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soulgazingwithbucky · 1 year

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Mr. Barnes, Teacher Aide of the Year (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Your brooding Avenger boyfriend becomes a regular visitor in your classroom.

Warnings: flufffffff

Word count: 1k

A/N: absolute self-indulgence - can you tell I miss being a teacher lmao? also Bucky with kids also grumpy bf/playful gf dynamic ugh my heart

When your first graders ask if you're bringing anything to the show-and-tell party, a lightbulb goes off

"I would be the coolest teacher ever if an Avenger came to visit!" "I dunno, doll..." "Come on, you're so good with Cass and AJ!" "That's different. They're family."

You try to convince him by telling him Steve has done a lot for schools. Bucky looks confused so you show him the Captain America Fitness Challenge and all of Steve's PSAs. This derails the conversation for at least 24 hours as Bucky descends into a record-breaking laughing fit. He laughs in bed with you, he laughs at the dinner table, he visits Steve's memorial to laugh with him there

Eventually, he agrees. You wake up to him ironing a henley and chinos. You tut at him and he shoots you a disbelieving look

"Ah, come on, love, cheer up," you tell him as you grab your work bag. He's waiting for you by the door, grumpy as ever in the black leather jacket and steel toe boots he wears on missions. You tighten the buckle across his chest as he scowls at you. "It's for the kids!"

You spend the car ride convincing Bucky that the kids will love him. He carries your bags into the building, but you stop him short at the entrance. He raises his eyebrow at you as you grip the leather sleeve on his left arm and pull. "Oh, come oooonnnn, doll!" he groans as you wave him into the building, detachable sleeve in tow. "Give the people what they want, babe!" you say.

You prepare your classroom for the day before the kids come in. Your room is suddenly the most popular in the building as staff filter in and out, hearing rumors that an Avenger would be in the building. Your principal insists that Bucky speak to the whole school next time. Your work best friend gives him a friendly hug- you all just had dinner the other night, after all. The entire third grade team comes and gets pictures, each of them marveling at a different muscle group on your boyfriend

Your students LOVE him. You eventually have to ask him to spend some time in the teacher's lounge so your class can focus on your lessons

After that, he becomes a monthly visitor. You create a makeshift "Mr. Barnes Day" on the class calendar. The kids count down the days till they see him again

You have to collect black and yellow crayons from the other classrooms. Your supply runs out too quickly because your kids can't stop drawing themselves with a metal arm

One of your students is having a particularly challenging day. Bucky thinks quickly and takes the rest of your kids outside for an impromptu recess. You help your student calm down, and then you both watch Bucky and the class through the window. The kids are absolutely piling on top of him. Your kids proudly declare that they defeated an Avenger when they go home to their families

It's clear one of your students favors Bucky over you, and only accepts help from Bucky when he visits. She asks Bucky for help with a math worksheet, and his eyes widen when he watches her try to solve it. "This is not how we learned it in the '20s," he whispers to you

Bucky comes home one day, proudly declaring that he has the perfect book to read aloud to the class. The cover is a cartoon drawing of an all-American man with a vibranium shield. He is so excited to read "The Hero from Brooklyn" to your students. The final pages even have drawings of him and Sam, "the best friends a hero could have." "Mr. Barnes, is that youuuu?!" your kids wonder.

You turn Bucky's age into the word problem of the day. "If Mr. Barnes is 25 + 83 years old, how old is he?" Your kids frantically calculate on their papers. "108?!?!" your kids yell. Lukas says that's older than his grandma. Nevaeh says that's older than her great-grandma. Raja gently begins to describe color to him, and you both realize she thinks Bucky sees in black and white

Your students beg Bucky to come in during spirit week. They've missed him dearly, as he has been gone for two months on assignment with Sam. Tuesday is Career Day, and he compliments all the little doctors and teachers as they step off the school bus. He is shocked to see a little kid in all black with their arm wrapped in foil. But more and more Buckies filter in, until he is surrounded by a sea of mini-mes. "We're gonna be superheroes when we grow up!!!" they yell, arms adorned in refashioned black tights, foil, and gold body paint. Bucky sheepishly asks if you can take a picture. Bucky usually hates taking pictures, and his request makes your whole year

You told your class that Bucky was just your friend, but your students are way too smart to believe that, especially after Bucky accidentally calls you "sweetheart" in front of them. Graham misses a day for his aunt's wedding; he comes back and asks if you two would invite the class to your wedding. The class loses their marbles over this, yelling, "Mrs. Barrnnessss!" at you. Bucky turns red. During snack, some of the kids draw pictures of what your ring should look like. You proudly hang it up on your fridge at home

At the end of the year, you invite your students' families to a class celebration. You do this every year, but this year has the best turnout (gee, you wonder why). You have a silly awards ceremony, with certificates celebrating "Most Dinosaur Facts Memorized" and "Best at Catching Their Teacher's Mistakes". Bucky is a puddle of pride and love in the corner until the kids demand he comes up. He's confused until they shove a certificate in his hand: "Mr. Barnes, Best Teacher Helper Ever"

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vicsbasement · 2 months

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Watching Charles closely I came to believe that he might have abandonment issues (for obvious reasons), so yeah, I guess he hasn’t been taking Carlos’ departure from the team very well… Of course Carlos isn’t actively abandoning him, but anyways

Ohmygod, anon. You're absolutely right. I mean, it's a logical response to his past trauma, too. I'm not presuming to know the guy, but from what I can see, I just feel like he's really going through the trenches right now. I'm not going to say that they're extremely close, but, just from what we've been able to see about their relationship and the way they talk about each other, I'm ready to assume that they really seem to be close, especially now that we can see Charles visibly reacting to Carlos' departure from the team. I'm pretty sure there's not an ounce of bad blood between them, especially since they've been seeming so much closer ever since before Vegas. I feel like their friendship had time to develop towards the end of their third year together (trauma bonding and all things provided by a very rocky Ferrari car that put them both in uncomfortable situations that only both of them could understand) and so, now that that was blooming, to have it taken from them must be tough. Carlos has been brought up to be much less emotional about his relationships in the paddock, based on interviews alone, yet I think he's been saving up some emotion for their alone time. Charles, though... he seems to be that guy who wears his heart on his sleeve sometimes, and when it comes to this, he doesn't seem too shy to let people know that he really does like Carlos as a teammate and as a person. I mean, they have so much in common, everyone's said it, Mattia, Fred, constantly talking about their competitiveness and how close they'd become when they started to make everything a race... and they probably know each other well. They've shared small spaces, probably had important conversations with one another, they're both in a position where nobody else would get it, except for the other. And they've never, EVER shown disrespect towards each other. So, yeah. Carlos might not be abandoning Charles, but they're both in rather similar situations, and to bring Lewis into the mix, Lewis, with the bigger salary, with the seven titles, with the past experience... it should be something that makes Charles take pause and probably appreciate what he has right now with a guy who's basically in the same level as himself in terms of... I don't know, I guess gravitas. Lewis has so much, and Charles has the whole team behind him, and yet he turns to Carlos as a friend? Maybe we're not seeing how much of an equal footing they have between each other. They've probably discussed even this between them and Charles must be feeling so comfortable with Carlos by his side... This whole thing rocks his whole world, and I would love Carlos' security just as much as Charles is probably appreciating it right now. Sorry, I got totally off the rails with this, but the point is: what this shows me is that Charles really does care, deeply, about Carlos. And it's a wonder to see, honestly. If I were to be completely honest, I saw their relationship much more unilaterally. I felt like Carlos liked Charles more than he liked Carlos. But right now? Wow. I really do see how much Charles seems to appreciate Carlos' company and friendship as a teammate. And it's an absolute relief to me. The fact that he started the year defending Carlos from the italian press and insisting, on record, that they should focus on the fact that they have a whole year together out of "RESPECT FOR CARLOS"? Wow, Charles. You had my eye, before, but right now, you finally caught my attention. Thank you for sending me this ask, anon! I love analyzing stuff and the content has been pouring lately, so I love just to be able to talk about these two guys without restraints 😅

#Charlos #vic talks #ask #anon #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc #you guys stop liking the post and JOIN THE CONVERSATION I WANT TO KNOW YOUR TAKES #charlos thoughts

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virgobingo · 4 months

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What's your take on the way Gojo dresses after being unsealed? Other than the fact the after he changed outfit he got killed, so maybe he shouldn't have done that...also, merry Christmas/have a happy Monday!

happy holidays! hope you're well :)

gojo's outfits can be tied to his emotional arc. i know you asked specifically of his outfits after being unsealed but i think context is needed to see where i'm coming from.

when we first meet gojo in jjk0, his outfit is oversized and his eyes are covered— it hardly gives away his body language, or any emotions he's feeling, really, unless he's being particularly boisterous.

which sort of makes him an enigma to his students who haven't been in jujutsu society as long as he has; who don't know him or his past. the scene where he goes from sunglasses and casual clothes (when he meets the higher-ups) to bandages and uniform (when he goes to meet his students) comes to mind.

while the bandages within the world of jujutsu kaisen maybe simply serve the purpose of relieving the strain in gojo's eyes. on a meta level, they also hide a lot. the eyes are the window to the soul after all. a lot of cultures believe this— japanese included, though it seems that the idiom goes, "the eyes are the mirror of the heart" instead.

which is ofc why they're completely uncovered when gojo meets geto at the end of jjk0. and also why, framing-wise gege distances the reader from the scene. we only see the back of gojo's head in the manga when he says the words that fluster geto. in the anime adaptation, we only see his lips. his eyes aren't shown to us (only geto sees them then), creating the sense that we're kind of intruding.

this all leads me to believe that gojo's eyes being covered is strongly tied to the masking or suppression of his emotions. his blindfold later in the series serves the same purpose.

so when gege decided to depict gojo with his hand over his eyes instead of a blindfold (precisely after having him mention his "dream")— gege probably wanted gojo to be perceived as someone that is both honest and yet still omitting some information. specifically about where his "dream" stems from (his blue spring/geto). it's worth mentioning that his jacket is uncharacteristically zipped down a little too (chapter 11, p. 2).

as for his youth, gojo sported glasses most of the time. it seems to represent his haughty attitude? him speaking his mind brazenly. since he can easily tilt his head or remove his glasses to show his eyes. as an adult, he uses them when he spoke to the higher-ups as i meantioned before in jjk0, during the baseball game he proposed for the students' sake, and in megumi's flashback (and some other minor instances).

so overwhelmingly, at this point, it seems like gojo doesn't sport eye coverings at all in (1) serious battle, or (2) when he's confronting geto emotionally (when he seeks him out) or being confronted by his feelings surrounding geto (when he hears about what he's done). gojo's clothing is also overwhelmingly loose. he doesn't ever show much skin, and he mostly wears long sleeves. especially as an adult.

i want to say everything shifts after shibuya, where he's confronted with himself (and his past); the feelings that he's repressed. (remember the eyes are the mirror of the heart?)

so when he's eventually freed from the prison realm, his uniform jacket is torn to pieces and he's not wearing his blindfold over his eyes (that we know for a fact he had with him when he was sealed).

something that stands out to me too, is how he doesn't ever cover his eyes again after this. also how the first thing he chooses to see is geto's body. as if he is no longer suppressing the truth. he is bearing his heart to the world; he goes on to be extremely sincere to many people. my favorite example being his conversation with ijichi.

later, in shinjuku, during what is essentially a ceremony of jujutsu to determine who is the challenger (him or sukuna), gojo dons traditional robes. i think this is purely because of the context. worth noting, gakuganji and utahime who represent kyoto, otherwise known as "jujutsu's sacred land" are also present.

gojo quickly disposes of the robes once the pleasantries are out of the way,

and basically goes on to shine as himself to the very end, until we're shown his face more intimately than we have ever seen it before—

(right after we see him encounter his blue spring/geto again, and he tells geto everything about his fight as well as how he always wanted him by his side).

#hope this is coherent #gojo satoru #satosugu #jjk analysis

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hischierdevils · 1 year

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Best Years | J.M.

note: the fact that there is no marino content on this app should be a crime. this was inspired by Best Years by 5sos

summary: y/n has to leave john behind in order to follow her dreams. can they find their way back to each other?

warnings: angst, mentions of alcohol and throwing up

wc: 1.5K

You've got a million reasons to hesitate

But darlin', the future's better than yesterday

I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you

Gave you a million reasons to walk away

Meeting John at a bar in Pittsburgh on a rare night out seemed like fate but you knew it was a temporary situation. John’s focus was on hockey, playing for the Penguins, and yours was on finishing your degree at your parents orders and getting the hell out of town.

Hooking up with him turned into late night facetimes and texts when he was out of town. John wore his heart on his sleeve and warned you early on that he was falling for you. You told him your relationship had an expiration date, once you graduated you were gone.

He agreed, even though it hurt him to think of you as someone temporary in his life. The day of your college graduation, he showed up in a nice suit holding a large bouquet of flowers. He cheered you on as you walked across the stage and in return, you broke up with him.

He was devastated but you reminded him that the two of you were always going to end that way. You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on how you were feeling, you just packed your bags and moved to New York City, determined to become a dancer and prove your parents wrong.

Things were rough at first, grinding away at two different jobs in between auditions. You were always so busy that it took a while for you to realize how much you actually missed him. Once you did, you tried filling the void with other guys that seem to resemble John in one way or another.

He was always your biggest supporter and when you book your first Broadway show, he’s the first person you want to call. You haven’t talked to him in months and you wouldn’t blame him if he never wants to hear from you again but you find yourself calling anyway.

Not only does he pick up the phone, but the two of you talk for hours. He just got traded to the New Jersey Devils and now lives twenty-five minutes away from you. At the end of the conversation, you agree to meet up for dinner to catch up.

I wanna hold your hair when you drink too much

Carry you home when you cannot stand up

You did all these things for me when I was half a man for you

I wanna hold your hand while we're growing up

For the last six weeks, the two of you have been talking non-stop. You’ve gone to a couple of his games, sitting down by the ice wearing his jersey. You’re both taking things slow, easing your way back into friendship. You know you hurt him and he’s a little more guarded with his heart this time around.

John comes to opening night with Dawson and Jack in tow. When the show is over, he finds you backstage with a large bouquet of flowers in hand. You can tell he’s nervous when you greet him with a kiss on the cheek. He’s probably thinking about the last time he brought you flowers.

“Hey, you were amazing.” He smiles at you before handing you the flowers. “These are for you.”

“You’re the sweetest, Johnny.” You can’t help but grin as you bring the flowers to your nose to smell them. “But I was only a member of the entourage.”

“But you were the most beautiful one up there.” He blushes as he says it, immediately thinking he’s overstepped.

“Y/n, is your boyfriend coming to the after party?” Lylah, one of the other dancers, asks you.

You and John talk at the same time. “Oh, he’s not my-”

“I’m here with my friends-”

“If they're half as cute as you honey, I'd love for them to come.” Lylah winks at John before walking away and you feel a little bubble of jealousy in your gut as you turn your head to look at him.

“If you have plans that’s okay.” You tell him.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Do you want me there?”

Your heart squeezes at the double meaning of his words. “Of course I do.” You’ve already messed this up once, you’re not going to push him away again.

John, Jack, and Dawson head to the club with you and your friends to celebrate your opening night. Everyone notices that John doesn’t let go of your hand but no one mentions it since the two of you seem to be pointedly ignoring it.

As the night progresses, the pull you feel for John gets stronger and stronger. You want him to hold you in his arms like he did before you ruined everything but you know you can’t ask that of him anymore so you drink instead.

When you seem to be having trouble walking on your own, John calls it a night. He doesn’t want to overstep with you, but he also wants to make sure you get home safely. “Y/n, where are your keys?” He asks you as he helps you out of the bar. Jack left a little while ago with a girl so Dawson helps him hold you up.

“Wanna go with you, Johnny.” You mumble as you rest your head on his shoulder.

John bites his lip, debating on if he wants to go through your purse or not. He could easily take you with him to his apartment but it’ll kill him in the morning when you leave. “I’m gonna get you home, y/n.”

You look over at Dawson with squinty eyes. “The tequila comin’ back.” Dawson barely has time to step out of the way before you’re puking on the sidewalk. John grabs your hair and uses his hand to hold it in a ponytail as your body heaves your stomach contents up.

“It’s okay.” He whispers to you as you start to cry. “You’re okay.” He wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb as he decides to bring you to his place. He’s not sure if your roommates are home and he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the state you’re in.

“Mmm so sorry Daw-son.” You mumble as you fully lean into John’s side.

“It’s alright.” He smiles at you reassuringly. “I’ve watched hockey players do keg stands. You’re fine.”

John ends up giving you a piggyback ride to where Dawson’s car is parked and he sits in the backseat with you as the three of you go to New Jersey. He gives you some of his clothes to sleep in and you manage to change into them yourself before passing out in his bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable on your side before taking his pillow and going to sleep on the couch.

But I'll build a house out of the mess

And all the broken pieces

I'll make up for all of your tears

I'll give you the best years

The first thing you do when you wake up in the morning in a strange room with men’s clothes on is panic. You have no memory of leaving the club or flirting with any guys. Your stomach rolls with nausea at the thought of you hooking up with someone-anyone that isn’t John. He was with you last night. Did he watch you leave with someone else? He’s never going to talk to you again.

You hear footsteps in the hallway and quickly close your eyes, not yet ready to meet whatever stranger is going to be walking through the door.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice says your name softly as you hear the door open. “Are you awake?”

You open your eyes to see John standing beside the bed watching you with concern. “John? Oh, god. What did I do?” You sit up quickly which seems to be a bad idea, and John quickly picks up a garbage can from the floor so you can dry heave into it.

“Nothing happened, y/n.” He explains as he holds your hair back for you. “You were drunk and I brought you here so I knew you were alright.”

You start crying again from his kindness. “I’m so sorry I fucked everything up between us.” You tell him. “I never meant to hurt you. You were the best thing in my life. I just had to get away from my parents and prove I could do it-”

You start sobbing so hard that he gets in bed beside you and pulls you to his chest. “It’s alright, y/n. You told me from day one that that’s how it was going to be. I fell in love with you anyway.”

“Do you-” You hiccup. “Do you think you could love me again?”

He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I never stopped loving you.”

You pull your tear-stained face away from his body to look at him. “Can I be your girlfriend again?”

He smirks because you never referred to yourself as his girlfriend before but now doesn’t seem like the right time to say that. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want to be, I'm yours.”

#john marino imagine #john marino fic #john marino reader insert #john marino x reader #john marino #my writing

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 10 days

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For the ship game: Leopika and Hisoillu! I don't know your ship taste well so I'm just hitting a couple other big HxH ships hrjfjkjkdlgdfk hope you don't mind

Oh, I don't mind at all, Percy! :)

Hisoillu is... I mean... they are kind of sort of engaged (?) so. Yeah, it makes sense. Also, I can think of no one else in the universe who should be subjected to close proximity with these two on a regular basis hdfhbsdhj. Congrats, you're perfect for each other, just never involve anyone else in what you've got going on ever. Truthfully, I'm kind of indifferent towards it as a ship. It makes sense to me, but it's not something I actively seek out in fanworks I suppose. It's just, yeah, Hisoka and Illumi are together. Happy for them lol. I guess it's mostly because I think murder is their love language and I just... can't see them being romantic with each other in a lot of the more typical ways that characterize many fanworks. Do they want to kill each other, or are they into each other? The answer is both - the murder is an intrinsic aspect of the "being into each other" hdjfbvhd. That said, I think they have a pretty healthy respect for each other, due to probably being evenly matched, I'd say. I think Hisoka genuinely finds Illumi good company, and Illumi readily has fairly casual conversations with Hisoka. Their dynamic is kind of fascinating actually, and I do honestly think they're kind of perfect for each other. Diversity win??? Loss??? I'm honestly not sure lmao

Leopika :') I love the potential for them. Sadly, they don't have all that many interactions in the canon manga, so I would ordinarily say it doesn't make a huge amount of sense, but then we have the 99 anime and the radio skits who seem determined to ship them so hfbgjdhj I have no clue. I'm weird about this ship because I tend to alternate between "yeah they're cute" and "oh god. oh god. them. AAARGGHHH" and experiencing emotional damage hahaha. I am like this with no other ship. It's very strange to me.

The one thing is that I'm extremely picky with Kurapika characterization, in any art or story. If Kurapika doesn't read right to me, I just can't suspend my disbelief. I'm really not big on the "mom and dad" characterization, though no shade to anyone who is.

Peak Leopika dynamic to me takes into account not just Leorio's concern and Kurapika's walls, but also their mutual stubbornness and Kurapika's hilarious tendency to annoy Leorio on purpose. To me, I've always felt that he likes Leorio because he's a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve and values individual lives so strongly, so he kind of checks that he hasn't changed that much when they see each other. I think it's kind of relieving for Kurapika, in a way, to know that Leorio will always be himself - "same old Leorio" kind of deal.

I also think Kurapika is just a little shit hjgbvsjdh

But no, I love that Leorio clearly eases up some of the pressure Kurapika feels, and seems to make him feel better about things- that's probably half the reason he keeps him at arms length. I think affectionate bickering is their love language. I also wish people noticed a little more that it's Kurapika who actually seriously initiated friendship between them, not Leorio. In most cases in the Hunter Exam, it was Kurapika approaching Leorio and showing a clear interest in sticking with him and helping him pass and achieve his dream. I think it's incredibly meaningful that one of the first people Kurapika meets and takes a liking to is this guy who wants to become a doctor - the doctor that Kurapika had left in the first place to go looking for. Anyways, I'm really looking forward to see what role Leorio will play in the current arc (just to have more Leorio, honestly, pls Togashi I miss him...), as I'm sure he will eventually find out about Emperor Time and OH BOY I'm sure that will go over well.

Erm. Sorry for rambling. I had a lot to say apparently...

#storyrambles #thanks for the ask!#ask game #hxh

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invisibleraven · 9 months

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Reggie does his best not to gape at the woman shivering on his doorstep. It's been years, but he'd know those eyes anywhere.

(For Rulie, I figured you wouldn't mind the extra sentence lol)

Reggie does his best not to gape at the woman shivering on his doorstep. It's been years, but he'd know those eyes anywhere.

He ushers her inside, wrapping her in an overly large towel once her outer layers are dripping in his mudroom. Presses a steaming cup of tea into her shivering hands, observing as she quietly sipped it.

"I'd ask how you've been but..." he looks away, unable to bear seeing her this pathetic, this sad. Not after he left and she had been shining like the sun, on the arm of the golden boy while his own heart and unspoken confession died when she showed him the ring.

"I didn't know where else to go," she whispered. "My family is out of the country, and he alienated me from everyone else. I still had your address from the Christmas card, so I packed what I could and just... left. I'm sorry to put you out."

"It's no problem Julie," he offers back. "I'm thrilled to be your safe harbour, no matter how much I wish you hadn't needed one." He runas a hand over his face, breathing out a breath. "Look, you can tell me as much or as little as you want. But first let's get you a shower and some dry clothes and we can talk over dinner okay?"

She nods mutely, and he escorts her to the bathroom. He still has some stuff that Kayla never came back for, it should fit. Lays it out on the vanity before skedaddling off to make food. He's no master chef but a can of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich he can do.

She doesn't say much as she eats; voracious, like she had been starving, or maybe it was just to avoid the inevitable conversation she's trying so hard to avoid. So he catches her up on the guys, his own life, this quiet, simple existence he's carved out for himself.

She eventually opens up, but the story is written all over her skin, the way she favours her left side, the way she tugs the sleeves down over her hands, flinches if he gets too close. "I'm sorry Julie."

She shakes her head. "You all told me. Warned me what a rotten guy he was. Should of known myself when we spent so many years engaged and never planned a wedding. I guess it's easier that way..."

"It doesn't make it right," he replies. "And it's not your fault."

"But..."

"No." He's fierce about it, wishing he could hold her hand, but he's been that small shivering creature before, he knows her defenses are up. "It's never the victim's fault. Trust me, I would know."

Her eyes are full of inquiry, so he rubs the back of his neck and tells her everything. It's hard, and the both of them shed more than a few tears, ponder more than one what if. Until the skies are lightening, and they're both yawning.

He offers her his bed, the couch pulls out, he'll be fine. And she can stay as long as she wants. She says she'll be gone in the morning, and grants him a kiss to the cheek before closing the door between them.

Reggie's not sure how long he stays up, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could keep her here. Keep her safe. Hates his traitorous heart that pangs with those long dead feelings reviving themselves with just one smile.

And in the morning, he isn't surprised to find the pile of clothes and a note expressing thanks on his empty bed. But under that, is a little x next to her name, and he just has to hope that Julie knows she can always come back.

That she'll always have a home here, with him.

And when she shows up a few weeks later, smiling wide and more free than he's seen her in ages, he thinks she does too.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rulie #julie and the phantoms #five sentences? who knows her?

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searchingforserendipity25 · 11 months

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Elwing/Eärendil and or Turgon/Finrod? 💗

thank you so much @swanmaids! <3

elwing/eärendil

i usually think of them as childhood friends to lovers, in the most classic, truly-felt sense, but the variety of options is so interesting.

child monarchs with an arranged marriage in name only, strangers who quickly become lovers, who later find out the other is the prince/princess of the city's other half of the populace, mistaken identity shenanigans - plenty of fair-haired mannish mariners around balar, while elwing has internalized the idea that she has to tone down constantly her otherworldly presence and can pass as an elf most of the time.

any of them is good! the end result is the same. the big square - the trumpets of the iathrim, and flutes of gondolin. a thousand eyes on them, and two people's expectations and hopes, numberless griefs. they are wed. they are fruitful. they are a family.

they are a family. they are close to each other when it is such an effort and a danger to be close to anyone. they understand each other's trauma. elwing delights in the earth and eärendil in the sea, and in the end they both belong to the heavens. but they're each other's grounding place, always.

btw, i am lowkey obsessed with the fact that all seabirds are said to travel to elwing's tower. all of them, john ronald? does she single-handedly change a thousand years of migration patterns in the wake of the destruction of beleriand, or what. this is an insane line. does eärendil watch the vast flocks from the heavens, a single moving shadow upon the surface of arda, and rejoice because his wife will be joyful and in good company?

maybe not. but eärendil definitely keeps coming home to the most fantastic combination of colourful feathers of every kind, and it is the single most beautiful spectacle in nature, i mean, mind-breakingly gorgeous. but most glorious still is the small smile on elwing's cheeks when small fledglings attempt their first flight by jumping from the shelter of her arms, certain she will grab them if they fail.

eärendil gave her the choice. elwing has had so few choices, and he has always wanted her to have all that which she most wanted.

(and they are happy. it is so important that, one day, some days, they are as happy as they can be).

turgon/finrod

they!!! the lads! the nerds themselves! where to even begin. they are bffs and fwb and qpr and secretly married and fond exes. everyone who wants something about them should go read @sallysavestheday's Keep Your Secrets.

i want to have so many more thoughts on them because i love this ship so much. but one thing i am sure of is that they invent a new word in beleriand specifically so they can do the fun 'start calling each other partner naturally and never explain anything to anyone' fashion.

finrod carved busts of turgon in nargothrond and showed them to every visitor, told beor a hundred tales of his dearest friend. there was a small, fist-sized miniature in turgon's long sleeves, a two-sided thing with elenwe on one side and finrod in the other, two halves of the same whole (and the whole is turgon's heart).

actually i think they only get officially together post-mandos, in the shared-life sense, whatever that looks for them by then. build a city; start a mellower revolution. every conversation feels like picking up the thread of a long discourse, even after hundreds of years, or after death; and it is the most interesting conversation in the world, every time.

it's fluid, it's open. comfortable. vivid! so much is strange after rebirth, but they are never strangers to each other. recognize each other absolutely after ruin and hubris and horror, when making the way through estrangement is a foundational experience in rebirth.

they are most trustworthy and familiar and dear person in the room in every room to each other, the one they can leave behind without remorse because they know they will always find their way back together at the end of any long separation.

it is whatever they need it to be, and their faith in their connection and in each other is strong enough that it never fades.

#elwing/earendil #turgon/finrod #ship ask #thank you!#i love them!

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backjustforberena · 3 months

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I love things that examine the relationship between Rhaenys and Rhaenyra, they're in a unique club that only otherwise includes the deceased Aerea and Rhaena iirc.

Rhaenys seems to be a mystery to Rhaenyra, dismissed for 'not fighting' or not she does something that most near Rhaenyra do not and keeps everything close to the vest. Rhaenyra is used to Targaryens who wear their heart on their sleeves, no hiding their emotions to any degree, to courtiers and lords who show their anger and annoyance easily, but then there's Rhaenys who doesn't react to provocation, or Rhaenyras attempts to goad her.

Rhaenyra tries to invoke the same anger response in Rhaenys that she has about Viserys and Laena, but she just doesn't get it and that baffles the teenager. And I frankly love that.

Rhaenyra might have been better off if she'd had someone like Rhaenys to teach her how to temper her reactions and bide her time on things.

My opinion is that even Rhaena, Aerea, Rhaenys and Rhaenyra are very different to one another, even if they broadly all come under the umbrella of being female heirs. Their situations, their relationship to the Crown, the circumstances surrounding any possible succession that might have been (or, in Rhaenyra's case, might be, if we look at her in Episode 02) as well as their personalities and experiences are very, very different.

And it's these differences that are also a part of that conversation with Rhaenyra and Rhaenys, and quite a core one as well. Rhaenyra is viewing it as though they are the same. That it's easy: the lords rejected Rhaenys but they bent the knee to Rhaenyra, so she wins, easy-peasy. Rhaenys is wise enough to know that having your dad make the lords bend the knee, when there is not a male heir, is not the same as giving the lords the freedom to make a choice they want to make, when there is the option of a male heir. Rhaenyra's point of view about Viserys having a son is different to Rhaenys's perspective on Viserys having a son and, more particularly, what will happen when he has that son.

I do think Rhaenys is a mystery to Rhaenyra, like you say. Not only in the conversation in Episode 02, but throughout the series. I don't think Rhaenyra ever truly is able to predict what Rhaenys will do or how she feels on a subject until or unless Rhaenys chooses to make that opinion known. They both deal with politics in very different ways; they're very different people in different situations. So when they come head to head, Rhaenys generally prevails, even if in the grander scheme of things is that Rhaenyra is the "winner" - though, to be honest, that's usually down to others such as Viserys or even Rhaenys's own actions.

And part of that mystery for Rhaenyra is what you've said: Rhaenys does not act like a Targaryen as Rhaenyra knows them or understands them. Whilst we have many characters with Targaryen blood, including her mother, Rhaenyra probably views Targaryen qualities as those exhibited by herself, Daemon and Viserys.

She probably holds Daemon as being what a Targaryen ought to be in terms of personality and other aspects such as High Valyrian usage and riding a dragon and having that sense of exceptionalism and pride in such heritage. Her father has that, and his own anger and links with their lineage and the authority he holds as King, so she knows that as well. And they all, as you say, have their heart on their sleeves, to an extent.

Rhaenys? She doesn't follow that pattern. The easy reason for that is because of the Great Council and the lasting effect that has on Rhaenys's position. That's not something that Rhaenyra is willing to or able to see, certainly not in Episode 02. You've got a completely unbothered woman but everyone is intimidated by her. She's a dragon-rider but not a Queen, she's a Targaryen but a Velaryon. She's unreadable. Paradoxical.

Rhaenyra can't converse with her like she does with Daemon. She can't act as she does with Viserys either. They don't know each other well enough and Rhaenys is, in Rhaenyra's mind (not in Rhaenys's - she isn't threatened at all and doesn't want to be threatening in turn), a foe. So, Rhaenyra tries goading, tries the usual strikes, tries to elicit anger and bases the whole conversation on the idea that that's exactly what Rhaenys is trying to do back to her.

But it's not. Rhaenys doesn't care to bring Rhaenyra's down. It's not her job and, as far as Rhaenys is concerned, she's not necessary to bring Rhaenyra down to size. Rhaenyra is doomed either way - in a similar way that she was. Rhaenys is there to, yes, probably get some perverse pleasure from showing off her own intellect and power to deflect from thoughts regarding Laena because it's all she can do, but also to educate Rhaenyra. Warn her. And she does so, despite Rhaenyra's hostile and bratty behaviour. She could have left at the insults, but instead, she delivered the message: you are probably not going to become Queen because of X, Y and Z. Brace yourself.

Rhaenyra uses the most juvenile ways to anger Rhaenys in that conversation. She asks if it bothers Rhaenys, about Laena: of course it does. But that's not going to change Rhaenys. She's not going to react to that - she will react, but it's not for everyone to see. Plus, that's not something new to her, even - being bothered. She lives with that. So, Rhaenyra brings up a name that Rhaenys has been hearing for over a decade: an easy shot and one that Rhaenys easily and completely fires back on. It's just utter failure. It provokes Rhaenys, I think, but it doesn't destabilise her. It doesn't make her sloppy and it doesn't give Rhaenyra anything remotely like the upper hand.

Rhaenys remains controlled - pretty much exactly as she remains controlled in Episode 08, the only other one-on-one scene we have with the pair. She remains above it all. She doesn't bring herself down to the mud of it all. She doesn't show her cards, she has a poker face, she remains pretty remote. But inside, in a part that no one else is allowed to see, Rhaenys is feral. I completely believe this. She's just taught herself to keep it caged. What she does in the Dragonpit? That's been inside of her for thirty years. That chaos, that destruction, has been within her capabilities all of these decades and she's chosen not to do it, despite all the hurt and all the reasons. To me, that's terrifying. That's a Targaryen.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys targaryen

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fragileizywriting · 8 months

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"they want you to forget that girls are made of meat."

okay, okay. okay. okay, okay, okay. not exactly what he expected his luka to say, but then again, he's probably (hopefully) spitting out absolute nonsense because adrien's not paying attention. he's in the middle of conversing with tikki, trying to find a way back home— he has a marker, somehow they've found a few scraps of paper, and they're doodling plans on how to get the akuma to show back up and take them home and still manage to not hurt people in this universe— but his concentration is completely shot dead with the admission of one of the arguably weirdest sentences he's ever heard in his entire life.

so he looks up.

"try again?" adrien asks.

"they want you to forget that girls are made of meat."

"i appreciate you repeating yourself," adrien drawls, lips quirking up at the sides even though he's stressed to the point of pulling at his hair. how many cups of coffee has he had in the past two hours alone? no one's complained when he's made his crawl to the coffee pot, and it seems like every time he pours coffee, it's still steaming and hot and there's sugar in the cupboard, so it doesn't seem like it's offensive to anyone in the house. who knows, though. the older luka usually looks disappointed whenever he passes by, though says absolutely nothing. "what's your point, though?"

"girls."

that's when the other adrien starts chortling— it's half wheeze, half laugh, something like he's got something stuck in his throat but can't afford to get it out because he's too busy hiding behind a hand. he's on the other side of the dining table, setting down his book, raising a brow (is he allowed to call it an elegant brow, even if it's someone who looks nearly identical to him? there's an air of posh to him, something rich, something that he just can't explain.) in the young luka's direction.

"need a chew toy, luka?" the other adrien teases.

luka's emboldened, now that everyone's giving him attention. after all, it's only the four of them, because both marinette's had left to go shopping, suspiciously waving the other adrien's plastic card like she was trying to flag a ship down, claiming that she couldn't wait to max it out. the lack of worry from anyone at the admission made adrien sweat. but the older luka strums away at the guitar, and the older adrien reads his book, and his luka goofs off on his phone, and adrien continues to plan on how to get out of this universe as fast as possible so they're not intruding.

but luka. luka, luka, luka. luka, who owns a predator miraculous, cannot sit still for longer than a few minutes, poor guy. it's in the way his leg is constantly moving, and his hands are spinning god knows what, always needing something to fiddle with.

so it doesn't surprise adrien at all when luka leans forward in his chair, black inky hair falling over his brows, and lips quirking in that boyish way that gets adrien's heart racing all the time. "all i'm saying is, you ever look at a girl and think about how squishy they are?"

yes. often.

"are you talking about kitty?"

"just in general."

huh. well. "she's mostly muscle," adrien finds himself lobbying. "she's soft, but her thighs are all beef."

"i like beef."

"she'll put you in a chokehold."

luka looks undeterred. "this isn't going to make me not want this."

older luka interrupts with a noncommital hum. "you could hurt someone if you actually bite, though."

"oh, tell me about it." the younger luka rolls his eyes, pulling up his long-sleeve. right there, nestled in between giant snake tattoos, are indents from someone's mouth— adrien was there for the story, where kitty had finally given in and had latched like a bear trap, right on luka's arm when he'd been annoying her to the point of frustration. she'd refused to let go. luka knew better than to pull her away, and instead, was crushing her into his arm so she would have to let go in order to breathe. adrien had walked in on what he presumed to have been the weirdest foreplay in existence, with kitty hissing and spitting and luka growling right back.

luka's eyes are shining with admiration and fondness. "this came from kitty."

"you wear it like a souvenier," the other adrien muses.

"it is. after all, it's not every day a girl bites the jesus out of you. they just forget to tell you that girls are biteable, too."

"you planning on biting one day?"

"we've got to wear matching bitemarks, don't we?"

adrien murmurs to tikki to remind him to always carry a video camera on him, just for the occassion.

#speakizys #demon lovin #sharks and sugar #izycrossover

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crimeboyisms · 2 years

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What I enjoy about c!Tommy and c!Wilbur’s relationship a lot is discussing how their characters tend to mirror each other, and it’s interesting how they depict parallels or contrasts depending upon how they're examined. At their core they seem similar, but there are certain aspects of their ideals, worldviews, and mindsets that set them apart from one another in a way which provides good material for analysis and gives them a well-rounded dynamic within the story that communicates a compelling and cohesive narrative, both individually and together.

With their ideals, c!Tommy and c!Wilbur’s shared values built the foundations of L’manburg and a legacy which prevails even now despite its destruction, and still affects their characters and others today. The spirit of resistance in the face of an unjust authority and the willingness to stand up for what they cared about no matter the circumstances lived on in its members, and no one was more true to this than c!Tommy and c!Wilbur. Though they kept this ideology with them, they both had different approaches and applications in how they expressed and upheld them, which fall in contrast to each other in this case.

c!Tommy has always been more direct with his feelings; through his words, through his actions, he wears his heart on his sleeve and is generally an easier character to read because of this. This nature of his tends to show in how he approaches conflicts and applies his ideals. During conflicts, his first instinct is to stay and to fight, for what or for who he cares about, regardless of the odds against him. This is shown before the events of November 16th when he and c!Tubbo discuss leaving the server behind and he says he needs to stay behind for L'manburg and for c!Wilbur, and even later on during the community house confrontation when he sides with c!Tubbo and New L'manburg for the sake of his friends and c!Wilbur's legacy. He'll stay true to this trait even despite it not being in his best interests, even if it risks his well-being and his life, or jeopardizes his personal objectives. Sometimes this is his downfall when combined with his impulsiveness and his aggression, as is the case when he incites conflicts rather than solving them. Overall though, one of c!Tommy's core characteristics is his heart, and I don't think he should be faulted for it.

c!Wilbur, by comparison, has the tendency to be more subtle in his own approach, and truly does value using his words over his actions since that is where his strengths lie. He prefers to weave narratives and debate his point to an opponent or strategize and think through his approach. Though he will occasionally engage physically, it isn't usually his first plan of action. This doesn't mean he lacks the heart c!Tommy does, in fact he matches him in that respect, though he makes more of an effort to conceal that part of himself to remain stoic and keep a level head. Unfortunately, he'll fall into a pattern of avoiding an issue or a conflict, whether that be by retreating into himself, doing so in a more physical sense by bodily removing himself from the situation, occupying/involving himself elsewhere, or by using misdirection in a conversation. He does genuinely want to change or to resolve the current issue, but he has trouble directly confronting situations and people for fear or failure or rejection. He hasn't yet had this trait addressed in its entirety, and as of now he seems to be in the midst of confronting that part of himself for his conclusion.

There will be exceptions to the rule, of course. c!Tommy and c!Wilbur both subvert their usual fight or flight defaults in some instances. For c!Tommy, he foregoes his instinct to fight when he escapes exile and during almost all encounters where he's alone with c!Dream thereafter by choosing to flee, and Wilbur becomes much more physically confrontational when his emotions run high and the people he cares about are directly at stake, as he did when c!Niki was being persecuted and treated unfairly by c!Schlatt and when he confronted c!Dream after learning about the abuse c!Tommy suffered in exile.

c!Tommy and c!Wilbur also have similar mindsets regarding how they perceive themselves and others within the server, which fundamentally influences how their characters interact with people and react to events, as well as how their characters develop. The aspect of roles, both self-imposed and assumed by others, play a major part in their characterization and development even now. Combined with their originally black and white view of the world, which diverge from each other as c!Tommy and c!Wilbur develop separately, it leads to an interesting dichotomy between them.

For c!Tommy, this mindset is a central point of conflict in his character's development throughout the story. He has a complicated relationship with the roles assigned to him and internalized within himself. A core part of his character's development throughout his story is reconciling with others expectations and perceptions of him by either accepting or denying them in a brutal cycle he still struggles with even now. In his mind, it was black and white in that whoever was "with them" was "good" and whoever was "against them" was "bad", and the roles he assumed of himself and others reflected this. The events of November 16th forced him to consider thinking outside of the "us versus them" mindset and adapt it into something more nuanced, but this was still just the start of that shift. Moving forward into the beginning of the exile conflict and following arc, c!Tommy still holds onto those roles, but this is where it begins to change from something almost positive into something negative. c!Tommy's roles in his story were, up until this point, a combination of expectations/perceptions given to him by others as well as expectations/perceptions he gave himself. When c!Wilbur assigned him the duty of being his right hand man, he shouldered that role and all that came with it with pride. When c!Wilbur challenged his status later on, he challenged him right back. Even despite his position as "lower" in the hierarchy, c!Tommy was still an individual with his own will and was outspoken in his opinions. In exile, that fire and that opposition was dimmed and smothered until his sense of self and his worth as an individual was more dependent on outside perspectives rather than his own. This was evident in the bunker during the Disc Finale when he asked c!Tubbo, "What am I without you?" In his conversation with c!Foolish all of his development, both negative and positive, were displayed so well. His words about c!Wilbur in particular highlight this especially when he says that, in spite of all the bad he's committed in the past, he's still capable of good. As is anyone else. They weren't mutually exclusive to him anymore. Though, when he was questioned about his role on the server he concluded that it was up to interpretation based on the person, which still showcases his inner conflict with himself as an individual as well as the burden that comes with it.

In regards to how c!Wilbur perceives himself within this narrative, it's equally complicated in that he both thrived and spiraled within the confines of these roles. c!Wilbur is a showman, he revels in his theatrics with bouts of melodrama and making grand gestures. The world was a stage and he stepped into the center to perform. c!Wilbur views the server through the lens of storytelling, assigning and shouldering roles as he understands them. This, compounded with his black and white view of the world which was much like c!Tommy’s before his worldview gained a bit more nuance, prevented him from thinking outside the portrayals he envisioned in his mind. In the early days, anyone who was with them was “good” and anyone who was against them was “bad”, a simple division of them versus their opposition. Over time he buckled under the weight of these expectations, both from himself and others, and in the end succumbed to the combined stress of both this and his struggle with his declining mental health. As a result of his death and time in limbo, his own character development was suspended as the server left him behind. When he was revived, he was unchanged and lacking the knowledge of what had happened during his absence, thus leaving his adrift in its midst. He thought that he was center-stage in server's story and once again internalized these thoughts, attributing all its conflicts and changes to his own influence and portraying himself as the simultaneous sole solution and crux of the issue. At a surface level this seems to be due to his self-centered nature, and in some respects it is. However, this is also a means for him to conceal himself behind a facade. By continuing to play the roles he knows and by assuming everyone else falls in line as they always did before, he prevents himself from seeing what has changed and ignores it in favor of using it as a means to excuse his coming departure and all that it entails.

All of this to say, I'm interested in how they'll end their character's arcs and resolve the conflicts and issues they have with each other when they seem to have such fundamentally different ends in mind. c!Tommy wants a place and person he can feel safe and cared about with as an individual and as himself, while c!Wilbur seems to want to move forward and beyond everything completely once he's made his amends, leaving behind a legacy more favorable than his last. With the contrast inherent in c!Tommy's plea to stay warring with c!Wilbur's desire to leave, I am curious to see how these two will reconcile with all that in mind. It's my wish that they reach that conclusion together, despite it all.

#i wrote this in the dead of night and into the early morning so please excuse any mistakes or poor wording #i wanted to reflect and discuss their dynamic and such before c!wilbur's conclusion #i sort of rambled because they have a lot of depth i wanted to discuss so sorry about that #also if i did not do c!wilbur justice i apologize in advance #erm #ya #c!tommy #c!wilbur #c!crimeboys #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #crimeboys #dsmp #dream smp

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crimsoncorpse03 · 1 year

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oh ookay!! can i request a Nana x Chihaya (they're so cute😭) (if ur okay w that!) one shot where they go shopping in a shopping center looking at different clothes and scents and in the end they eat something sweet (like a crépe) to finish off their date😋

Ofcourse I can do that !! This prompt is adorable btw :3

Nana was on her way to Chihaya's house to pick her up for the date. She approached the front door, knocked a few times, and waited for Chihyaya to respond. "one m-minute, p-please!" Chihaya yelled from inside her house. Moments later, the door opened and chihyaya walked out from her home, she had a cute red ribbon in her short black hair, and was wearing a cute light yellow dress, a white purse, frilly socks, and black mary jane style shoes. "Awww your outfit is adorable, chihaya" Nana was wearing a pink tshirt with polka-dots, jean shorts, and converse. "r-really? T-thank you Nana, i love you" "I love you too, we should get going now though hehe" Nana grabbed Chihayas hand and smiled.

((((((Timeskip bc I'm lazy))))))

They both arrived at the mall. "What d-do you w-wanna do first?" Chihaya asked Nana. "Mabye wanna head to the gift shop?" Nana suggested. "Ooo, sure!". They walked to the gift shop and walked in.

"Chihaya! Chihaya! Smell this candle it smells sooooo good" Nana ran over to chihaya with the candle. "*inhale* mmm! Cotton candy flower scented!" Nana giggled. "Right!! Hehe, also look what I found for you!" Nana showed chihaya a teddy bear, it had a blue plaid bow on its head, and it had a blue heart on its chest. "Awwww, Nana! Thank you!!" Chihyaya thanked Nana for the teddy. "Wanna check out now?" Nana inquired. "Mhm! Let's go!" Chihaya agreed, and they both walked to the cashier and they checked out.

They walk to another store, a fashion store, this store sells dresses, shoes, shirts, stuff like that, and the clothes were lolita fashion inspired.

"Ooo, let's go their!!" Nana grabbed chihayas hand and pointed to the store entryway with her other. "Oh- sure! T-thats where I got the dress I'm wearing-!" Chihaya said, as they walked into the clothing store and began looking around. "Eeee!" Nana squealed, as she carefully picked up a grey, flowy, short dress, it had a few white accents aswell, such as the white bow around the waist of the dress, and the white shirt collar on top, and the white sleeve cuffs, and white frill on the bottom. "Chihaya this would look adorable on you!!!! It would clash with your hair so well!!" Nana pointed to the dress as she held it up infront of Chihaya. "Oh, its q-quite expensive, n-nana" chihaya pointed to the price tag, it was 90$. "Ah, no worries, I'll cover for you, I have enough" Nana insisted on paying for the dress. "W-what?! Nana you r-really dont n-need to spend so m-much on me, it is a cute dress though..!" Chihaya said worryingly, she didnt want Nana to spend so much on her, she cared for Nana greatly. "No worries, c'mon let's go check out, are ya ready?" Nana said. "Hm, if you insist on buying the dress, then I wont stop you, also, I wanted to get this bracelet for you!" Chihaya held up a pink, pearl bracelet, it was all pink pearls, except for one white heart bead in the middle. "Aww, thank you, darling" Chihaya smiled sweetly and giggled. "Hehe" they both went to go check out.

"*Sigh* I'm hungryyy" Chiyaha said, tired and hungry, as she pat her stomach. "Mhm, me too, wanna head to the food court, we should get crepes, I heard they have a new blueberry chocolate flavor!" Nana pointed in the direction of the food court. "*gasp* yes! I've been craving crepes for forever!!" They walked towards the crepe station in the food court. "Oh? What would you two young ladys want?" The person at the till asked? She was wearing a navy blue and white maid style outfit, and black curly hair, tied into a ponytail, with a pink bow holding her hair together, and she had dark red shiny lipstick. "Ooo, I think I'll get a strawberry cream crepe, extra whip cream and strawberries please!" Nana ordered her crepe, and gave chihaya the look, signaling to her that it was her turn. "Right *clear throat* I want uhhhhh.... the... b-blueberry chocolate flavor" chihaya ordered hers.

(((((Timeskip to them eating, once again, I'm lazyyyy))))))

They sat down beside each other at a table, and ate their crepes. "Mmmm, yummy!!" Chihaya said, happily. "Mhm, these crepes are delectable" Nana agreed. "Oh! You have a little something on your face.." Nana picked up a napkin, and dabbed it on Chihayas upper lip. "Oh, s-sorry, hehe" Chihaya apologized.

They finished their crepes, and began heading out the mall, and to the train station to head back to Chihayas house, they were going to have a sleepover. They got onto the train after waiting 20ish minutes, and found a spot to sit beside each other. "That was alot of fun, Nana, thank you!" Chihaya thanked Nana. "Anytime, it was alot of fun!"

After a little bit, Chihaya got tired and fell asleep on Nanas shoulder. "Chihay- oh, hehe, shes sleepy" Nana spoke quietly once she realized, and pat her head and gave her a kiss on the forehead, and cuddled up with Chihaya.

The end!

A/n: sorry this took so long, I had writers block and also got caught up with other things, my apologies <3

#corpse party #rpg horror #corpa #corpse party blog #corpse party fanfic #fanfic #chihaya x nana #musashigawa girls middle school

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nalanzu · 1 year

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Weiss Kreuz Episode 17: Kritiker

Opening on a peaceful ocean scene, the quiet tone is not going to last. Botan is stalking Aya as he stands in the cemetery and silently promises to find his sister.

The streets of Tokyo are full of people, laughing and talking, and then one of them spontaneously combusts. The rest of his friend group also spontaneously combusts as a mysterious cloaked figure walks by. At the flowershop, Sakura watches three members of Weiss prepare to open the shop while Aya is nowhere to be found. They feel bad for her, since Aya is being all Aya-ish.

At the cemetery, Botan returns the locker key to Aya and tells him that Sakura has been visiting the shop on the regular. He wants Aya back in Weiss and back at the flowershop. Aya tells him he's not part of Weiss any more, which is not how I remember the conversation going last episode. Botan says they have somewhere to be. Aya tells him to fuck off (not, technically, in so many words), he's not interested in a date. Botan lights a cigarette and Aya, frustrated that he is being shut down at every turn, snaps that there's no smoking in his car.

It's actually kind of cute. I do enjoy watching Botan piss Aya off, I really, really do.

In the assassin basement, there's video (and audio!) of Persia's shadowy figure giving Weiss a mission. None of them give a shit about the spontaneous combustion happening to innocent victims as they're all too busy having heart attacks at seeing a dead man giving them orders again. Birman just stares at them all losing their shit - especially Omi - and Manx finally arrives in her signature red outfit to tell them that it's a computer simulation. That was mean, Kritiker, to show them that without warning. Especially, I repeat, Omi.

Manx explains she thought the little stunt would get their attention. She's not wrong, as Weiss is so distracted by the digital ghost that they just assume they're all going to take the mission. Manx also explains that she's peacing out and they're in Birman's hands - she worked for Persia and since he's gone she is now Done.

In Aya's car, Botan has refused to disembark and is explaining A Potential Mission to Aya. With a marked lack of both patience and enthusiasm, Aya repeats he's not in Weiss, but Botan is determined to get him engaged in a conversation regarding Estset. He tries to use Aya's sister as bait again, but this time Aya's not having it. Botan quite reasonably points out that Aya has zero resources; Aya's method of trying to investigate involves harassing the hospital staff, who have enough work to do without his pestering them.

Botan, on the other hand, has taken to harassing pediatric patients. He's also had an old lady posing as a patient and conducting an inquiry for the last week. The report is on a floppy disk (oh, wow) and they go over the results together in Aya's car. Botan thinks this will get Aya's cooperation.

In the assassin basement, Yohji has also shockingly done some investigating. He's produced a VHS tape (!! oh man, I forgot this was still prime VHS era) with high-quality footage of the burning man. Omi has found an identical individual in each video, arm raised, with some kind of nozzle coming out of their sleeve. Omi switches to an infrared view (HOW?) and they can see the accelerant spray toward the victims. Positing that it must be some kind of extra flammable liquid, the three members of Weiss resign themselves to being a three-man team.

Back to Aya, he's losing patience with Botan's paper airplanes. Botan explains that his daughter loves them as they stalk the employee they felt was most suspicious from the spy's report. Botan continues to give Aya shit, telling him that using Sakura to replace his sister isn't fair to Sakura even if they look remarkably similar. Aya accuses him of trying to irritate him on purpose, and Botan says that he is absolutely trying to piss Aya off because his sister isn't the only victim and Aya needs to stop being so myopic and selfish with his skill set.

The spat is interrupted by the hospital employee in question appearing. Aya demonstrates his utter lack of chill (honstly, Botan, I don't know where you got the idea that Aya is at all calm and collected) by pouncing on the suspect and punching him in the face. The suspect confesses IMMEDIATELY that he left the emergency exit unlocked after he was bribed to do it by some kind of weird woman. Aya wants to know who the woman was and where his sister has got off to, and the suspect snaps that he has no fucking clue and why isn't Aya harassing the police about this.

The suspect takes things one step too far and then says maybe Aya will find his sister's corpse. Botan has to pull Aya off the suspect before Aya strangles him after beating him into the ground. They have learned nothing useful after all, Aya assumes, and the two of them start beating the shit out of each other as the suspect runs off. Botan tells Aya that if he acts out of anger, he's nothing more than a common criminal. You may recognize this as the same tactic that has been used on Yohji and by Yohji on Ken.

An adorable photograph of a little girl falls out of Botan's pocket as they stagger back to the car. They really did come THIS CLOSE to seriously injuring each other, and there's a very chemistry-filled bit of the two of them bickering again. In the car, it comes out that the adorable daughter is missing and Botan's wife was murdered, and Botan thinks that maybe he can find his daughter some day as part of Kritiker.

Why is there a radio in Aya's car that is tuned SPECIFICALLY TO WEISS bullshit? Because there is. There's a screen. There is a map. …it may also be Botan's laptop, come to think of it. In any case, Omi sends the information regarding the case to them, and asks Aya to show up and help.

We cut to the criminal of the week, an extremist group wanting to corrupt the youth, or set them on fire, or something, I don't know, it's very over the top and bullshit. Schwarz is psychically nudging them from the shadows to commit mass murder in service to their vision of a new world. Nagi is openly dubious about the entire process.

Aya has followed Botan's directions to where the extremist group is ready to go set some shit on fire, and they see the group preparing to move. Botan says he's going to stall them until Weiss gets there, and Aya is like, The fuck you are. Botan feels that the two of them are similar, except that Botan's motivation doesn't end with his own blood and he wants to keep everyone safe. (Can I make a motion to kick Aya out of Weiss and instate Botan instead?) He then gets out of the car.

Aya, why the fuck did you GO THERE if you weren't planning on doing anything? You know damn good and well you're going to get out your leather trenchcoat, the one you will inexplicably have with you for no fucking good reason, and go murder some dudes. Stop being such a damn wet blanket about it.

Botan's method of stalling the extremists is slashing their tires, which gets him shot at. It takes Aya an annoyingly long time to decide to get off his ass and help the friend actively in danger in front of him, but he does. He uses a pipe in lieu of a sword, and the confrontation ends with Aya shot in the leg. Botan jumps in front of him to take the next several dozen bullets and also a face full of accelerant. Goddamn, Botan.

The rest of Weiss appears - oh, THAT'S where Aya's trenchcoat was, Yohji had it - and the murdering may now continue. The dramatic nature of Weiss' interference leads to the accelerant getting sprayed on its own tank and it explodes as Weiss flees. I now want to know how many city blocks burned down around them. I also have some questions about which muscles and ligaments, specifically, were damaged in Aya's leg, whether the bullet hit bone, and how many stitches and how much physical therapy he's going to need to walk again. (The answer, of course, is "it was just a minor flesh wound' and "none," respectively, because this show has less accuracy for the medical side of things than a 50s sex ed pamphlet.)

Aya has been shamed into rejoining Weiss by Botan's sacrifice, possibly. The episode ends on Aya back in the cemetery musing that he will continue to believe in Botan (and why was this not a slash pairing with any life???), which implies that he's back to working with Weiss, but we've been fooled by this before. Maybe we'll find out next episode. Maybe they'll do this dance again.

I will tell you what rewatching this show is doing for me; I do like Yohji and Omi about as much as I did last time, and I still definitely have the softest of spots for Ken, but oh my god I want to beat Aya with the flat of his own sword. That man is obstinate and obnoxious, and the narrative keeps treating him as if he is - ok, the narrative is giving him Main Character Syndrome, which is potentially not entirely fair since he is in fact a main character. THE main character, really, since he's Koyasu's baby and Koyasu was the driving force behind the entire show.

Said show is not, however, doing a bang-up job of explaining to us why we should be chasing Aya so hard within the narrative itself and I don't care how many helicopters he shot at with a machine gun.

#meta commentary #episode summary #weiss kreuz

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kosmo-mckogane · 2 years

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SO, COMPLETELY RANDOM HEADCANON INCOMING BUT -

lance and keith on what is totally not a date, both dressed in summer clothes for the warm weather, walking together, talking and laughing, sharing a red and blue slushie and trying not to blush thinking about the indirect kisses they're sharing through sips on the same straw

and lance, casually, impulsively, reaches out to take keith's hand in his (cue the butterflies) only to realise -

he'd have to pry keith's fingers open, because his fists are tightly clenched.

immediately, lance is raising a worried eyebrow, taking keith's hand and lifting his clenched fist to show his friend questioningly,

lance: ??? dude, why so tense? is something wrong?? are you like, super stressed out or something right now?

but keith only seems equally perplexed, his hand going limp in lance's grip as soon as he notices, and he meets lance's gaze with a confused shrug

keith: i'm... not tense? what could i have to be tense about when i'm here with you?

and, subsequently, the subject of conversation is forgotten, lance being too distracted by keith's tendency to just Say Things that are unintentionally, accidentally, romantic af, to refocus his attention on anything else

but later, keith brings it up again, after thinking on it for a while and coming to a realisation

he explains to lance that he gets cold kind of easily, and so with that and his tendency to wear jackets that have the sleeves just a little too long, he must have gotten into the habit of closing his fingers in a fist to hide his hands within the sleeves so he can keep warm

and that right there is the absolute arrow through lance's heart because how the FUCK is this boy so CUTE-

#voltron #klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #I DON'T KNWO ABOUT THIS ONE IM JSUT THINKING. JUST THINKING #SORRY ABOUT THE FORMAT I WAS STRUGGLING ON HOW TO GET THIS ACROSS......... AND IM BUSY RIGHT NOW SO I JUST WROTE THIS REAL QUICK #jai's klance brain

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animatedrapture · 3 years

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"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

#sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #;commish

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