes people are just...awful, genuinely. But nobody is worthless. No one, no matter how bad, is worthless. Other people can be awful and still deserve to be saved. People can suck so fucking hard and it's not just spirits or something supernatural. Sometimes people are awful, even good people. This sets up him being able to go "No. How he's treating me is fucked up. He's treating me like shit. I'm not dealing with this." While also being able to accept that he wants to change.

Mob forms his own conclusions and opinions. Mob is making his own decisions now and is his own person.

The themes of change and how isolation and extreme trauma changes a person.

"I truly am blessed to have the people in my life" (paraphrasing) right before Reigen is a dick about his friends.

Mob comes out stronger than he's ever been and more convicted than ever. Reigens still Reigen. Contributes to Reigens realization *he's the one that never grew up.*

We see Mob grow and be able to accept that sometimes people suck and people also can change and be good, and also the themes align SO well (loneliness, how people change when they're in a terrible situation and what can bring out the worst in someone, people reaching rock bottom and reflecting on what led them there, realizing what they hadn't realized they'd been lucky to have until it was gone, community is what really matters) it's just. Do you get me. Do I make any sense. Guys. Gu

[h0pebloomedfromtheabyss]

giyuu's idealism and moral compass because my brain will explode (part 2/2) if you stumbled upon this before reading the first part, here.

part two: are giyuu's actions influenced by morality, logic, feelings or intuition? (note: this is my interpretation and is going to be messy)

one of the things I find so interesting about giyuu is how the author placed him out of all the characters in the beginning and end of demon slayer and how we get to see his thoughts while making a choice so that we can learn about him as a character. based off of my experience at least, people see him as either the good guy who does no wrong or the embodiment of hypocrisy. no in between. and I believe this misses the point. let me (peacefully) go through the (two) main dilemmas he's put in

1) you're running to a mission because your ancient crow messed up the orders (again) and find a demon trying to eat someone. when you try decapitating the demon, the human it's trying to eat deflects your attack. like the empath you are, you ask "what the fuck?" and the human ie a teenager replies "that's my sister!!!" and starts rambling on about how she would never kill anyone (she tried eating him). you start projecting a little bit too much and both of you argue for a while and BOOM! HE THROWS AN AXE- SHIT- THE DEMON LEAPS AT HIM! SHE'S ABOUT TO EAT HIM-

it- no no no... she protected him under the impression that he was in danger despite being injured and not a single demon has ever done that before! she really might be different!! do you:

a) spare the demon

pros → she could be different, her brother has great potential and determination (he could become the next water pillar!), she hasn't killed anyone, you protect someone and follow your own principles.

cons → you're going against the rules meaning that there will be consequences, she can kill her brother later, you're going against rules, no one ever dared do this before, urokodaki probably won't help you out

b) kill the demon

pros → you don't break rules, the boy is certainly safe from her, you do your job, this decision is safer

cons → she's an innocent person, her brother lost everyone else (you failed to save them) and he'll probably be depressed, she really could have been different from other demons and it'd be a wasted chance.

in the end, giyuu spares her. his decision ignores what would be deemed as "common sense" just for the possibility of it being ethical and relies on logic as well as a bit of instinct. wouldn't it be terrible of him to kill an innocent girl who ended up unfortunate circumstances that he failed to prevent? anyone would've ended her before even reaching this point but currently he's in a position of a pillar, someone who should support people. sure, he's going against the law but does he care? giyuu abides to his principles strictly but how far will he go to for their sake? choosing not decapitate a demon is to go against everything the corps stands for and lose the respect of basically everyone. the corps exists exclusively for getting rid of demons. on a surface level, his disobedience would be deemed as immoral. but then again, the fundamental reason demons are assassinated is because they kill humans and nezuko has proven that she won't eat humans no matter the circumstances. he saw it with his own eyes. this shows that breaking rules doesn't automatically equate to immorality and they shouldn't be blindly followed. giyuu not letting rules restrict him and choosing to be open minded so that he can do what he deems as the right thing brings me so much life especially considering how the belief that killing without hesitation equates to being powerful is so enforced. giyuu doesn't mindlessly kill. he assesses his situation. he rethinks his choices. days after encountering the kamados, he's still thinking about his decision and mentally reciting tanjiro's words.

do u know the most fever dream-ish thing about this? he's put in another moral dilemma in the end with the same pair of siblings.. except that their dynamic is completely switched. sigh...

2) after the battle has ended, you find the boy whom you might as well refer to as family dead, start crying, and continuously saying sorry in your head and wait? is that a heart beat? blinking? OH SHIT-

TANJIRO TRANSFORMED INTO A DEMON. what do you do :3

a) attack and decapitate him

pros → everyone's efforts to eradicate demons won't all go to waste.

cons → you're probably going to die due to blood loss and exhaustion and the boy whom you protected for so long will die.

b) don't decapitate him

pros → you won't have to go through the mental torment of fighting.

cons → everyone is going to die and demons will continue to exist.

the choice might seem obvious but if you were the only conscious person, on the brink of death, and had to make a decision with such limited possibilities, acting quickly would be difficult. giyuu chooses the former. the deceased slayers and pillars did not die for this. I have seen some ppl call this blatant hypocrisy. "he's trying to kill tanjiro despite loving him" that's the point! does he want tanjiro dead? of course not. and yet, he still has to suck it up and fight him anyways because if he lets their bond affect his next decision, their work will go to waste and the remaining survivors will die. I cannot stress the development in this. before, he used to rethink his decision repeatedly to make sure that he's doing the right thing but now? he doesn't doubt himself and instantly does the right thing. I call this character development. he doesn't give up on the possibility that tanjiro could be kept alive but until that happens, he's making sure that no one dies. overall, his decision in more rational and selfless. he attempts to kill him quickly and-

WAIT- HE'S IMMUNE TO THE SUN? this situation has become hopeless and your chances of winning have been reduced to practically nothing. two more survivors attempt to help you out and BOOM

HE BITES HIS SISTER- WAIT HE'S NOT EATING HER? (this feels like horrible gameplay) so not only is he immortal and immune to the sun, he also has a bda. giyuu has no choice but to cling to the hope that tanjiro might have some humanity left in him and could be turned back into a human just like his sister. is his decision rational? no! nothing logical can be done in this situation anymore and the chances of an outcome that isn't failure is practically non-existent. but maybe he could save everyone. maybe he could turn tanjiro back human. maybe he could protect people and not fail again. he's still doing what he sees as the right thing knowing damn well that he's being irrational. (I genuinely believe that this fight with tanjiro is supposed to parallel his encounter with nezuko in the beginning because he's the person who fights him the most. the same pair of siblings where one of them is a demon while the other is desperately calming them down. no objectively correct choices. yet, he chooses to risk everything for the sake of possibly doing the morally good action and relies on intuition) more fighting happens, kanao arrives, uses medication on him, and with the power of friendship and will to live (and medication), he thankfully turns back to normal.

I love the way the narrative shows us that giyuu did the right thing in the end one way or another. sparing nezuko led to the final battle and eventually muzan's defeat and fighting tanjiro despite their close bond served as a distraction and helped in turning him back human. another cute detail I believe emphasizes this is that in kanji, the gi (義) in giyuu means justice and the yū (勇) translates to courage.

and here's the very last part of my delusional shitpost

giyuu is amazing, wonderful, *insert positive adjective* as a pillar. he understands the position he's in well. but as a coworker and employee? we see giyuu as the good guy because the story is told from tanjiro's pov and most of his actions can be defended because they were done for the greater good but do you know what can be difficult to excuse? his asocial behavior towards everyone (especially the pillars)

imagine you're shinobu here. you're (not so) peacefully doing your job and your coworker who is supposed to be on your side just decides to go against you and let a demon live without explanation. this panel shows how important context is. and do you know who would do literally anything but explain themselves? (tbf, he does try but is cut off. this applies more to his other shenanigans) if we had as much knowledge on this situation as shinobu, giyuu would be the one in the wrong. he somehow gets easier but also harder to defend later on in the meeting. even though giyuu was being a bit of an asshole to tanjiro after the fight with rui, he at least helped him and nezuko get away. when the morning arrives and tanjiro is literally injured, tied up, and surrounded by people who want him dead, giyuu was doing jack shit

he could be doing literally ANYTHING but stare into nothingness like that. buddy fight for your cause. and before anyone says that it's because of his inferiority complex, this is him by the way:

he prevents shinobu from doing her job, he distracts sanemi so that tanjiro can hit him strongly enough, and he grabs iguro's arm while simultaneously cutting the ropes off of tanjiro's wrists. giyuu does have an inferiority complex but he will take measures to get others out of his way if they attempt to harm the kamados ie result in him failing to protect them. if giyuu was actually scared of the pillars, he would not be doing any of this, let alone spare a demon. so giyuu was capable of defending tanjiro from the beginning. he simply chose not to do and only interfered when/after sanemi stabbed nezuko. (😭)

giyuu in general seems to stir up copious amounts of drama with the other pillars and when you reflect on all the shenanigans that happened between them until now, the realization that this is mainly giyuu's fault lowkey dawns upon you. the light novel confirms it

the manga confirms it

and whenever he does choose to speak, it's to insult people.

as we learn later on, giyuu's words were misinterpreted and his social isolation was a result of his imposter syndrome. but how far can this go? the hashira don't have the context that we do and giyuu just plays into their belief of him. if someone states "i'm not like you" anyone would perceive it as condescending especially considering how his facial expression is described to "make others think that he was looking down on them" in the LN. giyuu not wanting to talk to the pillars is one thing but not cooperating with them is a more significant problem. (especially when he refused to participate in the pillar training despite being aware of how much of a dire situation the corps was in. this is arguably the definition of hypocrisy) the LN states that all the pillars put effort into cooperating with each other no matter how hard it was for some of them and that giyuu was the only person who didn't bother doing so. this begs the question, can giyuu's behavior really be excused or defended? nope. don't defend him. he doesn't always have to be the good guy in every conflict. there is literally no logic behind his actions here. some of yall defend him too much especially considering how he canonically isn't the nicest. that's the dude who shamelessly knocked out a 13 year old. sure, his guilt plays a heavy role in his actions but this should only be used as an explanation not an excuse. "giyuu's behavior was heavily influenced by trauma and doesn't inherently mean that he's a bad person" and "giyuu is the person in the wrong and the pillars' hatred towards him is perfectly understandable" are two factual statements that can, in fact, coexist. *cue clapping*

conclusion paragraph? just stop reading!! (giyuu is inherently a good person who strives to do the right thing and values morality and logic regardless of any negative consequences as shown in the manga multiple times. however, he sometimes makes wrong decisions that are influenced by feelings more than anything because at the end of the day, he's meant to be a flawed character and that's fine)

"why is this five days late?" a weird mixture of internet problems, having to urgently travel, and mommy issues. sorry everyone 😔

[chigiridreams]

Summary: You have decided to try a new fetish with your boyfriend. You guarantee that Hyoma will enjoy it even if he has no such fetish

Warning: soft nsfw, footjob

Word Count: 942

SOLE SATISFACTION

That evening, you were having a relaxing time with your boyfriend. Your conversation was light, jumping from one topic to another, but there was something you had been wanting to ask for a long time. Finally, gathering your courage, you pursed your lips slightly and turned to him.

“Hyoma, have you ever thought about trying different fetishes?”

Hyoma tilted his head slightly as if in thought. “Hmm… I don’t think I have any specific fetishes. But I’m open to trying things,” he said with a slight smile.

That was exactly the answer you wanted to hear. Shifting slightly, you stretched out your legs and watched him with a seductive expression.

“For example, would you like me to give you a footjob?”

Hyoma paused for a moment. His eyes locked onto yours, then instinctively drifted to your feet. You knew he always found your legs attractive, but he seemed to have no particular thoughts about your feet. After a few seconds of silence, he smiled slightly.

“To be honest, I don’t have a foot fetish… but your touch always feels good… so why not?”

His answer satisfied you. Smiling softly, you sat up, slowly moving your toes as you slid them toward him. Hyoma seemed to hold his breath for a moment—he wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist your touch.

Meanwhile, your hands gently reached for his long, silky hair. Hyoma’s hair had an irresistible allure to you. Every time you were close to him, you had the urge to run your fingers through those soft, delicate strands. Noticing this, Hyoma raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Do you really love playing with my hair that much?”

As your fingers glided through his dark locks, you narrowed your eyes slightly.

“I love it even more than you think… It’s so soft that sometimes I just want to run my hands through it all day.”

Hyoma tilted his head slightly, letting out a pleased hum. “You’re spoiling me too much, you know?”

“This isn’t spoiling,” you said, pressing your foot against him a little more. “We’re just discovering different ways to have fun together.”

Hyoma took a deep breath, his eyes slowly closing. At that moment, he realized this experience would bring him more pleasure than he had initially thought.

You could feel Hyoma’s deep breaths, his body gradually surrendering to you. You became more intentional with your movements, determined to push him to the edge. First, you lightly brushed your toes against his hardened arousal, starting with gentle movements, just easing him into the sensation.

Hyoma leaned his head back, biting his lower lip. “This really…,” he murmured but couldn’t finish his sentence, as you dragged the sole of your foot slowly along his length.

“Go on, Hyoma. Tell me how it feels.”

Hyoma squinted his eyes at you, then hesitated for a moment before fully giving in to the sensation, spreading his legs slightly. Taking this as encouragement, you increased the intensity of your movements. You pressed the arch of your foot against him, keeping a steady rhythm.

Within minutes, you realized he was not only getting used to it but also enjoying every moment. First, you caressed him slowly with the side of your foot, then added a bit of pressure with your heel, offering him a different kind of stimulation. Hyoma let out shallow breaths in response to your touch.

“Shit, this… feels weird but incredible.”

Watching him with a sweet smile, you teased, “Good… Then let’s take it a little further, shall we?”

Lifting your foot slightly, you curled your toes around him, fully embracing his hardness. Now, there was no mere surface-level touch—your feet were completely enveloping him. To create a more slippery sensation, you added a slight bit of moisture, making your movements even smoother, sending shivers through Hyoma’s body.

“Y/N…” His voice was husky. He had completely surrendered to you. His hands unconsciously gripped the bed, and his legs trembled involuntarily. The faster you moved, the more intense his reactions became.

Hyoma’s head fell back, his breathing turning erratic. You quickened your pace just a little more, pushing him further toward his limit. When you tightened your grip with your feet, wrapping him completely, Hyoma suddenly let out a deep groan, his head dropping forward.

His entire body tensed, his muscles quivered, and he let out a shuddering breath. Then, warmth suddenly spread across your feet. The intense wave of release coated your skin completely. As Hyoma trembled, you took great satisfaction in watching the effects of your touch on him.

For a few seconds, the two of you simply sat there, catching your breath. Hyoma was still lost in the aftermath of pleasure, while you felt the sticky warmth on your feet. Smirking, you lifted your feet slightly, showing them to him.

“That got pretty messy, Hyoma.”

Hyoma opened his eyes to look at you, still trying to regain his composure. Then, his gaze dropped to your feet, and he frowned slightly. “Did you plan this?”

“Maybe,” you said with a playful giggle, shifting your feet slightly to emphasize the mess. “Looks like I need some cleaning up too.”

Hyoma took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you. “Then I guess I owe you something in return, don’t I?”

Hearing that, you locked eyes with him, excitement flickering in your gaze. If that meant he was willing to indulge in your own fetish as well…

That night was going to be a long one.

[burning-academia-if]

thinking about the angst of playing an MC who’s always reached out and tried to maintain a friendship with rook, but who was so tired and exhausted upon finally visiting rook that the moment things went awry and they came to after the horror of their hands being burnt and everything, the people they seek comfort and reassurance from us everyone except for rook. so like beck who seems understanding and capable, zoe who’s caring, rhea who sounds like she’s got her shit together. But for rook, the MC just keeps the relationship lukewarm, too tired to try to deepen it, because they need support after the new shit they’ve gone through, and all they’ve ever gotten from trying to get a proper friendship with them was hitting a shallow floor.

which. Is like, to me, playing the MC, understandable. But also!!! I’m the reader not just the MC!!! AND I FEEL SO BAD FOR ROOK, knowing that he was just trying to protect MC from said magical danger that just upturned MCs life and that rook probably blames himself for the danger they got into, and now blames himself for MC not reaching out a bunch and letting the relationship stay surface level and maybe a little more detached!! Like!! I love his character?? i love them all lmao, and also the writing for the supernatural and the wraiths?? so great. thank you for writing this :]

Tbh I love Rook because he gets Worse before he gets better (which I'd like to think is also understandable because from his perspective, he is the reason MC's life is completely and totally fucked up now), but its also the most frustrating thing in the world LMAO

I think Chapter 3 is where you really see why MC would consider him a 'fake' best friend but also why MC would potentially still want to be his friend despite it all. (But also, would MC really, when there are people willing to form that connection easily? A connection Rook has denied them for over a decade?)