#I can cut it short and make it easier but I can’t escape it right away so I just have to live in it for a while

[voiceshearingyouloud]

In that lovely depression place where if I make a tiny mistake my brain turns it into ‘I’m a complete failure and I should just die because nothing I do will ever be enough’ which is just great

[melzula]

Could you write a Sokka x firebender reader that has the plot of the secret tunnel episode but instead of aang and katara getting stuck together it’s him and reader? :)

Don’t Let the Cave In Get You Down

a/n: got two requests for this sokka storyline and i was very excited to write it! i couldn’t find a way to seamlessly include the fire bending part of the request but i could definitely build on that in another piece. hope you enjoy <3

you met the Gaang when they were passing through a small trading village on the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom

they were low on supplies and in need of a shopping spree, so they stopped at your little food stand in search of fresh fruit and snacks for their travels

you seemed awfully young to have your own business, especially when compared to the other merchants, but you were kind and your prices were affordable

their shopping spree was cut short by the arrival of fire nation soldiers, but you quickly escorted them through the backstreets of the marketplace and helped them evade the soldiers

“That was a close call,” Aang breathed out in relief, “thanks for your help.”

“Those guys are jerks, I couldn’t live with myself if I had just let them capture you.”

“Who are you?” Katara asked in awe.

“My name is y/n, and I’ve been hiding out in this village for about three years now. I escaped from the Fire Nation when I was 12 and never looked back.”

“Wait a minute, Fire Nation?!” Sokka exclaimed before quickly pushing his sister and Aang behind him. Raising his boomerang in a threatening manor, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Is this some kind of trick?! Did you just lure us out here so you could capture Aang and get the reward for yourself?”

“Sokka, you’re being ridiculous!” Katara had scolded angrily, harshly pushing his boomerang away. “She said herself she came here to get away from the Fire Nation, I’m sure she’s just trying to make a better life for herself here and you’re not making that any easier for her by being a jerk!”

“I don’t trust her, Katara!”

You’re a little disheartened by the disdain in his voice when he speaks about you, and despite Katara vouching for you you can see that you’re out of place

“I’m sorry, I’ve made things awkward,” you apologized sheepishly, “I’ll leave you now.”

“Wait!” Aang called, stopping you from going. “If what you said is true then… then I think you should come with us.”

“Tell me you’re joking,” Sokka scoffed in disbelief

“If she’s from the Fire Nation then she must have knowledge about the ins and outs of that place. Maybe she can even help me find a fire bending master. We need her help, Sokka.”

Though he was reluctant and very distrusting of you, Sokka realized Aang was right, so he begrudgingly allowed the airbender to welcome you to their team

You agreed to help as much as you can, and the rest was history

From there on out you’re officially a member of Team Avatar, but that doesn’t mean Sokka becomes any more trusting of you

He always keeps a suspicious eye on you, never letting you help with tasks he deems too important to avoid having you “sabotage” the group

His lack of trust in you hurts, you can’t lie about that, but you continue to do what you can to aid the Avatar and his friends and earn their trust

Of course, this all changes when you get to the cave of two lovers

Unlike Sokka, you found Chong and his group of Nomads to be great fun. They’d braided your hair beautifully with flowers from the lake and performed wonderful songs, so despite your predicament you were in a cheerful mood

Being stuck in the cave had put a strain on your group’s mission to make it to Omashu, but you tried to remain hopeful and help as best as you can

Surprisingly, Sokka even puts you in charge of holding one of the torches

“I’m only giving this to you because I know you’re at least smart enough not to waste resources while we’re in here.”

It’s a start

And it’s a good thing he gave you that torch, because it comes in handy when you both end up getting separated from the rest of the group

“This is just great,” Sokka utters sarcastically after several failed attempts to dig through the rock and get back to the others.

“Come on, Sokka, lighten up. We have a torch and your map, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out,” you try to console. “What did Chong say earlier? ‘Don’t let the cave in get you down, Sokka.’”

He’s not amused by your singing

It’s a bit awkward being stuck with the boy who’s been so adamant that you don’t belong despite your best efforts to prove that you can be trusted

You don’t speak much and try to stay out of his way and follow his lead, but the tunnels keep changing and you keep getting lost and your torch is about to burn out, so things are beginning to seem hopeless

“Maybe we should try changing our strategy,” you offer only for Sokka to immediately dismiss you.

“Right, like I’m going to let you lead us through the cave. You’ll probably make us get lost on purpose.”

“You know, if you stopped being so judgmental for a second you’d probably realize that i want to get out of this cave just as much as you do!” You snap irritably, surprising Sokka. you’ve mostly stayed docile to try and keep the peace whenever Sokka accuses you of being untrustworthy, but at this point you’re finally starting to get fed up

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he says softly, and this time you’re the one who’s surprised. You never thought he’d actually apologize to you, and it’s a nice feeling. “What do you suggest we do?”

“Well,” you start with a sigh, “maybe the story is right. Maybe if we trust in love, we’ll find our way out of here.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

You simply shrug, prompting Sokka to let out a heavy sigh. Your torch is going to run out soon, and his map isn’t doing anyone any favors. It seems you have no choice

“How exactly do we trust in love?”

“I’m not sure… the only love I know is the love I had from my parents, but I haven’t felt it in so long… I’m not sure I ever will again.”

“…What happened to them?”

“My parents were peasants with nothing but love to give each other. They were poor, but they were happy,” you explain with a faint smile. “My father was a fire bender, but he kept his gift hidden in fear he’d be forced to serve in the Fire Nation army. He didn’t want to leave me or my mother, but our home was attacked, and he had no choice but to bend to protect us. Our lives were saved, but he was taken away.”

Sokka hangs on to your every word, eyes glistening with unshed tears and sympathy. Your story is similar to his own, and he knows what it’s like to lose your family to the Fire Nation. He feels less disdain towards you now, more empathetic. He still isn’t 100% sure how to feel about you, but hearing your story makes you easier to understand now

“My mother knew I’d never be safe or happy if I stayed there, so she arranged for me to be smuggled out of the Fire Nation and brought to the trading village you first met me in. I haven’t seen or heard from her since, and I’m not even sure if she or my father are even alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Sokka utters solemnly. “Katara and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation, and we haven’t seen our father since he left to fight in the war. I know how you feel.”

“I don’t want to be Fire Nation, you know. None of this was a choice, and I understand why you don’t trust me but I’m not like them Sokka. Please believe me.”

“I’m sorry for always giving you such a hard time. It’s just… it’s hard to believe people from the Fire Nation can actually be good. But you’ve proven that you can be trusted over and over again, I was just too blind to see it.”

“Can we start over?” He asks with a sheepish smile, carefully sticking his hand out for you to shake. Instead, you push his hand away and throw your arms around him in a tight embrace.

The force of your hug knocks him back a bit, and though he’s unsure at first, he eventually returns your embrace by carefully wrapping his arms around your figure

The fire of your torch slowly begins to die, but neither of you seem to notice or care as you enjoy your moment together

You expect to be engulfed in darkness when the flame goes out, but instead you’re met with the beautiful shimmers of the crystals that line the roofs of the cave

“It’s so beautiful,” you murmur in awe, your eyes sparkling under the light

“Yeah,” your counterpart utters quietly, but he isn’t looking at the crystals

“Was she always this pretty?” Sokka wondered to himself

Together, you’re eventually able to follow the crystals and make your way out of the cave

And when you leave the cave, hands woven tightly together, you leave as two completely new people

You understand each other now, you trust each other

And your relationship will only continue to grow stronger from then on out

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @chronic-daydreamer @niktwazny303

[usedpidemo]

More than you know (Nmixx Haewon)

“Miss Haewon, please see me after class hours later. I would like to talk to you.”

There it is. A rather predictable bookend to another dull lecture. She saw it coming from the moment she walked into the classroom. 

She absolutely loathes hearing it. 

Despite the comically indignant scowl she shoots you on the way out—and the mocking jeers from her friends that elicit embarrassment—by the time the final bell rings, she couldn’t wait to see you later on.

You’re excited, too—but for all the wrong reasons. 

She’s the only thing keeping your passion for teaching alive.

—————

For the record, Haewon is not a bad student, not in the slightest. If anything, she’s par for the course. She’s not gonna be some summa cum laude, but she isn’t a sorry case, either. And that’s been the pattern with your students for years. They only care enough just to get by. Haewon is the most clear-cut example you can refer to.

Based on the rather intriguing stares she shoots at you, you’d be tricked into believing she’s actually interested enough in improving her future performance in class. Peeking through the laptop, catching glimpses of everyone’s grades. Her name is highlighted on the document, and the scores consist primarily of mid-eighties with some low-nineties. Clearly she’s nowhere close to a flunk or a future dropout. 

Better than the high seventies and low eighties that the rest of your class averages.

“Sir, how many times do we need to go over this. I’m doing well for myself,” she remarks, giving you a look that says I told you so. The evidence is right in front of you, written in bold. “C’mon sir. Just let me go early today.”

And that’s when you make your first of many mistakes—feeding her the attention she craves. Where’s this energy when it comes to your lectures, you wonder?

Before you even entertain the thought, the scene has already gone completely sideways. Here’s a student with zero regard for following rules, and you’ve experienced your fair share of troublemakers. She’s sitting on the desk, pale skin in plain view from the off shoulder cropped sweatshirt that barely qualifies for the dress code. You’re looking—and she’s keenly noticing. 

“Maybe another time, sir?” Haewon reads your mind like an open book. She’s purposely dressing improperly for two reasons: to piss off the higher-ups who hate her guts, and to make it easier for you to rip through her clothes. “I’ve got dance practice with the theater girls and I’m running late.”

“Well for one, you can drop the honorifics,” you reply, plainly, in a particularly weak effort to change the conversation. The attention you give her is short-lived; your focus returns to the unanswered emails and grades you need to fill. “Class hours are done for the day.”

It’s evidently not the response she wanted, because her arms are crossed and she’s pouting. You have to admit, she looks cute acting like that, revealing clothes be damned.

“Sir.” Haewon drawls out into a groan, bothered by the monotony of waiting when she has places to be. She won’t go as far as to knock your laptop down, but she’s considering it as a last resort. “You’re being a bitch right now.”

Anyone else in her position would get it—a verbal lashing that would get your teaching license rescinded and take you to court, but Haewon is the epitome of getting away with murder. You have no idea how she does it—how she manages to escape mostly unscathed from punishment. Even now while you drum on the keyboard, because you’re allowing her to call you a bitch without consequence. 

Maybe because you like her more than you would openly admit.

She sighs. It’s a defeatist tone. A few moments later, you close your laptop and she perks up.

“Take a seat. I do want to talk to you about something important,” you tell her, knowing one hundred percent certain she’s not getting off your desk. 

Haewon can’t help herself to a snarky comment. “Damn. Finally.”

By every conceivable account, this should be awkward, if not outright wrong. She’s still an undergrad, you tell yourself, staring into her sharp, alluring eyes. For as rebellious and as unruly as Haewon acts, she still listens to you. Hell, you’re the only professor she bothers to attend classes regularly for. She’d tell you she cares in her own twisted way. Look at how she dresses, for one. Your thoughts consist of mainly her in some cumbersome position, her lips letting out these desperate, heavy gasps. Your hands squeezing her taut breasts; the way her shirt accentuates the curves of her chest drives your imagination wild. You can spend all day planning how you intend to fuck her—

“Sir, you’re staring again.” A snap back to the present, where she’s grinning and leaning close to your face. So pretty. “I get it—I’m hot, but we’re on borrowed time, sir.”

“Right. I honestly forgot what I was gonna tell you,” you mindlessly drawl, searching through your desk for something. Something to temporarily distract you from the inevitability of the end. The rest of your paperwork lies unattended in the faculty room, you remember, but you’re not gonna step foot inside that place—not when the other professors are still around. Time is money. “But it’s definitely not your grades, that’s for certain.”

“What’s it about, then?” Her eyes continue to follow your every move. 

You place a folded sheet of paper between you. She grabs it and reads through the brief content. The response is concerning. 

“You’re leaving?” Haewon turns to you, stunned and gobsmacked. A rare expression coming from someone who’s usually indifferent toward everything and everyone.

Genuinely, you have no idea how to explain yourself. You had this all planned out since the beginning of the year; these two semesters will be your last, you were completely certain. You could have told anyone in the faculty. They’re decent people—as decent as they can be during the few times you actually interact with them—but they were merely coworkers and nothing more. You could have told your wife, who just so happens to be a fellow professor and colleague, but she’s one of the reasons why you’re leaving in the first place. 

Word spreads like wildfire around campus, so you know to be careful, but this is straight recklessness. You call it mutual trust.

“Been thinking about it for a while,” you say, rather quietly, trying your hardest not to look her way. 

“Let me guess,” she says, breaking the pretense of sympathy and concern for her usual caustic tone. “No one cares about your shitty class?”

You’re not remotely bothered by her comment, even if she’s speaking the truth. Though she could have used a nicer word besides shitty. “Part of it, yeah.”

“I seriously don’t understand why there’s gotta be a religious unit for a business degree,” she adds, fascinated by her own question. Even more so than listening to your lectures. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either.” Truthfully, you seriously question why you’re even teaching here to begin with.

You’re employed by one of the top universities in the country; every parent would sacrifice everything just for their children to study here. It pays well by teaching standards, but the bar is in hell. Despite the prestige, the overall experience is no different than your time in public high school. Most of the students who do attend come from rich backgrounds; people who use the place as a dick measuring contest to see who is the richer person. These entitled scholars who are always on their phone—one of their many phones—and cheat to get ahead.

It happens so often on the regular that you eventually stopped caring.

“Hmm,” Haewon thinks to herself, running through every piece of information she has to weaponize against you. She knows you better than anyone, mainly because you share personal life details like they’re the daily newspaper. Not to mention the very reason she comes to the classroom in the afternoons: you.

Then she comes to a rather off the wall conclusion. “It’s Miss Myoui, isn’t it?”

You squint your eyes. Haewon glints up. A small opening. 

After a brief pause, she piles on, smirking. “Did I touch a nerve? Poor you,” she says, shooting you a mocking pout that you mostly ignore. “I guess you haven’t had some good pussy in a while. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be here other than the fact that Miss Myoui isn’t letting you clap her ass. Maybe the rumors are true then—”

Before she continues to spill more information that anyone shouldn’t be allowed to know, you fire back with a sharp glare. She cheekily grins. By ignoring the flashing red light right in front of you, you’re purposefully walking towards your own downfall.  It’s a trap; you know this. You know Haewon more than any other student. All her little tricks, all her crafty schemes. 

God, you can already see how this is gonna end.

“So I’m right?” Haewon tilts her head, leaning slightly forward. Her smug expression, word choice, and mocking tone tests your patience—including your blood levels—and you’re failing by the minute. “Trouble at home?”

Your response? Nothing. Going word for word with her ultimately results in a losing effort; previous conversations with her leave you more tongue tied and in a rut by the end. Haewon is so natural at getting under people’s skin. It’s what she gets off on—wrapping professors and superiors around her finger with her mouth. And more often than not, she’s charismatic and charming enough that it’s entertaining, but no one wants to openly admit it except you.

It’s how she’s able to read you like an open book. Let personal information slip so seamlessly. The numerous discussions regarding her underperformance in class lead into intimate sessions where you and Haewon become more acquainted with each other. A little too comfortable at times, but you can see where and why she acts the way she does. And you had come to the conclusion that you can’t fix her. Many have tried—and failed. She does whatever she wants, and she’ll end up getting away with it.

You slide your laptop aside, ready to dance with the devil, going against everything you swore against. “Mmm—not quite, but you’re halfway there.”

Haewon smiles and her eyes flutter. Not in a patronizing, condescending way, but the sweet kind. Genuine. The soft side she’ll only let you see. “Miss Myoui not letting you clap, sir?”

“She does,” you say, dour. And I already told you class hours are done. Please don’t call me sir.”

“Right. Sir.” Haewon’s playful tone trails off with that loathsome word. She can’t help but smirk; it’s second nature to her. She’ll claim that you fell for that bait, but that was deliberate, you’ll say—even if she refuses to believe you.  

After a brief impasse, “So—sir,” she follows, using her eyebrows and cadence to tease, her hands on the edge of her pants, teasing some underwear, “You need to fuck me again? Now? Is Miss Myoui not letting you have some lately?”

Turning your gaze away and to the desk, “About Mina,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the table, deep in thought, “I’m planning to divorce her soon.”

“Huh?” Her eyes shoot wide, her expression rather surprised at the sudden revelation. You’d think by how she teases you about your wife, she’d have a much more subdued reaction. Considering she knows facets of your rather strange relationship with Mina. “Well, I would tell you’d be fumbling big time, but you should know—”

“She’s cheating on me. I know.” 

Now she’s genuinely shocked, completely caught unaware. She’d assume you to be particularly naive and clueless about campus rumblings, especially since she’d never see you outside of the classroom and in the faculty room. “Well damn. I honestly thought you didn’t know.”

“Can’t say it would be the first time I’ve heard about it,” you say, turning to face her again, cold and gloomy. Pointing your finger at her, “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t catch her getting eaten out in the faculty room.” 

You say that with the utmost sincerity—and sarcasm.

Haewon hesitates, before answering, rather  “I figured.” She understands that your poor eyes have seen some things you shouldn’t be seeing.

Truthfully, you’re amazed she hasn’t brought up the subject a lot earlier. Since the end of the previous academic year, you’ve noticed Mina’s sudden changes in behavior. She’s sending more text messages telling you she’ll arrive home later than usual, the frequent faculty outings she chooses to attend, the cancellation of plans scheduled months in advance—the biggest of which, a dinner date at a particularly expensive five-star restaurant on the other side of town that has a notorious 18 month waitlist that you miraculously booked for your anniversary. And that was five months ago.

People change, but Mina is an entirely different person to you now. You can hardly recognize her.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for what happened,” Haewon says, pretty modest and empathetic in tone, but even during serious moments, she can’t help but remark, “But you were kind of loser material for a woman like her.”

You can only stare back, annoyed. She chuckles, heartily. Seeing your animated, cartoonish expressions only serves to amuse her even further and fuel her addiction of teasing you. 

“Ah, I fucking love you, sir. You’re my favorite professor for this reason.” In an instant, the somber facade falls apart and she’s back to being her usual coy self.

“Among other things?” you question.

“Such as?” Haewon looks confused. It’s a bluff; you’re calling it now. “Such as what, sir?”

Placing a hand on her knee, you’re creating friction so intense that her mouth goes agape and her breaths grow heavier. “Such as the fact that no one eats you out better than I do,” you reply, inflection transitioning from formal to low.

“Oh?” She doesn’t believe what’s happening to you. “Sir,” her cadence dances in such a melodic and sultry way it’s gonna ruin you faster than anything she’s done so far. “You have no evidence to prove—”

Suddenly, Haewon goes tongue tied, unable to finish her sentence. That’s a first. And you didn’t need to lift a finger or use your voice. Your other hand finds solace around her toned waist, exploring her tummy, and it’s thankfully not restricted by any layer of clothing. So much pristine skin to claim as yours, you begin to lose your restraint—and there isn’t much left to begin with.

“I can take you to the faculty room and show you,” you mumble against her belly, the cold breath tickling her flesh that she trembles. Haewon’s senses float off, her vision growing dark as her hands impulsively latch onto your shoulders. In return, you peck her navel, her abs, until you reach her abdomen, a hair’s breadth away from her chest. Between kisses, you continue to feed into her want, “Or I can give you an example right now.”

“Please,” Haewon finds enough clarity to cup your face up and meet her in a lengthy passionate liplock. This is what she wanted from the start. “Indulge me, sir.”

The only thing keeping you two apart is the laptop dangling on the opposite side of the table, almost pushed aside while you were making out. You quickly place it on a random desk before closing the two classroom door curtains.

When you return to Haewon, she’s sitting atop your desk, playfully swinging her legs, smiling modestly. It’s only now that you recognize how pretty she looks. But behind that meek appearance is a demon, a temptress that only sees you as a conduit for pleasure. In her eyes, the only purpose you have to give is sex, and nothing more. 

So push your chair forward when you sit down. Haewon’s legs are already spread wide, but the pants remain on them. She doesn’t like to do it herself. 

“Won’t give me a cheating discount?” you say, looking up at her coy grin, placing your hands around the hem of her trousers.

“Technically—” she trails off, kissing you, “You’re cheating on her with me, sir.” Followed by another. Each one deeper, more intimate than the last. “Don’t act all innocent now, especially when we’ve been doing this for months.”

Then, Haewon consumes you—as in, devours you. Grabs you and makes out with you with a passion you wish she’d present during class hours. You’d be content to remain in this position for the rest of the day, even if the clothes never come off; he’s so passionate and fervent that it’s intoxicating. But it’s all planned. Elaborate. You’re familiar with her more than you ever want to be: how she loves to unbutton your shirt while kissing you, how she mumbles and hums softly against your mouth, how she whispers desires that end up becoming realized after the foreplay. In reality, she’s the one dictating the pace, the one calling all the shots, and you’re merely an instrument she uses to indulge herself.

And she wants it: everywhere, in every position—something you find too much to handle, and she’s already quite the handful. But it’s merely a delay of the inevitable; you’re going to fuck Haewon, you’re gonna pour all your cum inside her, and you can figure out the rest the morning after.

More often than not, your shirt ends up unbuttoned, but not completely undone. One of two layers keeping your impulsive desires in check. As you work Haewon’s pants down her legs, most of your lesser instincts are shown in full display. It takes almost tearing your own fingers off your very hands not to rip through her panties. Meanwhile, she’s lounging on the desk, enjoying the sight of you reverting back to something primal. 

The way you fondle her creamy thighs, never finding their beginning and end, is like beholding a sculpture crafted by the gods. They’re meant to be worshiped, to be handled reverently.

And Haewon guides you through the process, commanding you like she has authority over you. Titles do not matter—they never have. “Keep going,” she says, as you leave delicate kiss marks down her thighs, slowly burying yourself into the inviting presence of her pussy. Peeking through the near-nonexistent layer of fabric, she shifts the lift of her legs, perching on your shoulders as she forces you into her suffocating warmth. 

“Show me,” she gasps, brushing your hair with her hand, and that’s what sets the rest into motion.

Her legs clutch you into a breathless hold. God, she’s killing you slowly, and you don’t mind it one bit. At this point, you have nothing to lose. You might as well treat this as your last supper, your final meal before you have to say goodbye. She can strangle you with her thighs while you drag your tongue up and down her folds, suck on her clit, take in all her nectar—it doesn’t change the fact that Haewon is gonna fucking end you. 

You might as well repay the favor.

And despite throwing caution to the wind, Haewon appears unprepared. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming sensation burning through her nerves, she trembles—and moans. She couldn’t be any less subtle if she tried; hearing her hit notes you never thought she’s capable of hitting only serves to be a minor distraction from her pulsating heat. You’re relentless, slowly picking away at her senses, at her sensitive cunt, knowing that no one can eat her out as well as you do.

“S-sir.” Haewon can only muster up a single word before her mouth fills the room with nothing but air. 

Deep down, you despise the rather obstructive yet comfortable position you’re in. Your tongue brushes against Haewon’s folds, going back and forth to taste of her warmth and her clit. The rest of her frame lays atop the desk, trembling, unable to keep herself steady under your grip. She’s lost you somewhere in between, clinging onto the edges of the table for support. You can only imagine her jaw agape, her expressions twisting in pleasure, wriggling and tossing her head around as she aimlessly tries to find some semblance of control.

Her mouth is the only tool she can use to make some sense of this overwhelming bliss. And even that doesn’t amount to much. ‘Shit,’ ‘so good,’ ‘don’t stop—’ these are only some of the things she groans out as you trap her in a whirlpool of her own ecstasy. It’s still not enough. You want to prove her wrong; you want to remind her what’s important, and the only way you can make sure she truly understands if she fucking cums all over your face.

So while Haewon writhes and makes a damn mess of your desk, you continue to feast on her pretty cunt. She’s making sure every person in the building knows how good your tongue is, and it’s in character with how unabashedly shameless she behaves in front of everyone. Her legs kick sharply against your chair, so you end up where you were supposed to be from the beginning—on your knees. And yet it doesn’t deter you; if anything, you grow more attached to her pussy, savoring every taste and drop, taking piece of every little part of her as yours.

You can’t wait to explore the rest of her body and claim it as yours. On the off chance you’re able to rip her shirt off, your hands roam her tight, lithe figure. You’re met by layers of fabric, frustrated at the inability to grab her breasts in their natural form. She grabs you by the wrists; it’s a miracle she’s able to feel you through the waves crushing her to the desk. You suck on her clit hard. She lets out this guttural moan that sounds violent in nature, like you’re hurting her, when you’re actually doing the exact opposite. 

And it’s how you play off each other for the most part. Your need to get Haewon naked is only matched by her desperation to cum. She doesn’t need to tell you directly how much she wants to. Her hands guide you beneath her shirt, and you press on the underside of her boobs in appreciation. You’re playing a dangerous game; you have no intention of letting go. 

Surprisingly, Haewon holds up well. One look and it might appear that she’s a complete wreck: how her body trembles unceasingly, how she has half her shirt lifted to give you a better view of her chest for when you eventually come up for air, how helpless she is at even the slightest touch. You made her like this. It’s a habit she’s used to by now; she’s learned that a figure like hers is meant to be admired, to be used.

Before you grow comfortable with the habit, the idea that you can eat her out on the desk for hours, Haewon cums.

She keens and shudders through her surprise orgasm. It’s aligned with her playful nature to cum without your knowing, even though the signs were there all along. Your tongue works through the torrent of fluid, then the wave of slick that you drink up. Lap whatever your satiated bud allows. You can see remnants of her climax spill down the desk and to the floor, to her pants. 

Even now, you’re still learning something new about your students. For one, you never knew Haewon squirts.

The wet desk would make for a perfect reference picture for when she questions your legitimacy again—but you have better ways of explaining yourself.

You give Haewon no reprieve; she mewls and whimpers as you lick her folds clean, till you settle into soft, gentle kisses. The situation is all sorts of fucked; she has places to be and friends to meet, but you have her on top of your desk, keening after eating her out and making her cum without a care. It’s gonna take an essay's worth of explaining the glaringly wet patches on her clothes and deep red marks over her skin. 

Truthfully, she’d rather be with you than with her overbearing friends—but you won’t hear it directly from her lips.

Speaking of, you hear a phone ring. Haewon cranes her neck in the direction of her bag. “Sir, I need my phone.” She huffs, gasping for air, each word spaced out between deep breaths. 

Regretfully, it takes every bit of your resolve to release your tongue from her warm cunt. You rummage through her bag and hand the phone over to her. It’s about picking up the pieces now, salvaging whatever you can make of the mess you made, albeit there’s hardly anything to save, even yourself. 

“Don’t.” Haewon uses her loose toes to point at you, shifting herself into a sitting position on the desk. You’re halfway done with the first button on your shirt when she stops you. She’s tapping through her phone, texting some bullshit excuse to her friends. Knowing her, they’re most likely no better than her; they might be playing into your little secret, too. All it takes is one person, one word of mouth, before information spreads around like wildfire.

Like everything else about her, you had mostly left it up to interpretation. Forcing details out of Haewon is a near-impossible task. You were never really a good negotiator. The deal usually ends up like this: her panties for a bonus in her grades, her lips for a signed excuse letter, and if she was really in the mood, her pussy for a cheat sheet. Sometimes, 

She sets her phone aside on the desk, hopping off the table to lay her hands on your exposed chest. Momentarily kissing you, she whispers, “Sir, I told them I would be a little late today. You should know better by now.” 

Her fingers wring around the collar of your button up shirt, eyes ablaze with reinvigorated lust, lips curled  in a pleasant smile. You’re so enamored with her, it drives you crazy. Even when she pushes you onto your chair, even when she rips the already undone shirt off your body, all you can do is pay attention to the stars in her eyes. Her warm, wanton gaze—both charming and alluring in all the right ways. She knows how to use every part of herself to near perfection. 

The rest of your clothes couldn’t come off any faster. Your pants and boxers pool around your ankles, followed shortly by a dark cropped sweatshirt. You’re not given any time to savor the perfection that is Haewon’s naked figure; she’s straddled on your lap, stroking your hard cock with a delicate grip. She smirks, and she has every right to look smug. You’re left breathless, under pressure; if only you can see yourself in the mirror and see how needy you look, and the utter control Haewon has over you.

And you allow her; this is her specialty, this is what she’s built for—to fucking end you.

If your words allow you, you’d command her to get on her knees, suck your cock and take a warm load all over her face; this is the ideal position to make the move. But you can’t. Not when you’re missing the point. 

Haewon is on the edge of your lap, running her hand around your cock, gathering spurts of precum on her nails and finger pads. She’s still winded from before, slow in her movements. The naughty look she gives your body never grows old. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question,” she starts, looking down at the little mess she’s making on your thigh. You’re too overwhelmed to breathe, let alone say a word.

“Be honest with me. I’m being serious for once.” 

And she sounds like she means it. You gulp your throat as you enter the unknown.

Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, her expression deep in thought, something she’s not usually seen doing. And you feel the heat gradually building on your lap, but you’re paralyzed by anxiety for the sensation to register. She runs the other hand through hair to take a good luck at you: your rather sweaty face, somewhere between pleasure and tense. 

“Tell me,” she sighs, running a hand down your shoulder to your elbow, before continuing, “Am I the best student you’ve ever fucked?”

“Yes.” The word comes out involuntarily, as if it were muscle memory. Like your body knows, and it knows itself better than anyone or anything else.

It draws a piqued reaction from Haewon. She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what about Yoona?”

“And what about her?” 

A reply you end up regretting almost immediately. Haewon doesn’t take bullshit for an answer, as evident by the cold, dour stare on her face. If there’s anyone who knows the ins and outs of university, it’s her. 

It doesn’t take long for you to cave in. “She’s so tight,” you admit, sounding like a guilty criminal being interrogated. “But you’re still the best, I swear.”

“And what about Yuna? That exchange student Lily? Miss Minatozaki? You say that to just about anyone.” 

In an instant, she goes from curious and passionate to downright frightening. It’s not supposed to be like this; normally it’s you who has the authority. Haewon can go on and on for hours if she wanted to. She has all the leverage, all the evidence, all the power to cause the end of everything, your life included. But she only wants one thing: the truth.

“They’re nothing compared to you. Promise. You’re still my favorite student.”

To a certain extent, you’re right; Haewon is your favorite, but for all for the wrong reasons. It has nothing to do with teaching her anything other than being a good toy, because deep down, she’s about as irredeemable as your peers make her out to be. Really, it’s about using her body, fucking her, pushing her to the absolute limits—anything to get your mind out of the numbing, monotonous work of being an actual professor. There are many good girls in class, including the names she mentions in passing, but this is a stark reminder that Haewon is yours, and you belong to Haewon.

“Then show me.”

And to drive the point even further, she sinks down on your lap, pressing her weight on your crotch—until her pussy meets your cock and you both disappear into the sea of pleasure again.

Haewon throws her head back, and she’s never looked more vulnerable, not even when you had her laid out on the desk. All this flesh and body to claim, and you have no clue where to begin. But that’s the least of your problems when she begins to glide up and down, rocking your lap with slow, agonizing thrusts. You end up blanking out and caring about the friction in your hips instead. 

The slip of your cock in and out of her pussy when she rides you. Your palms press against her waist while you watch her slowly come undone: the moans, curses, and every sound in between, the rapidly twisting expressions, the hypnotic jiggle of her chest. Soon, you find a steady rhythm to match, and everything becomes effortless. Both of you pushing and pulling against each other’s bodies in an effort to get deeper. You forget you’re a professor and her a student, only two souls in need of sex during some trying times in your lives.

In a way, you’re both meant to be. Fate is a strange entity.

Then Haewon regains some clarity, enough to be kissing you, moaning directly in your ear, demanding your gaze. Even when her hole swallows your cock, she still wants your attention. And even while you have it so deep in her cunt that she’s mewling, struggling for oxygen, she manages to form a coherent sentence.

“Tell me I’m the tightest. Tell me I have the best pussy you ever fucked.” 

God, she’s so fucking tight you can’t fully comprehend it. Perhaps even more, and you’re used to using her. Maybe it’s all that pent-up frustration toward your dead end job, toward Mina, that makes her clench tighter. That’s now how pussy works; you’re just stretching her out really hard, but you have nothing sensible to conclude with. What you can tell, however, is that you needed this—and you needed it badly. 

You’re thankful you closed off the doors and curtains to the classroom, because the last thing anyone needs to see and hear is the sight of Haewon riding you while you both moan about how good the other feels. 

“Love this pussy,” you murmur, breathing against her collarbone, wanting a taste of her taut nipple. She has you in a tight bearhug that binds your hands around her waist. “Fuck—so—fucking—tight—the best—”

And that’s all she needed to hear. Every word—every sound—slips from her lips like it hurts, but she’s in total bliss. She moves her hips against the roll of your cock with deep emphasis, like fitting puzzle pieces together, and it sends you. You’re left even more breathless, more in awe at how fucking well Haewon takes your length. As if it was always meant for her. 

Curses and praise aside, she’s never one to talk during sex. But then she makes the faintest comment about how your cock fits so snug inside her, and you honestly just lose it.

Once in a while, a certain inquiry is brought up. What’s your favorite thing about me, Haewon asks, when it’s supposed to be the opposite. You’re supposed to give out this very question to your students as a way to improve your teaching style and maybe come off as an approachable authority figure. As expected, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. She then would suddenly come to you at the most random of times with this particular question, and you’d be preoccupied with numerous things—home life, school activities, the usual—to find an answer. 

But right there, right as you spear deep into her tight, needy cunt, is where you figure it all out. It’s all in the little details. Your hand going up and down her arched back. The squelching of her pussy against your cock. The furious sound of your flesh slapping against hers. Her loose, shrilly whines while you bury your face between her chest, begging you harder. Her hands tangled with your hair and nape. All that while she’s bouncing on your lap at such a feverish pace; she’s going to break the chair you’re sitting on.

Before you know it, your tongue has traveled all over the most sensitive parts of her body: nipples, neck, and even pits. 

Everything about Haewon is so ridiculous, you can’t believe how much of a challenge she has been for the longest time that you’ve forgotten how easily she folds. Like she’s meant to be used.

But no punishment is suitable enough; no amount of discipline can change her. If anything, it only fuels her goal to thread the needle even further.

“Gonna fucking cum, Haewon,” you hiss against her ear, blurring the line between kissing and biting her collarbone. Using all the strength in your hips, you have her legs spread as wide as they can over the chair, over your thighs. The squirt she releases as she crashes on your lap serves to fan the flames in your cock even brighter. It’s all but inevitable that you’ll pour it all inside her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

If you had any semblance of a spine, you’d never let her hear the end of it. The idea that her pussy isn’t getting its fair share of seed disgusts her. She needs to learn what boundaries are, and how not to cross said lines. At least there’s one lesson you can impart on her before you split, but you’ll save that for another day, because you cum.

You fuck Haewon so hard, she turns into mush that melts in your grasp. Forget the guttural groan you made; the aftermath is alarming. Her pussy drips with a huge load pooling on the chair and trickling down her thighs. You make sure you bury yourself to the hilt and unload inside her. The evidence is undeniable; from the smell to the sight of clothes and cum, there’s no concealing it—if there was even anything to hide, because your salacious activity could easily be heard anywhere in the building. 

And lost in the madness is your train of thought; your body is reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you simply idle. Let your cock stay in Haewon’s warmth as long as possible. Let the setting sun bathe her pretty face in that lovely afterglow. Let her slowly recover and realize that you’ve been right all along about everything.

“Sir, you came inside me a lot,” she says, a little over a whisper, trying to take record of your work. Her eyes stay glued to the puddle of cum dripping down her leg, running a finger to taste you. 

“For my favorite student, why wouldn’t I,” you tell her, caressing your hand up and down her back. Even through the climax, you never stopped. 

The brief, peaceful respite is interrupted by, you guessed it, another phone. This time, it’s not Haewon’s. She moves gingerly bending down, almost tumbling over in an attempt to retrieve your phone from the depths of your pocket. Your only contribution is ensuring she doesn’t bash her head on the floor. 

“Well, well, well,” she comments, looking at your phone with a familiar, sarcastic tone before handing it over to you. “Speak of the devil.”

On the screen are two missed calls and one new text, all from none other than Mina herself. A grim reminder of the reality you live in.

The message is as predictable as it reads. She won’t be home till late in the evening, which might as well be dawn of the next day.

“Miss Myoui is getting it. A hundred percent sure.” 

She delivers it with such conviction that it might as well be fact. You’d be upset about the very thought—anyone would—but a glance at Haewon gives you an idea. One that leaves her curious.

“Sir? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You can already imagine it: the image of railing Haewon everywhere. On the table, against the wall, under the showers. Maybe if you’re lucky enough, Mina will go through that door and be greeted by the sight of her least favorite student getting fucked by her husband from behind.

You show her the text, and just like that, you’re both one and the same. A look of pride crosses her face, as if she’s accomplished an important milestone—and it’s quite a momentous one.

And what better way to celebrate than inside the comfort of your home.

—————

(A/N: Been down bad for Haewon since December. Also, NMIXX is actually good now! Their latest EP has some bangers, highly recommend Run for Roses and Passionfruit. The setting might be a bit more on the bleaker/less wholesome side, but I hope it's not uncomfortable/upsetting. Thank you for reading!)

[pombeom]

no escape from you | beomgyu fic (part 1)

pairings: enemies to ??, roommate! beomgyu x reader

warnings: suggestive content

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for days but i finally wrote it the way i want. might make this a series with smut in the next chapter so keep a lookout 👀 (not proof read)

You were the responsible one between you and your roommate. You always kept things clean, even picking up after his dirty dishes. But being his partner for a paired project was not what you signed up for. Gambling your grade and trying to work with him? Not a chance. 

When are you free? We really need to start our presentation! 

Your frantic spamming of texts went straight to delivered and were probably not going to be read for another 24 hours at least. You would think that being assigned to do a presentation with someone who was quite literally your roommate would be a breeze, but with Beomgyu never being around, the task seemed impossible. You hated the guts of this guy but you were willing to work through it for the sake of your grade. Well that’s only if he comes backs to your shared dorm before the end of the fucking day. Your sleep schedule awaits no one. 

Sat at the kitchen table, you spend the next 3 hours researching for parts of your presentation knowing that it’s probably be easier to start it off without Beomgyu. Scrolling through websites and watching videos on the topic, you write down the notes in your notebook but eventually, without meaning to, your eyes slam shut, falling alseep in your folded arms which rest on the table. 

A lock clicks as the door screeches open. At the early hours of the morning, you are awakened by your drunk roommate. You jolt your eyes open upon hearing the noise of his shoes, his footsteps uneven, indicating his intoxicated state. Anger bubbles in you as you turn sharply to face Beomgyu, giving him an intense glare which he meets with his half open eyes, appearing to be laughing at you. 

“Aww, did you wait up for me, sweetheart,” he taunts, knowing how much you hate the stupid nicknames he gives you on purpose. 

“No. In fact, I fell alseep trying to finish our fucking presentation which is due in fucking 2 days! Do you know how many times I called and texted?” Your tone came out harsh and direct which in some ways was exactly what you were going for but more so, you just wanted to get your point across. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I was out.” 

“I can see that. And stop calling me “sweetheart”. It sounds so fucking stupid. I have a name and that’s what I’d like to be called.”   

He inches closer to you, stumbling a little, grabbing onto your arms for support. His grip is gentle but firm, cautious to hold tight but not to hurt you.  

“Listen sweetheart, if you’re gonna yell at me at least do it when you’re not dressed like this. I can’t help but get a little turned on.” 

“Fuck you!” You turn a shade of crimson as you feel a sense of angry embarrassment. Your slip dress was short and the low cut did nothing but show off your cleavage to Beomgyu who towered over you, getting a clear view of your chest. 

“Well if that’s what you want, sweetheart. I’m down. But maybe tomorrow or something. I’m tired right now.” He smirks, saying goodbye with a two finger salute. 

With that, he makes his way to his own room, leaving you filled with a cloud of confusion and unease. He may have been joking but his words made your stomach flutter, carrying and intense heat throughout your body. 

I really need to go to bed. 

————————————————————————

Getting approximately 4 hours of sleep last night had you waking up on the wrong side of bed. You were cranky beyond help and your mood only depleted when you saw Beomgyu sitting at the kitchen table, munching away at his cereal. 

“Good morning sleepyhead, get a good night of rest?,” his remark was sarcastic, almost shaming you for your evidently tired appearance. 

“Beomgyu please. It’s too early in the morning to be arguing with you.” 

“As you wish.” 

You joined him at the table, grabbing yourself some fruit and toast and you both continued to eat in silence. The air was stiff as you could feel Beomgyu constantly looking up from his bowl to stare into your face whilst you desperately attempted to avoid looking in the same direction to prevent any accidental eye contact. 

Why was he being so intense today?

As you finish your last bite, a wave of relief washes over you as you quickly get up and head over to the sink, washing up your plate before you feel a presence behind you. Beomgyu’s chest came in direct contact with your back sending a flush of pink straight to your cheeks. You tried to move away but his arms caged you. You could hear his breath against your ear, leaving a tingling sensation on your sensitive skin. 

“You know my offer from last night still stands. If you’re up for it,” his whispers send you into a frenzy and you turn around faster than the speed of light almost challenging him as you look up to his face. 

“Listen to me Choi Beomgyu. You have no right to speak to me like that. Nothing of the sort will ever happen. Do. You. Understand?” Your voice was firm and confident, concealing any embarrassment you felt earlier. 

“Shit. That was kinda hot, sweetheart.” He places his hands over yours which had somehow made his way up his chest, grabbing ahold of his white t-shirt. “Now, we have a class to get to. Wouldn’t want to be late now would we?” 

The realisation struck harder than lightning as you jolt you eyes over to the clock, knowing you had a little over 7 minutes to make it to your class. If you ran. 

You push Beomgyu away and grab your bag and slip on your shoes by the door and dash out the door, without care for your roommate who was also in the same class. 

“Hey, wait for me!” His voice yells from behind you, almost catching up. 

“Beomgyu, I really don’t have the time for this right now. I’m gonna be late.” 

“I know a shortcut. Follow me.” He grabs ahold of your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction from the one you’re used to. What started off as speed walking had evolved into a sprint as you’re left huffing and puffing trying to match the strides of his long legs. 

Within minutes you arrive at the door of your lecture theatre, astounded that you made it on time. As you both walked in, still clutching hands, you quickly noticed the limited seats available. Almost every row was full apart from 2 seats on the furthest end of the 7th row on the left. 

“There,” Beomgyu points, upon identifying the seats, ”Guess we’re sitting together today.” He sounded rather pleased, the corners of his mouth lifting to display his smug expression. 

“Brilliant. Sooo excited,” you sneered, ensuring that the sarcasm in your tone was conveyed as you squeezed past the entire row, making your way to the end, as Beomgyu takes a seat to your right. 

“You better be, sweetheart.” 

[nice-deep-breaths]

sometimes you just gotta write weird gentle medkink-praise kink-light hypnosis shit with no characters or any proper plot

it’s under the cut

——

Icy anxiety floods your veins as you lay on the table. The air isn’t much warmer as it seeps through your hospital gown. You try to distract yourself from your pounding heart and the stinging of the IV in your hand by staring at the bright light directly above your head.

Before long, though, your eyes get a reprieve by the arrival of someone at the head of the bed. A masked face looks down at you, their eyes kind and warm as they lock their gaze on you. They seem vaguely familiar, perhaps someone you met earlier before they wheeled you in here, but their name escapes you at the moment.

“Hey there. How are you doing?” they ask, a gloved hand resting on your shoulder. Their voice is equally gentle and sweet, and something about it just hits your brain at the right angle. They seem to genuinely care about your answer. Still, you shrug, trying to keep the feelings of anxiety out of your mouth. You’re quiet at the best of times, but when you’re this terrified, it’s almost always easier to just stay silent.

“That’s okay, I know the feeling.” Their hands are moving just out of sight, fiddling with something, before they return to your field of vision. “Can you look at me for a minute?”

It’s a slightly odd request, but you bring your eyes back up back from where you’d been staring off into the middle distance. You find it easier than you expected, actually, to stare into their gaze. You can’t quite tell what color their irises are, and as you distractedly try to figure it out, they speak again.

“That’s it, honey. Just look at me. There’s nothing else going on that you need to worry about.” Their voice has shifted a little lower in register, drawing your mind to their words like a magnet. “I want you to take a big, deep breath for me. Nice and slow.”

Even though your breath had been coming in short, near-hyperventilating gasps just a moment ago, it’s easy to do as they say. Cold air rushes into your lungs, burning slightly as your body accepts a real breath.

“Just like that. In…and out. Slowly.” Their hand rests on your shoulder again, just for a moment, and their touch seems to soothe your nerves almost instantly. “Each time you exhale, you can feel your muscles relaxing a little more.”

And, sure enough, as you let out your second breath, you feel the tension escape your limbs. The table is still cold and firm as your muscles begin to melt into it, but somehow that doesn’t matter.

“There you go. You’re doing really well,” the voice says. “Deep breath again. In….and out.”

When you breathe, this time, the anxiety seems to seep out of your brain, leaving you feeling numb and just a little bit like you’re floating.

“Perfect. Keep breathing just like that.” They sound more than a little satisfied, and they hold your gaze for another moment before they hold up what you vaguely recognize as EKG leads. “I’m just going to put these on you, okay? Gotta make sure that lovely heart of yours is beating nice and steady.”

You feel a muted pang of anxiety return as, with practiced motions, their hands gently press sticky pads on your chest.

“No, no, no. None of that. Deep breath for me.” Their hand ghosts back up to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. They hold up a plastic clip, wired to something behind your head. “This is gonna go right on your finger.”

And sure enough, you feel it close around your index finger a moment later. You take another deep breath.

“That’s right. Breathe,” they say, and move to your arm, fiddling with the blood pressure cuff that stayed there from earlier. “Just finishing getting you hooked up.”

As if on cue, you can hear beeping counting out your heartbeat from the monitor next to the bed. They’re back at your head a moment later, fiddling with something else, and then their gaze is back on you. It’s as if they can see into your soul, and you’re not sure if it should be comforting or terrifying. You settle for both.

“Alright, sweetheart. Gonna give you a little oxygen, now, okay? I just want you to keep breathing nice and slow.” You flick your eyes to their hand, and sure enough, they’re holding a big rubber mask, connected to something behind you with corrugated tubing. It hovers over your face for a moment, not quite touching it, before it descends and seals over your nose and mouth.

It’s soft against your skin. You take a shaky breath. The air inside is cool and clean, if not a little tainted with rubber. It’s…confusing, and you can hear your heartbeat speeding up in your ears.

They must be able to sense your unease, because their other hand cups your face, their touch gentle even through the latex gloves. They stroke your cheekbone with their thumb while they tilt your head back so that you’re still looking right into their eyes. The anxiety dissipates again.

“That’s it. Nice and easy,” they murmur, running their thumb over your cheek one more time before letting your face go to fiddle with the machine next to them. “I’m going to start giving you some medicine now. Might smell a little different in a second. That’s normal. Just keep breathing and looking at me.”

Your next breath is sweeter. It’s almost like artificial cherries, not unpleasant, though it’s definitely noticeable. It’s not difficult to breathe.

“Good. Nice, deep breaths for me.” You stare into their eyes. You still can’t figure out the color, exactly, but you can feel the calm radiating off of them in a way that reflects back in your own nerves.

After a couple of breaths, you begin to hear an odd buzzing in your head, your thoughts beginning to thicken and cloud over with something foggy. You somehow feel light and heavy at the same time. Numbness creeps over you.

“That’s it. Getting a little sleepy now,” they croon. Their hand makes its way back to your cheek, stroking down the side. “You’re doing so very well for me.”

Another few breaths, and their words are getting harder to hear as the buzzing intensifies. Your vision begins to distort. You struggle to focus on their eyes in the sea of spinning static.

Their hand caresses your cheek again, before it disappears. “Time to go to sleep, sweetheart. I’m going to give you more medicine. Might smell a little different again.”

It’s an understatement, and you twitch a little and cough as a breath of thick, pungent air passes through your airway. You’d struggle harder if you could, but the numbness is settling deep into your mind.

“Shhh, shhhh, easy. I know it stinks. Almost over, I promise.” Their voice is still so gentle, even as you twitch against the mask. Their free hand holds your head steady, keeping you looking into their eyes as they speak. “You’re safe, I’ve got you. Just relax and let the medicine work.”

The next breath is easier, but you can’t tell if it’s just because you’re losing the ability to care again. Your eyelids are rapidly getting heavier and heavier with each second, and you can barely even move now. You take another breath, and you blink heavily, a vague thought to keep your eyes open crossing your mind.

“Shh. Don’t fight it, sweetheart,” their voice is almost a whisper as they lean a little closer to you. You can only just feel their hand stroke down your forehead. Your eyelids follow the motion, eyes rolling backwards when you try to open them again. Their voice sounds distant. “One more big deep breath for me. You’re going under now. I’ll take really good care of you.”

And, sure enough, your eyes finally drift shut on the next breath. You think you hear them murmur another encouragement, and then you’re gone.

[lovely-lady-lumps]

Cramps

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader has endometriosis and Bucky comes home to take care of her.

Warnings: Endometriosis pain

A/N: It's very short and the ending sucks but I wanted to post something. This is based on one of my experiences so I'm sorry if it's not very relatable.

°•○●♡●○•°

  Every day, Bucky wakes up at five in the morning to go on a run with either Sam or Steve. He spends two or three hours training with them in some way, and comes home almost right after you wake up. He’s greeted with soft music and a sweet smile sent in his direction, or the smell of breakfast being made. This routine keeps him sane, lets him know that you’re okay and safe.

  So when he comes home today, and there’s no sound or smell or you, he’s put on edge. He stands in the doorway and waits for something, using all senses to search for you. You aren’t swaying in the kitchen or reading a book on the couch, there’s no humming or a hug to welcome him home. Just a dim living room and silence. That is until he hears a groan from the bedroom. He’s alarmed at the sound and is about to take off when he hears you retching. 

  He closes his eyes and sighs in relief, now understanding what’s happening. He cringes at a cut of cry from you and makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a room temperature water bottle and heading in your direction. 

  You were diagnosed with endometriosis a couple of years ago and even though you’re on birth control, it only does so much. You still have bad days that he wishes he could stop, but there’s only so much he can do. When he gets to your shared room, he’s struck with guilt at what he finds.

  You’re curled up underneath the duvet, eyes squeezed tightly closed and sweat dotting your pale face. The wire to your heating pad trails up and disappears under the blanket. Even though he can’t see it, he knows your hands are digging into your abdomen to try and relieve the pain. 

  Quietly walking over to the bed, he sits on the edge at your feet, “How’re you doin’ honey?” He rests a hand on your leg. It’s a stupid question, but it’s the only thing he can think to ask.

  Your eyes crack open and a weak smile graces your face. “Hurts.”

  The hand on your leg reaches up to sweep some loose strands of hair away from your forehead. “Anything happen?”

  “Had a panic attack. Almost passed out.”

  He hums sympathetically and frowns as you lean into his touch, fresh tears stinging your eyes. “I’m sorry doll.”

  “S’not your fault.” you reply in a watery voice, blinking to try and fight the tears.

  Bucky leans down to kiss your cheek, keeping his lips there for a few seconds longer than necessary. When he pulls away he stays close, “I just wish I could help. How about we stretch out some, huh? I know it hurts to move but I know you’ll feel better once you’re not balled up.”

  He knows from past instances that your cramps get better and you fall asleep much easier with your legs stretched out. You whine in protest, hand emerging from the blankets to grab his hand for comfort.

  “Okay.” you sigh. 

  Bucky smiles encouragingly and stands from his spot, gently pulling your hand to help you sit up, using the other hand to pull the covers away. He watches your face scrunch up as a new wave of pain runs through your abdomen. Your hand squeezes his tightly and he waits patiently for it to pass, thumb rubbing the back of your hand in small comfort. A short pain filled sound escapes and Bucky bites his lip, frustrated at your pain. You sigh once more and let go of him, hands dropping tiredly into your lap. Bucky quickly moves pillows around until there’s three behind you to keep your upper back and head elevated. 

  When you’re finally laid back with your legs straight out in front of you, he tries handing you the heating pad and bottle of water. You take the water and wave away the pad, being too hot at the moment to put it back on. As you take a sip, Bucky tucks the blanket around you tightly, his hands gently stuffing it under your legs. When he’s satisfied with his work he pulls back and waits to take the bottle from your shaky hands. 

  “Have you eaten today?” He questions, taking the water when you hand it to him and setting it on the bedside table. 

  “Haven’t really had the chance to.” You shrug, leaning fully back into the pillows. 

  Bucky reaches into the bedside drawer and grabs your ‘emergency’ pack of chocolate chip cookies. “Here.” He opens them and sets them in your lap.

  You cringe at the thought of eating them and look at them in disgust. 

  You flinch at another, smaller twinge of pain, sucking in through your teeth harshly. “You were gonna get me juice anyway.” You grumble with your eyes squeezed yet again. 

  “I know, I know. But sugar helps.” He rubs his metal hand over leg before standing straight. “If you eat those I’ll give you some apple juice.” He practically sings apple juice.

  Bucky doesn’t have the heart to tease anymore and nods his head. “Yeah, I was. Hold tight okay?” 

  He leaves the room after tapping your knee, quickly moving to the kitchen. The apple juice is at the front of the fridge for this exact reason and he’s quick to pour it into a small plastic yellow cup. He grabs the ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and walks back to your room. When he gets back to you, a thought hits him.

  “I forgot to ask, did you throw up?” He hesitates in handing you the juice. 

  “No. Just gagged.” You say around a bite of cookie, hand held out to take the cup. 

  At the admission he hands it to you with the pain meds and sits down on the small space next to you, pulling his legs up to lay next to yours. You lean into him immediately, head on his arm. He takes note that you’re not shaking anymore and you’re beginning to drift. The cup is soon taken from your loose grip, cookies following to sit on the nightstand. 

  “Mmm.” You hum in what he can only imagine is thanks. 

  “You’re welcome.” Bucky whispers back, reaching an arm around the back of your shoulders, scooting down to be more at your level. “Get some rest, doll.”

  You’re so tired and out of it that you barely feel the kiss on your head before you drift off into a much needed sleep.

[tothemeadow]

Giyuu being edged for what feels like hours, his dom is gentle though! And worships his body and every sound he makes but also makes Giyuu beg to cum and ask politely

I've had this sitting in my inbox/drafts for literally ever, surprise surprise, but I'm trying to make a conscious effort to write for this blog; my motivation has its ups and downs, and I like to write for other fandoms too

'breathy wonders' / Tomioka G. x Reader

warning: NSFW but not explicit, just some good ol' Giyuu loving (and him being a bottom)

words: 493

notes: GN reader, short piece but effective

-

The pain is near excruciating.

He’s there, so close, so desperate; wanting, needing, yet not allowed to take.

It’s unfair.

It’s unjust.

It’s wonderful.

That little band is wrapped so neatly around him, its color pure as snow, its silky texture tortuous against his heated flesh. It’s so hard, both his body and the will to breathe. He begs for mercy. He begs for release.

“I wish you could hear yourself right now,” you murmur into his ear. A tease of a smile brushes the shell of his ear. “My beautiful darling, how melodic you sound…”

You know exactly what you’re doing to him. Giyuu is easy to please, easier to taunt. His ragged gasps say as such, his flushed chest pushing high towards the ceiling.

A kiss greets his sternum. “Breathtaking… You’re such a beauty, you know that? My dear Giyuu, such a good boy for me…”

Your praise makes his head swim. He twitches pathetically, clear droplets running down the side of his length. Your kisses trace down his body, breath fanning over the divots of his abdomen, the shallows of his ribs. Goosebumps cover the entirety of his body. Although he doesn’t say anything outright, the sheer pleasure radiating from him makes the air heady.

A gasp escapes from his pretty lips as you kiss his sensitivity, mouth getting covered in his wetness. So delightfully desperate he is, yet he needs more. He can’t stand it.

Mouth bleeding gold, he bucks into your touch, silently pleading you to finally take mercy on him. You merely laugh, a slight puff against the hard flesh, but it’s more out of amusement than mockery.

“I can watch you like this for hours, my dearest,” you coo, shifting upwards, mouth brushing against his ear once more. “Coming undone… Crying, begging… You’ll give me what I want, right? A little show just for me?”

He swallows thickly. “Please.”

You kiss away a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “Be more specific, Giyuu.”

“Please let me cum,” he whispers in a rush. He’s unbearably red at both ends; tears well up in his eyes, making those lustrous sapphires a sweeping ocean. You can see your reflection clearly.

“Can you beg for me? Hmm?”

“Please!” he cries. “Please, please, I want to so bad, I need-“ He cuts himself off with a pathetic whimper.

You merely coo, hand reaching down and undoing the bow tied around him. The light touches from your fingertips send him careening off the edge; his entire body arches as pleasure overtakes him, tears streaming down his cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut.

There’s a mess left in his wake.

With a tsk, you trace your finger over him, a slight pout appearing on your features. “Oh, Giyuu… I never said you were allowed to cum, did I? Now look what you’ve done… Bad boys deserve to be punished, don’t you agree?”

Giyuu licks his lips, gaze snapping to yours-

“Yes.”

[i-smoke-chapstick]

I was grazing through the jervis x reader tag when I stumbled across your account. I read over your rules and what fandoms(characters) you write for and was wondering if I could either get headcanons or just a story, whichever is easier, if Jervis tetch (Benedict Samuel’s version) spotting fem or gn reader who has dwarfism( and if you’re not sure with writing this, it can just be a really short reader), hanging about with Jim (Either can be Jim’s sibling or close friend up to you) and is instantly just “😍🫣”. This can be during the breakout episode with the j squad. He starts trying to get close to them without getting arrested by Jim, leaving rhyme like letters for them, flowers, etc. Reader takes the letters to Jim who instantly knows who it is cause who else rhymes like that? Reader is then unsure about Jervis’s actions, thinking they aren’t real feelings since he is technically mad and messed up in the head and they are hella shy and insecure for obvious reasons.

I just realized I’m reflecting a little here. Sorry 💀. Basically I have dwarfism and it’s lovely to read others interpretations on people who have it. Not just readers who are short but actually have the disability.

You can either continue from here or cut it to an ending btw. Sfw or NSFW is both fine with me. Thank ya tons! And I’ll understand if ya can’t or just don’t want too!

'WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME TOMORROW,

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X DWARF!READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Jervis is intrigued, obsessed, and very deeply in love.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x dwarf!female reader. Anon who sent this- thank you for entrusting me!! I absolutely love obsessed Jervis teehee. warning for pretty obsessive behavior. (jer has no sense of boundaries)

♫ “Tonight, you're mine completely. / Can I believe the magic of your sighs?” Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? by Amy Winehouse

You've heard the whispers from Jim. He's been freaking the fuck out, for lack of better words. Not just one mad man on the loose- but three. You tell him there's a mad men on the loose every other day...it's Gotham. He just sighs.

Three of the big bads escaped Arkham last night- only one of which who you'd met personally a few months back. Though, you remember it like it was yesterday.

You were in the GCPD with Gordan and Harvey when it happened. You typically avoided the place- the guys there were assholes. You heard all the same comments before, about how you looked. Thank god for Harvey and Jim- especially Harvey, who had chewed a cadet out for laughing.

Jim had holed himself up with a girl named Alice Tetch. He had advised you came to the GCPD that day, horrible idea, you had to admit. "It's for your own protection." He said, but had left you out of the interrogation room by yourself.

You facepalmed as you watched the officers do there work awkwardly. Every now and again you'd catch one staring and you'd grimace.

It came to a head when you heard a strange circus-like music playing. And then your jaw dropped when two wrestlers stood up on the desks, followed by the loud intercom of a voice overhead.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is with great excitement that we welcome you to our show..."

And then a cop fell from the top floor and splat on Harvey's desk. Yep. Great idea Jim.

You felt yourself shaking- watching the scene unfold before you in chaos and horror. You backed up into the door- unable to move or run.

Suddenly- turning to your left, a man came into your vision. You had to look up to see him; tall and dark with a top hat.

He cocked his head as he looked down on you, eyebrows pulled together. You swallowed, and after a beat of silence, a strange smile broke out on his face.

He seemed to be studying you, paused in his movements.

"Hello." He greeted, curtly. It was as though he was making a mental note of you. Before you knew it, you were being pushed to the side- and made his way right into the interrogation room.

You feared for Jim, but he always had it handled. So...you ran towards a back exit and booked it.

Your luck would have it that now, in the present, Jervis Tetch (that's what you eventually learned his name was) was fiending for a new obsession. That just happened to be you.

The Arkham breakout happened just earlier last night, and you've found numerous letters, flowers, even an antique pocket watch, and light blue dress tailored to your size. Every where you went in your day-to-day a gift was tastefully and subtly placed.

"With every beat, my soul's unrest,

In dreams of you, I am obsessed,

In Gotham's night, you're my desire,

My precious door-mouse, in this world of fire."

Okay- well, a bit cheesy. The letters read...interesting poems. You found it strangely flattering.

You hadn't figured who it was until you begrudgingly went back to the GCPD to tell Jim- who gaped at you. At first, he was hellbent that this was Jervis trying to lure you in, kill you as punishment for the whole Alice situation.

You too found the whole situation confusing. But as the days continued to go by with more and more and more unique gifts and oddly heartfelt poems, it was getting a tad too real.

No, Jervis was most definitely infatuated with you.

Now, you're in your apartment. And you hear a gentle knock at the door.

You open a single latch, allowing you to peak out the creak before letting the visitor in.

You have to look up once again to see him, and you're blood runs both cold and hot and the man. He must stand at least two feet taller than you- looking deep into your eyes with the smile of a gentleman.

"May I come in?" He chirps, gleefully. Against your better judgement, you step away from the door, standing on your toes to unlock it.

He makes his way in, hands clasped together. He scans your apartment, noting his gifts strewn about. Even the flowers he bought you in a vase. His smile widens.

"Hello, my dear." He turns to you, happily. "I see you've gotten my gifts."

"Um, yeah." You manage to speak, sucking your teeth and fidgeting. Before you know it, one of your small hands is being engulfed by his own. He kneels down before you, so you're on the same level.

"Well?" He prompts, squeezing your hand gently. "What do you think, my dear door-mouse?"

"They were....really nice, actually." You speak- and flinch out of his hold. His brows furrow when you do this.

The first thing to run through his mind is that you don't reciprocate the feelings of infatuation. That's how Alice was. He wouldn't have any qualms hypnotizing you, that's for sure. But it would be nice to be appreciated.

You can tell by the offended look on his face what he's thinking, and rush to explain.

"No, no! I...I loved them. I guess, I'm just not sure why you're interested in me?" You nod to yourself. Not just referencing your disability- but your lack of any real conversation with the man.

His face lights up again in understanding.

"Ah! Trivial, my dear. On the contrary, I find you maddeningly lovely." He speaks- and forces his hand onto yours again.

All you can do is nod- a million thoughts racing in your head. You're sure he's crazy, but you find it...kind of nice.

He's incredibly handsy, sitting on his knees in front of you, manhandling you a bit. Before you know it, he's pulling you into him, spouting words of affirmation and nuzzling into you like a cat.

Briefly, you think of what Jim might have to say if he finds out about this and tense.

You realize this is just the beginning.

[theproperweirdo]

I don't know if it's only me (maybe it is just me) and only who think that but...

I headcanoned that AFK Journey take place hundreds if not thousands of years after AFK Area to explained the inconsistency (or at least the lack of consistency). I mean, there's in-game lore did state that the "Age of Arcana" took place at least thousands of years ago.

Through TBF, I never really did actually played AFK Area and/or even had heard of it before I got AFK Journey. So maybe the reason is popularity? I mean, I kinda assumed AFK Journey is currently more popular now than AFK Area was from the way I look at it and is probably a way to get more people into AFK Journey by making the lore rather more expansive but yet also more vaguish? IDK TBH

I think both Arena and Journey definitely fit into the same frame of time, despite their lore being very different.

The current year of Journey can be narrowed down by the appearance of characters and significant events. We see Brutus as the current blood claw, Lyca as leader of the Dusk watch, Rowan roaming around, etc. These characters exist in both stories in the same state, so there’s definitely an overlap in their “present day.”

However, we don’t see characters that are directly connected to the collapse of the barred gate. Zaphreal, Lucretia, Khazard, etc, aren’t (currently) present. The first time we see an actual hypogean is Journey is when Berial slips through the rift. Everything else is a corrupted creature or hypofiend. Hypogeans are very scarcely seen. Arena has boat loads of them everywhere so it’s a very heavy contrast lmao

I suspect that they put Journey in the short bit of time before the barred gate broke, and that somewhere in the climax of the story they’ll pop it open for content 🤷🤷 maybe Merlin has to go and try and reseal it or something

Shitty Venn diagram of the separate and overlapping story components (I made this is five minutes don’t have my head on a pike)

They definitely cut down on some stuff to have the game more… easily digestible? The actual storyline of Journey is very simple— you’re good guy hero facing bad organization and monsters. You also save a bunch of people while u travel to find your glorious purpose. Also you have amnesia. Arena’s story is different since you’re playing as an outsider looking in on a world. Obviously very different storytelling POVs. You’re probably right about them wanting to reel more people in, it would be easier to gather a fan base with a more generalized narrative.

I don’t know really anything about popularity, but I feel like it’s hard to compare since Arena has been out for five and some years whereas Journey is like half a year old? Idk 💀 In terms of mainstream popularity in the present day, more people probably talk about Journey. If you play arena you’re either a newbie who plays for a month or you’ve been sucked in for a good two or more years and can’t escape 😢 extremely different player bases

Obviously since we aren’t Lilith games employees we don’t know what they were aiming for in terms of marketing, but they’re probably trying to follow the recent trend of open world 3D model games. If we’re talking about story changes, it’s cause their workers and writers are being bent over and fucked in the ass 🤦🤦 RIP

[dontmindifidontt]

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Nanami Kento x Reader JJK fanfic | Chapter 14: At Last (FINAL CHAPTER)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 5347 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery.   Chapter Summary: After seemingly walking into a trap, our baker must find a way to get herself free. No smut warnings this chapter.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. | Previous Chapter  |

This isn’t good. This isn’t fucking good. I look around frantically, searching for the source of the noise but there’s nothing to be seen. Even with the help of my glasses I quickly threw on, I still can’t see whatever is steadily closing in on me.

How could I have led myself into a trap like this? I ended up doing the exact thing I was afraid of… I ended things with Nanami because I didn’t want this exact scenario to happen.

Then again, if he’s not here to witness what happens next, I guess I succeeded in at least part of my goal in separating myself from him. He may never know what happened to me but hopefully he’ll assume I just ghosted him and lived the rest of my life in safety - not that I met whatever terrible end I’m about to meet.

He can’t ever know I ended up like this… the thought of him being devastated brings me to the brink of sobs. I clutch my hand to my mouth instinctively, holding back tears or vomit or screams - at this point I could hardly tell.

But I have to focus if I want even the slimmest chance of walking out of here. Ever since I spent a week of training at the cabin with Nanami I’ve been keeping a small slicing knife from work sheathed on my leg. I’d normally use it for cutting precise layers of cake to carefully stack atop each other. Now, I can only hope it’ll be enough to thwart whatever intelligent cursed spirit has been stalking me in this alley. I know I need to exorcise it to make this cat-and-mouse game end once and for all, but I don’t know if I’m even capable of that right now. And without Nanami in the picture to help me learn… I try not to think about what that means for my likely short future.

Something crashes against a dumpster across the alley again, snapping me out of my daze. Three rodents quickly scurry out from underneath the heap of trash as if they’ve been spooked.

I need to remember every single piece of training Nanami taught me. We never made it to close combat, but hopefully I can prevent the curse from getting close enough to try.

Pulling the short but sharp slicing knife from its sheath with shaky hands, I raise it up chest-height in a protective stance. Elbow bent straight ahead, forearm parallel with my chest, palm facing down… I grip the hilt of it as hard as I can while my eyes desperately scan the street for a clear view of the circling cursed spirit.

I slowly turn in a tight circle, subconsciously stepping off the sidewalk and into the empty road. I’d rather be in an open road than stand too close to the nearby building and risk having my back to the wall without means to escape. I already feel vulnerable enough as it is, I don’t need to make myself an easier target.

A snuffling, gasping sound snaps my attention to another narrow alley down the desolate road. I’m officially not alone.

My eyes widen as I attempt to make out the figure peeking out from around the side of the building. The first thing I notice are the claw-tipped dark green hands covered in spores and scratch marks. The skin covering this being is scaly yet blemished with golf ball-sized lumps as if it’s filled with air bubbles vying to break the surface.

Just the upper half of its head is peeking out, but I can see all I need to see in order to know I should be very, very afraid. There are no recognizable features in any place you would expect them to be on a person’s head. Three rounded eyes dot its face in a triangle-shaped pattern: two spread apart on each side and one at the top. Each eye’s pupil is spinning in a different direction, yet I can somehow feel all of its attention on me. Even from this front-facing view I can see its neck protruding from its head. Instead of being located at the base, it sprouts upward from the back of its head. It seems to curve downward towards the rest of its body, as if the head and body are connected by a bent straw. There is no mouth or nose to be seen, but I don’t doubt there are terrifying rows of sharp teeth lining its gums.

A flicker of light catches my eye, and I quickly shoot my glance back to the space in front of me. I began shaking so much that the thin streak of sunlight peeking through the clouds reflected off my knife like a mirror. I give a half sigh of relief to know I caused the flicker myself and swiftly bring my eyes back to the alley to focus on the threat at hand.

It’s empty. There’s no hands, no glimpse of a head. No curse to be seen at the edge of the alley anymore.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. How could I take my eyes off it for even a second?! Now I nee-

Pure panic takes over every cell of my body. In the brief second since I looked away, the curse quickly advanced in my direction and is now blocking my entire field of view. It’s so close I can smell the rancid odor leaking from its skin - a mixture of garbage and spoiled milk.

If I didn’t already know I was being hunted by a curse I would have never believed that this horrifying-looking creature is the same type of being as the flyhead. There are absolutely no similarities between the borderline innocent-looking flyheads and what appears before me.

I was right about the teeth: they’re razor-sharp and there’s rows upon rows of them. But I was wrong to expect they’d be found on its head. Instead, there’s a grinning, teeth-filled mouth on each long limb: towards the end of each forearm and ankle. They’re positioned as if made for kicking or striking its victim while simultaneously biting down on its flesh. It’s a design of nightmares.

Before I can gulp down my sheer terror, a shrill, cackling laugh begins to bubble up out of all four mouths of the cursed spirit. It’s ear-piercing and nearly causes me to drop my knife while reaching for my ears. I’m gripping the sides of my head when the laugh turns into a scream that unexpectedly launches me backward, as if blown by an invisible wind.

I hit the ground in an instant, landing with a backwards somersault. I thankfully avoid an injury to my head due to my hands still being tightly gripped to the sides of it. I shuffle backwards hastily, scuttling my palms and feet on the hard pavement.

After collecting my bearings, I reposition the knife in my hand into a throwing position - there’s no way this will do me any good up close. If I want to have any chance of making it out of here, it seems I’ll need to rely on my good aim to hit at least one eye on the terrifying creature and run.

Steadying my breathing, I rise up on my feet and lift my arm above my head, ready to launch the knife that’s already become slick with sweat in my palm.

The curse hasn’t even moved from the same spot in the road, although that terrifying and haunting cackle has begun to bubble up out of its mouths again.

I train my eyes to the mouth on its left ankle… it seems like the target I’m most likely to hit.

With a deep inhale, I remember the hours of practice I spent aiming my throwing knives at the cabin with Nanami. How he made me hit the same target on a far away tree trunk over and over again. Until I learned how to still hit my target even with distractions. With the way he distracted me.How he took his time slowly lifting his hand up my thigh until he cupped me aching between my legs.

The maniacal cackle of the curse snaps me out of my memory of Nanami. If this throw doesn’t work, if it doesn’t give me a chance to run and get away safely, I’m at least glad I got to spend just a second in my mind with a fond memory of Nanami. I don’t want to die without at least the briefest moment of peace that only he can bring me.

Flexing the muscles of my arm, I grip the knife even tighter and throw. It sails through the air faster than any practice throw I’ve done, and looks to be exactly on track to hit the ankle-mouth I aimed for. I ready myself to run once I see it hit its mark.

Still soaring, the knife is just inches away from the now eerily-silent curse when it suddenly darts away in a flash to dodge the weapon. Without warning the curse once again materializes beside me in an instant, this time on my left. Again, I see each of its mouths open wide and scream, blasting me off my feet in the process. I fly through the air for barely a second before hitting the wall of the building I previously stepped away from. The force knocks the air out of me and snaps my head to the side hard enough to see stars. I’m unable to break my fall to the ground and cry out at the pain of my legs folding as I hit the pavement.

Every fiber of my being feels unbearable with pain and shock, but I can’t let myself stay down and vulnerable to attack. I attempt to scramble back up to my feet as fast as possible so I can reorient myself and decide what to do next. Panting, my eyes dart around in search for the curse but it’s nowhere to be found.

If I was panicking before I’m absolutely frozen in fear now. The curse is nowhere to be seen and I’m now weapon-less. Shaking, my eyes continue to scan every inch of the road in front of me desperate to s-

Without warning I hear the third shriek and feel the blasting wind of the curse knocking me completely off my feet - this time landing further down the road. There’s no doubt in my mind I must have broken or at least dislocated one of my arms now. The pain is past the point of ignoring and tears are silently filling and falling out the corners of my eyes. I instinctively wipe one away and realize why the curse took me completely off guard - my glasses are gone.

Disoriented and confused, I look back to where I was first thrown against the hard exterior of the building. There on the ground, shattered and bent, are the one thing that allowed me to see curses and have a fighting chance out of getting here alive: my glasses.

A sob tears out of me at the sight of them completely destroyed and unusable. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms over the top of my head in a panicked fetal position. I’m done for. Absolutely done for. And I didn’t even stand a chance. Or save Nanami any of the heartbreak - I’ll still getting killed by this goddamn curse even after all the terrible things I said to break up with him. I should have known this plan would have never worked.

I hear the guttural cackling of the curse return and realize this must be the end for me. If this is how I go, I can’t do it cowering on the ground. Using my one good arm, I press my palm to the pavement and slowly begin to rise to my feet so I can at least prove to myself I’m still strong enough to die standing.

Each vertebrae in my back feels battered and bruised as I extend it to stand. Before I reach my full height, I’m nearly knocked back down for another reason. The curse hasn’t attacked, but it must have been aiming to, because before I can even hear a shriek I see the familiar, strong body I’ve come to love so goddamn much dive in front of me. Nanami found me. He came back to me. Even after all I said.

He shouts at me to run while winding up his arm to deal a strong blow to the now invisible curse with his weapon. I can hear the impact despite not having my glasses on to see the actual strike to the curse. I’m thankful to hear a horrific yelp from the curse after Nanami’s weapon makes contact, but Nanami doesn’t seem to be relieved or at ease from the looks of his body language. He’s immediately readying his weapon again, running to the side at an impossibly fast pace to strike his weapon again. This time, it looks to have been a defensive hit, as though the curse was already recovered from whatever damage his first hit did.

“I said RUN!” Nanami barks breathlessly without looking in my direction. I realize I’ve remained wide-eyed where I once stood, though now I’m back to a seated position since getting knocked over by Nanami’s defensive dive in front of me. The short but strong burst of energy that coursed through me to stand up earlier is now gone, and I’m afraid I don’t even have it in me to run at this point.

Just as I debate crawling in a desperate attempt to find cover, I see Nanami get thrown aside as if the curse just picked him up by the shoulder and tossed him like a doll. He’s able to land on his feet in crouch much more deftly than I did, but it’s still obvious he’s hurt.

I must have gasped aloud in the process because Nanami once again shouts at me to get out of here, this time barely getting the words out without a sputtering cough. I can tell he’s hurt - probably worse than he’s even letting show.

I’m in no condition to help him though, am I? No weapon, no strength, not to mention zero ability to even see the enemy we’re up against. All I have is myself. But I can’t fail him again today.

If this curse truly has the upper hand and I’m not able to escape my fate afterall, I have to at least use the last tool I have left: myself. I can distract this curse with myself. This way, I’m not failing Nanami by lying to him about wanting to break up or worse, by dying in a way he thinks is his fault. I can choose to get up and walk back towards Nanami and this invisible curse blindly, meeting my fate and showing Nanami its not his fault. Then, he’ll have the chance to use this distraction as opportunity to get away and save himself.

It doesn’t take me long to decide on what I have to do. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not really distraught at the fact I’m willing to sacrifice myself to a horrendous monster. Not the possible pain, or suffering. Rather, the only thing that’s upsetting me is knowing that this means my time with Nanami is really over for good.

I take a deep breath to muster the courage to stand just as Nanami is knocked to the ground again. He’s been striking the curse time and time again, and yet it isn’t preventing him from being overpowered.

He still hasn’t gotten up yet… I know it’s time for me to do what I have to do. And hopefully spare his life in the process. I hope he can forgive me.

“Here, over here!” I shout the words as loud as I can despite the cramped feeling in my lungs. I’m pushing myself off the ground and onto my feet as quickly as I can, though it feels like it takes me an entirety to get upright. As I stand at my full height, I raise my one good arm and flail it aimlessly - unsure where the curse is located but drawing attention to myself nonetheless.

I have to take one last look at Nanami, to tell him what he needs to do.

Swallowing air and fighting back tears, I turn my head to his direction and force out the words in one quick sentence: “I didn’t mean what I said.. You have the chance to get away now.. I’m sorry-”

Just as Nanami’s eyes widen and jaw drops in understanding, I feel a giant, scaly body tackle mine to the ground and everything goes black.

…….......................................………

The afterworld, or heaven, or wherever I am right now feels nice. Calm. It feels… serene. I’m not scared or nursing any broken bones back to health. I’m not even sad about leaving Nanami - because he’s here.

By “here” I mean the nondescript Parisian bakery Nanami was referring to when describing our imagined proposal story. I’m living out that day, here in the bakery and the park with him. The bread we pick out tastes more delicious than anything I’ve ever had, and the champagne he pops for us once I say yes and slip on the ring tastes like stars in a glass. All of my senses are heightened here in the most pleasurable way. And everything looks more beautiful - including Nanami. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him, and so carefree. I’ve never seen him this at ease. Maybe it’s be-

The sense that my body is rolling uncontrollably is confusing at first but quickly shocks me with alertness. My ears are ringing, my clothes are tattered, and my lungs are burning from a lack of oxygen. I’m alive…? At least barely it seems.

Getting tackled by the cursed spirit must have knocked me out. I’ve never experienced any type of dream state like that before. I can’t waste time dwelling on it though since I’m now back in the fray. I expect to hear scuffling feet and heavy breathing and clashing of weapons, but there’s none of that. It’s totally silent.

I’m finally able to fully open my eyes and reorient myself to my surroundings. I’m still here on the same road since I was tackled, but that doesn’t help the confusion.

I’m on high alert in case the curse pounces on me once again, but I don’t hear its cackling laugh or pointed claws or anything. I don’t hear anything. Even Nanami…

A new level of fear sinks in as I spot Nanami. My voice is so hoarse that the shocked cry I involuntarily make doesn’t quite come out. I lurch forward on all four aching limbs, desperately trying to propel myself closer and get to the collapsed, non-moving body across the narrow roadway.

My brain and body barely feel connected or functional - all I can think and see and do and feel is try to get to him. In what feels like days I’m able to drag myself over to him and throw myself on top of him. He’s on his side with his back to me, so I have to drape myself over his shoulder to see his face and check to see if he’s breathing or conscious.

His eyes are open, his chest is repeatedly rising with shaky breaths, and he’s… alive. I garble out another cry at the relief and shock. He’s alive and yet he’s still here unmoving and probably gravely injured.

I lick my lips to attempt to speak, but before I can utter a word he slowly drags his eyes to the side and turns his head towards me. He looks almost catatonic without expression, but the moment he turns enough to see my face he’s overcome with a look of sheer relief and sadness.

“I thought… I thought…” the words are barely coming out, but I know exactly what Nanami means when he says it.

“I’m alright, I’m here,” I respond - trying to convince both him and myself I’m still alive. There’s so many things I need to tell him… but first, I need to know if we’re still in danger. I have no idea if the curse is still around or if he managed to exorcise it. Clearly he didn’t run away as I had planned. “Is… did you exorcise it?” I’m practically shaking with nerves at the prospect of having to continue facing this thing.

Nanami still can’t quite form any words, but I know things are going to be okay when I see him nod slowly. I practically collapse against him, wrapping him in my arms once again and sobbing into his chest to hear that we’re not being hunted anymore. I can tell he’s crying too because I feel the shake of his chest.

We continue to hold each other, exhausted, in this heap for a moment until all the words I need to say to him come flooding back.

“I’m sorry,” I start to spurt out while slowly raising myself to a seated position. “I’m sorry for everything. I thought I could fix things and save you by telling you we were done and then when that failed I thought I could save you by buying you time and sacrificing myself in the process and that didn’t-” I’m cut off when Nanami manages to pull himself up as well and promptly leans in to kiss me mid sentence. He envelops my mouth and slowly works his tongue past my lips and it feels like he’s kissing me like its the last time. It really almost was.

He only pulls back to say, “I didn’t mean what I said either. About not being able to picture us together for the long term. I can picture it, clear as day… and that’s why I was so scared. I said I couldn’t promise a lifelong commitment because I was scared a situation like this would interrupt that commitment. And it almost did-”

“Stop,” I cut him off, tears still brimming in my eyes as I hold his face. “It didn’t. I tried to do the same thing and predict the future but it didn’t work. Of course my plan didn’t work. I thought that whatever curse was threatening you with taunts to hurt me would see us break up and wouldn’t be able to use me as a pawn anymore. But of course that wouldn’t work. Abruptly breaking up doesn’t change the fact that you would still be devastated if I got hurt… The curse would still get its revenge against you, breakup or not…” How could I have been so clueless? I start to beat myself up but realize I did the same thing as Nanami - the fear prevented me from thinking clearly. Also, part of me starts to feel an overwhelming surge of heartbreaking love for Nanami. He still cares so deeply for me no matter what, even after all I said. I thought I could release him from the trap of my fate, but now I realize those fears weren’t my fate - no one else decides my fate but me. I’m strong enough, (I’ve been taught well,) and risks don’t scare me anymore.

“We can’t predict the future,” I continue on, “and I won’t let you sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of my perceived safety. And I won’t let myself do it either. We owe that to each other and ourselves. I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t want to be with you because your life and work is so risky - I only said that because I foolishly thought I’d be saving you the heartbreak.” If the situation wasn’t so dire I might even laugh at the irony of how we’ve nearly killed one another in our clueless attempts to save each other.

‘If you can’t promise me a future that has you safe in it, then I never want to see you again.’ My past words haunts me. How I thought hearing this would be easier on him than taking our chances getting hurt in the future is now a mystery to me. Now, I don’t care about a promised future, I just want to start my future with him at my side.

“We can’t control what dangerous, shitty situations are going to come our way whether we’re together or not - so why deny ourselves the chance to at least be happy in the meantime?”

Nanami looks at me with such genuine, emotional longing that I nearly start crying all over again. I can tell he has a million words to get out as well but is still so shocked by my near-death that it’s difficult to speak. “We… we can move away from here. Leave the city where cursed energy is higher and go further out of town.”

“Yes!” I completely agree without question. I can tell he never wants to experience this scenario again, and I don’t blame him. And, I want him to be safe. I want to see him be carefree and at ease the way I did in my dream. “What about the cabin? We can go there as soon as we get healed and figure it out from there. I’ll go anywhere with you.”

His eyes seem to spark back to life a bit at the suggestion. He starts to smile and nods in agreement before kissing me again. It feels impossible to pull myself away again, but making sure he’s physically okay is more important right now. I start to scan over his body, looking for broken bones or bloodstains. Apart from the same road rash I’m sporting, he doesn’t seem to be in as bad of shape as I thought. Still, we both will need help to heal. “We need to get to a hospital-”

He raises his hand to stop me and explain that he has a colleague who can help us. He’s able to reach for his phone and call them right away.

We continue to sit side by side, waiting for one of his jujutsu peers to pick us up so we can be healed. I’m not sure what that entails but I trust him.

Just as a black sedan begins to pull up to the curb, Nanami turns to me again before standing. “Seeing you hurt like that… and thinking you were gone, I…” he chokes up, unable to finish the sentence. He gulps and inhales before starting again, “I need to know I’m doing all I can to protect you and prevent that from happening ever again.” Another inhale. “I’ve always hated jujutsu sorcery, and now more so than ever. It can’t… it won’t be a part of my life again.”

I stare, confused, at his face. He looks determined and decided.

“I have the ability to see and sense curses still, that’s not going to change… but I’m choosing to distance myself from jujutsu.” We’re both standing now as the car pulls up, and he looks deep into my eyes as he reaches to open the door for me and says, “What’s important to me now is making a commitment to truly enjoy a restful life… with you.”

My response comes as easily as loving him does, “I like the sound of that.”

………….......................................................……….

Two Months Later

Packing up all our belongings from the cabin is an odd feeling. Not odd in a bad way, but odd in a too good way. Nanami and I have spent the time to heal our wounds physically and emotionally. Seeing me collapse took a toll on Nanami that was hard to shake. Thankfully, stepping away from the city and its overflow of cursed energy was the right move.

Now, we can spend the warm afternoons drinking tea on the small table in the backyard, and spend the chilly evenings snuggling in bed with the windows cracked. This is the first time we’ve really felt peaceful together.

The only reason we’re packing to leave is because Nanami bought us a place of our own! It’s even further out of town and on a bigger piece of land, so we really get the chance to tuck ourselves away in our own little world. I cannot wait to finish packing the car and making the drive over there this afternoon. I plan to surprise Nanami by growing a garden in the yard with all sorts of different herbs and veggies. That way I can experiment with cooking new types of savory breads and pastries for him to try.

With the last of my small bags in hand (Nanami wouldn’t let me carry out any of the heavier ones,) I pull the front door of the cabin shut behind me and walk out to the car. Nanami is there loading up the open trunk with the larger boxes, and smiles as soon as he catches sight of me.

I give him a quick kiss as soon as I step up close to him, and he puts his hand on my back before quickly moving it under the bag’s strap on my shoulder. He swiftly lifts the bag off my shoulder and places it gently in the trunk. I can’t help but smile at the simple kindness he shows me every day without even thinking twice about it.

“We’re just about ready to go,” he lets me know while shifting some of the boxes in the trunk to make room for the remainders. “I just need to move one more thing back here - can you hand me that container to your right?”

I look to the stack of boxes he’s referring to and grab the small open container from the top of the stack. There’s an envelope peeking out addressed to me. Holding it between my fingers, I turn back to Nanami and ask what it’s for.

“Open and take a look,” he replies with a sly yet innocent smile.

Curious, I pull open the envelope and reach inside for its contents: two small pieces of paper. I hold them in my hand and keep reading them over and over again, unable to believe my eyes.

Inside the envelope are two tickets for a flight to Paris.

....

After much deliberation I decided on making this a happily ever after afterall <3333 our fave worker bees deserve it fr :’( THNK U all for coming along this journey with me - it’s the first fic i’ve ever published and there were times i never thought i’d be able to finish it. writers block gets so real. but its my love for these characters and stories that motivates me to stay creative and i love them for that:)

Previous Chapter 

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[val-aquenta]

Cherik Week 2023 - Dystopia

Is this almost late? Yes. But also I am busy so you shall have to excuse me lol.

Here is link on ao3 for all you folks who want to read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47677591/chapters/120178237

Charles doesn’t know how long he’s been left behind. He’s not surprised that they would do so. He’s been growing more and more sick over the past week with no signs of improvement. But then he’d passed the threshold and become a liability. An extra mouth to feed with little labour to give. It’s not a surprise that Cain and Kurt decided to leave him behind. It’s also not a surprise they didn’t kill him to make him suffer less.

Still, it would have made things a lot easier and a lot less painful. He rolls over, head aching and stomach pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He feels both warm and chilled at the same time. A weak groan escapes him and he digs his fists into the soil, squeezing as the pain mounts and crests before it lessens ever so slightly. 

The time between waves is getting shorter. He’s going to die soon. He curls further in on himself, preserving what heat he can and pretending not to be worried about his inevitable fate. His eyes shut of their own accord. 

There is a rustle then, but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes. If it was one of the mutated beasts that regularly roamed the land he would at least have a quick death, if not painless. He heaved a breath, once more trying to at least face his death with a little dignity, but he can’t. Something sharp presses into his chin, but still he can’t open his eyes. Exhaustion tugs at his bones despite the warning to run or hide, and…and then nothing.

::::

He blinked, quite suddenly, into consciousness. He still felt exhausted, but perhaps marginally less so. The light of the open sky, a dull grey like all days, blinds him for a few moments. With the return of consciousness comes the return of the dull aching pain. He lets out a low moan as his stomach revolts, threatening to push up bile and nothing more. After all, there’s nothing for it to heave up. Still, he retches and feels marginally more miserable than before. Closing his eyes in exhaustion he finally stares up at the unbroken patch of sky. 

Wait.

“What?” There’s another man. His age maybe, or slightly older. His hair is shorn shorter than Charles’ and he has a handkerchief wrapped around his neck, no doubt meant to lift up to cover his mouth when needed. “If you’re going to kill me, make it quick.” He says, pausing to heave breaths between the words. Except he doesn’t speak half the words, and thinks the rest right into the other man’s head. 

The man, Erik, he quickly learns, stiffens instinctively and thrusts his knife out trapping Charles’ chin with the blade once more. “How…” Slowly, he loosens and the blade falls away. “You’re one of us.” It isn’t a question. “And you’re dying.” Again, another not-question. 

Still, Charles nods. “So, like I said: if you’re going to kill me, make it quick. Please.” He turns his gaze up towards the bleak sky, expecting either a quick strike or something of a similar vein to cut his life short. 

Instead, the man hmphs, “I wasn’t the one who ever said anything about killing other people. That was all you.” The knife clatters completely to the floor. “I, for one, wouldn’t want to see those beautiful eyes of yours go to waste.” Charles gawks. He reaches back into a bag hefted to the side. “Here, you definitely look like you need this.” And then he hoists up the medical syringe as though it isn’t one of the most sought-after remnants from Before. As though even those who dwell in walled cities with plenty of rad-masks and weapons don’t fight each other like animals for it. 

Charles stares, “but-”

“I don’t need it yet. And anyways…you can always join me to pay off the debt.” Charles just blinks. He’d be an idiot to not reach for it, and yet he hesitates. 

The man lifts a brow, “Either you take it, it’s poison and you die, or you don’t take it, and the illness takes you regardless. Or you take it, it’s the medicine and you don’t die.”

“I’ll just be…indebted.” Still, it could be worse, he toys with the thought before flopping his arm limply in Erik’s general direction. “Do it. Please.”

“Good.” Surprisingly tender, though Charles really shouldn’t be surprised given how his mind seems to regularly be superimposing Erik’s face, with that of his memories from Before, Erik lifts his arm from the ground and into his lap. 

Charles hesitates one last moment. Even with the medicine, recovery is ugly and it takes time and resources, things that are of little supply nowadays. “Will you…” look after me, watch over me, feed me, water me… He doesn’t say any of that, obviously, but Erik seems to hear it nonetheless and takes the time to smooth out the wrinkle of his brow, tracing the bone beneath his eye. 

“Of course.” 

[ilguna]

hey babe!! i hope you’re feeling much better than you were a few days ago! (your sickness was passed to me through the phone because i haven’t been able to get out of bed to do anything other than use the restroom, shower, and eat)

but!! i have a small (?) question to ask you. how do you easily write and post a fic??? i’ve gotten quite a few requests, and they’re all very lovely but once i go to write them my mind goes completely blank. like, when i read the request i have so many ideas on how i want it to go, but when i start to write it i just feel bored and end up going to do something else. i really really want to write because i love writing and i used to do it all the time when i was a little bit younger, but now i hardly can anymore :(

i’m thinking about making or reblogging prompt lists, because hopefully that’ll help me put out SOMETHING even if it’s short. but i don’t want to get my hopes up, then lose motivation right after, and it be all for nothing. (it might also be the fact that i’m scared no one will like what i put out and not want to request anything from me again🧍🏻) i know you might not be able to help, but if you are i would really appreciate it! if you can’t, no worries and no hard feelings at all. love ya and stay safe!! xxx

- 🪷

hey!! i am feeling SO much better than i did. and i’m sorry!! i hope you have a speedy recovery too!!

i’m putting a cut cause there’s gonna be a lot of pictures as i explain MY PROCESS, because maybe you’ll be able to pick out some things you’d like to try, because i struggle with the same stuff.

as for your question, this might be a little long. i want to start by saying that it might appear that i’m able to easily write, but the truth is that i also have difficulty starting fics and that’s what fucks me up most of the time.

however!! here’s what i do: i write out what i want to happen. just a couple paragraphs (or more!!) of the idea/general goal/scenes that i come up with that MUST make it. i’ve especially been doing this when it comes to the 3k celebration asks because it helps me to have fics lined up so i can just pick up the next one without worrying what im going to do next.

and i do this either on paper (i have a notebook dedicated to it) or on my phone, which is what i’ve been doing recently. so i just screenshot the ask, put it in my notes app and write down my idea so it turns out what i have below:

the part that i really struggle with is starting the fic, which is why i believe we must be in the same boat. i think that it’s easier to write when i don’t have the pressure of forgetting the idea, because i do have a lot going on and i’d hate for it to escape my mind.

but i have learned some ways to cheat starting the fics. (it’s not really cheating, just basic writing nonsense) and i always have a slow start at the beginning of fics cause idk how to write it without feeling repetitive. so i have a few formulas for that

the following are going to be all examples of how i’ve started my fics:

so either i set up the setting.

i start with an action.

i IMMEDIATELY begin to monologue.

or i start with dialogue.

and sometimes these don’t even work. i can’t tell you the amount of times i’ve started to write a paragraph in google doc, liked where it was going but not how it was phrased, so i pressed enter a couple times and started from scratch while referencing the original paragraph. and i do this SO MUCH that it’s practically part of the writing process now.

also, sometimes writing is just boring in general. i have to really be into the story to want to write it, or i have to accept that it’s boring and make it how i want to. like yes, follow the request. but at the end of the day, if they ever do want to see it, you’ve got to sprinkle some of what you want into the fic.

that’s where i create the backgrounds, start dynamics, give the reader a personality, etc to make it more fun. it gives me something to do while i hit the points of their fics. if that makes sense at all.

ANYWAY, reblogging prompt lists is my worst nightmare tbh. because it can help in many ways or it can literally be the bane of your existence. i hate them, that’s why i only have them available for celebrations.

you don’t get to choose the dialogue, most of the time people won’t give you anything to go off of (an idea to go with the writing), and if you don’t like it, you’re kinda backed into a corner. this is how i see it, it might not be the same for you.

they also might just stack up in your inbox and you’ll see them the same way that you’re seeing your regular requests :( just more stuff to write that you don’t feel like doing anymore.

but also, fear is 100% part of it dude. i still get that way when i post for new fandoms/people and i convince myself that everyone’s gonna hate it. here’s the truth: if people don’t like it, they’re going to keep scrolling. or they’ll read a little bit and then decide that it’s not for them. i have NEVER once received an ask/comment about people hating my fic (except on wattpad cause it’s full of brats 😭) because people don’t usually care that much. i’m even guilty of this!!

honestly, write those fics, just go for it. or if you don’t want to start with those, then write a little blurb you’ve had in your head and post it. gives you some momentum to keep going.

and if people don’t come back, that’s on them. do your own thing in the meantime, you’ll attract people. and when the requests start coming in again, all you have to do is start the process over.

honestly, i’ve been writing and posting fanfic on the internet for the past 7 years now. this is EXACTLY the fear i had each time i got a new account and had to start over. there is literally nothing more terrifying than posting what you love on the internet. but at this point, people dgaf and keep their opinions to themselves. it makes it easier to exist.

i have no idea if any of this made sense but i hope you get what im trying to say 😭 i don’t get this question super often but i try my best. anyway, i love you too 💛 and i will catch you on the flip side!!

[fulcrumstardust]

Watch me breathe 👀

*hums every breath you take*

fun fact: it's not a wip, it's finished but I still haven't posted it because I don't know if I love it or hate it . . .

my starting point was an undercover meeting crossing moral lines but Jyn wasn't the one playing the honey pot for a change. In the aftermath they are forced to talk about their feelings, which neither was really ready for I guess. Happy ending still!

random snippets (sfw but serious themes involved):

The three of them slam their cups on the table, universal gesture of celebration. Jyn is eager to close on that deal and bug out. She can’t take much more of this pointless chit-chat.

“Is he yours?”

The unexpected question sends a cold shiver down her spine. The taste of alcohol lingers in her mouth, bitter and strong. She’s dying to reach for a weapon. Not to kill anyone, not yet. To occupy her hands—and maybe to illustrate the threat.

“He’s in my crew.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the Rainmaker mocks her, “and you know it.”

“Yes, he’s mine,” Jyn snaps, baring her teeth on the word.

“That’s too bad…”

The woman eyes Cassian like a candy she’d like to melt on her tongue.

He doesn’t react, patiently waiting for Jyn to handle it. He trusts her way too much, more than she trusts herself. Just thinking of those hands on him, stroking his hair like she did earlier, is enough to throw Jyn into a loop of blinding rage.

“He’s too old for you, forget it. Now, shall we get on it?” she urges, all attempts at politeness gone. “I’ve got places to raid and shit to steal.”

Jyn knows the look of a woman that isn’t used to being told no. Her gleeful expression cracks, showing signs of the fury underneath. For a minute there, Jyn sees the scene unfolding in front of her—and it doesn’t end well. But the Rainmaker doesn’t make the call. She flushes away her irritation and the soft, enticing manners are back. It’s chilling to the bones.

.

.

.

“We’re okay, Jyn.”

“Are you sure? What I did—”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t tell you to do,” Cassian cuts in, mildly annoyed. “Now, drop it.”

“We should… talk about it, I think.”

“Why? What is there to talk about? Do you think I’m gonna break down because you touched my dick? Come on,” he sneers, “that was nothing.”

Something in his choice of words cuts deep. More than it should.

It’s not entirely her fault if she isn’t a well-adjusted adult—blame it on her upbringing, on the war, on the head injuries—so maybe she can be forgiven for the sudden anger swelling in her chest. Jyn doesn’t take elegantly being pushed away when she’s trying to use her words, for blasted once. Isn’t he the one lamenting that all she does is shoot first and talk later?

Jyn drops from the gurney, pulling her mother’s necklace under her tank top.

“Okay, good to know,” she says on the verge of hostile. “For the record, if you’d put your hands in my pants, I’d need to talk about it… But I’m glad you’re such a tough guy and nothing bothers you. I’m gonna get some sleep, good night.”

When she doesn’t hear footsteps coming after her, Jyn knows that they are, indeed, not okay.

.

.

.

“If the roles were reversed, I wonder how you’d feel.” At that, he winces, tearing his eyes away. “Yeah, exactly! I’m not going to pretend like I don’t care about you just to make it easier on you. And if you have a problem with that, you can fuck right off!”

“You’re still on my ship,” he roars back.

Jyn’s temper short-circuits. She straightens her back and reaches for the closest blade, throwing it across the cockpit with a furious growl. It lands in the middle of a reinforced panel that will now require additional maintenance before they can raise ship. Genius.

Cassian is livid, his neck and face a darker shade than usual.

“Did you just throw a fucking knife at me?”

“I threw it at the wall,” Jyn answers with just as much spite, showing teeth. “And don’t look at me like that. The day I throw a knife at you, you’ll need to patch the hole.”

A gasping sound escapes him, as if he can’t decide between outrage and incredulity. He gestures at the knife sticking out of the ship’s interior like a misplaced handle.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Loose screws, remember?” As soon as she says the words, a crushing weight lands on her chest, stealing the air away. She’s the one averting her eyes now, mumbling in a pathetic voice: “You loved it not so long ago.”

You loved me. But she doesn’t say it. Maybe she really fucked up this time. That’s just so like her, who is she kidding? She’s not good at this, not good for anyone.

“I still do.”

“Only when I’m not an inconvenience to you,” Jyn says, defeated.

Cassian starts pacing circles, going back and forth between the front seats and the sleeping compartment, hands linked on top of his head. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this… agitated.

“Blast! You keep poking at me and expect that I spill my guts to you as if I didn’t spend twenty years avoiding my fucking feelings!” he finally explodes, stopping dead in front of her. “Of course, I push back! What did you think would happen, uh? Tell me!”

That’s… a fair point.

[children-of-epiales]

Tis the season

     Rouen didn’t dare turn around. She knew the boys were smiling because of how red her face was.

“ This is silly-why are you even getting invested in-in me being nice?” The question came out all wrong, but it’s all she could manage until the embarrassment wore off. “ You know what I mean!”

Joshua cracked up first, and it didn’t take long for Augustin to join him in the laughter. “ You see, Rouen, this is how we know you have a horrible crush on Ngoma.” The former pointed out. “ Giving a gift isn’t difficult for you, but if it’s for someone you love-”

“ I don’t love Néon!” Rouen hissed loudly and bitterly at the boys. Her eyes grew at what she just did and the brunette removed her glasses so she could cover her eyes. “ Why can’t you two just let me be miserable?”

“ Because you’re getting embarrassed and upset over something that is perfectly human,” Augustin answered, his voice carrying some fierceness as well. “ Joshua, me, Hayat, Evangeline-everyone knows you-you care about Sens more than you’d like. We want this to happen for you and we know you’ve been making your own efforts to get close with them anyway.”

“ They’re some very sad efforts, so I decided you earned yourself a B plus for trying multiple times.” 

Augustin glared down at Joshua, his eyes narrowed to remind the Irishman of the conversation they had earlier. “ Okay I know the joking doesn’t help-” Joshua said to correct himself, “-but can we all agree that there’s an easier way to go about getting close with someone instead of having multiple, short conversations about small details?”

Rouen had half of a mind to ask how long Joshua watched her approach Néon and lose nerve before she could say something important to them, the realization that they were being quite patient with her struck her. “ You’re right.” The brunette muttered as she leaned against the lockers. “ But giving Néon a gift-that’s really bold, and you know the rules about being buddy-buddy is around here.”

A loud “Ha!” escaped the boys at the same time. “ Don’t you worry about that, Rouen-we got the dirt about Pulse and Hibana being ‘buddy-buddy’!” Joshua announced cheekily. “ We heard that Mr. Sunglasses split with Hibana before he joined Nighthaven; how she feels about that-I couldn’t get-but that’s not important. What is important is that you have a chance.” 

“ Okay-” Joshua placed a hand on Rouen’s shoulder and they sat down on the bench together. “ How about we start small first? You invited Ngoma to the holiday dinner-we’ll host it on the twenty-seventh and then see about New Years, how’s that sound?”

“ The twenty-seventh? I can’t ask Néon for that-”

“ Of course you can.” Augustin cut in. “ Think about it: when’s the last time someone joined us in one of our celebrations? I think Six would certainly approve of the arrangement. And who would Sens be to say no?”

Rouen put her glasses on and let out a very tired sigh. Who would she be to back out of an opportunity to get closer to Néon? Especially when she had so much support? 

“ Just do me a favor…” The brunette requested. “ I’ll ask Sens to come to the dinner, but you two better let Evan know about this. The last thing I want is to have to explain myself in front of everyone-do you guys hear me?” 

Joshua sat up straight and saluted his friend. “ Understood, Ma’am!” He stood up and motioned for Rouen to hurry up. “ Now c’mon, c’mon! You’ve got a lovely Belgian person to ask out to dinner!”

“ Don’t say it like that!” Rouen chastised, her face immediately flushed again. 

While Joshua went to fulfill his end of the bargain, Augustin and Rouen went to fulfill the latter’s end and tried to look for Sens. 

They found the Belgian operator speaking to Melusi; they both still wore their Wolfguard uniforms, so it appeared they just finished training together. 

“ Those uniforms have grown on me-” Joshua quietly revealed to Rouen, “-especially those blue colors, I guess I was so used to what Nightmare was doing that the color choice seemed-I don’t know-bold? It certainly looks nice on Ngoma though, doesn’t it?” He patted his friend firmly in the middle of her back. 

Rouen rolled her eyes. “ You keep your mouth shut unless you’re absolutely positive you’re gonna say something helpful, got it?” 

“ Hey I’m the best wingman-” 

The brunette shushed Joshua before she tried to force herself to approach the two Wolfguard members; she paused upon noticing Sens already spotted her, watching as they and Melusi went their separate ways and they approached the two Nightmare members.

Feeling a sudden boost of confidence and determination, Rouen decided to dive head first into the conversation. “ So we were wondering-I was wondering but we were wondering too-there’s gonna be a dinner…” She paused, trying to think of how to make sense of all the babbling she just did. “ It’s going to be at my place this year, we-Nightmare-we try to do it every year and-and it’s fun and there’s food there. If you’re into that sort of thing.” 

She went quiet for a moment after noticing the humored smile that appeared on Sens’ face. “ I’m very into eating food for the holidays,” They said, “ are you asking me if I’d like to go?”

From behind Rouen, Joshua gave the Belgian a thumbs up. 

“ Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am…” The brunette confirmed, knowing her face was horribly flushed. “ If you can’t go, that’s fine too. I-uh-I know I don’t exactly see you as much as I should. I mean like talk to you when I see you-but I know you’re busy and all so-” Her chest felt so heavy, she wanted to fall to her knees and curl up in a ball. But Rouen knew she wouldn’t regret asking Sens to attend the dinner, this would be the first step of her attempt to make it known that she liked them.

“ Augustin and I are cooking this year too,” Joshua spoke up from behind the Canadian. “ We’re pretty damn good cooks, if I do say so myself.”

“ Oh, well if that’s the case-how could I refuse?” Sens said, shrugging their shoulders as if that comment sealed the deal. 

Rouen’s mouth fell open and she glanced back at her friend. “ What-are you two working together or something?” The question came out a little more sour than she wanted, and only Joshua knew that. 

Sens’ eyes grew a little, recognizing that the brunette clearly didn’t mean like being co-workers, but that they had agreed to play some nasty joke on her. “ Rouen, I wouldn’t just go to the dinner party for the food…” They put a hand on Rouen’s arm. “ I would like to go because you invited me, I was only joking about the food part.” 

They offered the brunette a soft smile. “ So, when is the dinner?” 

When Rouen clearly seemed to be speechless, Joshua stepped in for her again. “ The twenty-seventh! We’ll pay for your flight, Buddy-so don’t you worry about that!” 

Sens acknowledged Joshua with a joyful grin-a typical response to his silliness-but before they had to go, they gently squeezed Rouen’s arm and wished her and Joshua well. 

“ I swear-” Rouen mumbled as she turned to face Joshua, “-I’m gonna die, J. Please help me.”

“ Oh no-there will be none of that, not before you confess your feelings to Ngoma.” Joshua reminded his friend. “ Then you can pass out, and-you know-it’ll be one of those scenes from the movies. They’ll pick you up and their face will be really close to yours and-”

“ J!”

Tag list: @poisonedtruth @kryptonian-puppy

[ruminate88]

Taking The Easy Way Out In Life But Actually Living Harder:

The more you fight against growing pains, the more painful they’ll be! You’ve got to experience them and learn from them!!! I was born with a couple small complications and I couldn’t leave the hospital right away. I had a slow start in life. By the time I’m old enough for school, I’m not quite mature enough and my kindergarten teacher thought I should repeat that grade but my dad was full on against it. I was pushed on but wasn’t ready for 1st grade. Whenever 1st grade came, I hated it! I cried every morning begging not to go… That was when I met my best friend Lori who also struggled like me and we bonded instantly. It was never “love”, it was codependency. As I tried to grow up, I needed to lose Lori becuase she was only holding me back… She would never hear me out and eventually I just cut her out of my life but that sucked for me. Depression shortly followed after that.

I was always looking for “short cuts” in life but yet always ended up making life harder for myself. When I became homeschooled, I thought it would be easier than school but it wasn’t. I watched so many people graduate before me and get their diploma.(I felt like a complete loser) I had been taking care of everyone else around me and avoiding myself. I did get my GED before I turned 20 but it didn’t make me feel smart… By 25, I was focused on the kids I was raising and focused on my brother’s needs. Put myself away cuz I didn’t even know me or like me. 🥺 Always looking for an escape. Drowned myself in pornography and music. I wasn’t attracted to drugs and it’s a good thing too. (I would’ve been a complete addict)

I was in the darkest moments of my life. Learned how to be numb. Don’t feel the pain of life. Life is soooo hard yet I just want to find a short cut. I lived in depression and always used “I’m gonna hurt myself” hoping for people to not leave me but they always did. After my last toxic relationship, I’m FINALLY facing myself and it’s a total nightmare. I’ve neglected myself so long, tried to lean on other people for happiness. Tried to take shortcuts in life but by neglecting myself, I’ve made myself suffer way harder than anyone should have to. I met my husband directly after Andrew and he helps me learn to drive a car. Then we get married. Now marriage is hard work!!! Having to drive to the grocery store, carry it all inside the house, cook the food, clean up the house, be a faithful wife, save money, plan kids, be a good daughter in law, be a good friend, still show up for my parents. It’s all different now!!!!! It’s not easy!!!!

Suddenly my body falls apart within a few years of marriage. I realize I’ve lost hair, I got super sick and lost a lot of weight, I’m tired all the freakin time, I have mood swings, I am either burning up or freezing!!! Bumping into stuff like crazy and constantly having bruises randomly all over me that I can’t explain. I even fell last Christmas off a ladder putting up Christmas lights cuz I’m not stable 🥴 All the impact of being emotionally abused, finally caught up to me!!! There’s NO shortcuts to healing for it all either. I’m constantly triggered by my husband and there isn’t a thing he can do about it. It’s all me. I’m having to finally grow up and take care of myself!! No one can do it for me…

You can try to take short cuts in life but you end up on a long and crazy road. Somehow, I think everything I’ve went through will actually make me stronger but did it really have to all be this way???? My home school journey, just seemed like it was meant to be although I do feel I tried to cheat myself out of so many things. Why did I self sabotage so much????

Don’t run from who you are, face yourself and work on yourself! Don’t put it off any longer!!! You want a good life?? Gotta put in the time and effort. 🥺💪🏻

[oilivia]

"worth the wait" - w/ Gojo

a/n: this ended up much longer than i intended to, but after watching the new JJK op Gojo was the only thing on my mind. no beta and smut after the cut. hope you’ll enjoy it and reblogs are appreciated!

pairing: Gojo x fem reader

tw: teasing, corruption themes, size difference, masturbation, nipple play, knee grinding, multiple orgasms, mindbreak, cum play  

word count: 1.9k

You hate that you can’t hate him. You wish you didn’t find his stupid jokes so funny, or the matter-of-factly way in which he says “I’m the best” so attractive. It would all be much easier for you if you could snicker and roll your eyes at his confidence when he’d say “I know you think about me at night.”

Instead, thinking about him at night is exactly what you do. Hand between your thighs, fingers buried in your hole as you get off to the thought of him on top of you, pumping in and out of your tight cunt. You wonder how he’d react if one day you’d reply to his comment with an ‘Yes’. Would he laugh? Would he tease you? Or maybe you’d finally get to taste his lips, to wrap your fingers around his cock.

“What are you thinking about?” you flinch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Is it me?” he whispers in a teasing tone, a shiver running down your spine when his hot breath hits your ear. How much of an asshole can he be sneaking up on you like this? Well, fuck it, you think. What’s the worst that could happen?

“And what if I was, Gojo?” There is a short pause and you internally facepalm, maybe confessing it wasn’t such a good idea. But then he laughs and your eyes dart to him.

“So you’re finally admitting it. Took you long enough.” You don’t even get to say a word before his mouth is on yours. With a hand on the back of your head and one on your waist, he’s pushing you until your back is pressed against the nearest wall. He pries your legs open with a knee, pressing it against your crotch and when you whine, he pulls his tongue from your eager mouth with a smirk. “I thought you’d fight back a bit more. But I guess you find me irresistible, huh?” 

You feel your skin burning at his words and the way he’s rubbing his knee on your pussy with only a couple of thin layers of clothing separating you isn’t helping. “You’re such a jerk,” you retort, but he just chuckles.

“And you’d like it if this jerk railed you right here?” He gathers both your hands and pins them above your head. Your heart is beating faster, the way he’s towering over you driving you crazy, his luscious lips within inches of yours. You want to give in so badly. 

It’s now or never. “Not here,” you whisper, trying to convince yourself as much as him. You’re right in the middle of a hallway at Jujutsu Tech, not the best place to fuck. Not if you don’t plan on finding another job at least. It’s getting harder to hold in your moans the more he’s teasing your covered clit and at this point the spot on his pants that’s pressed on you must be wet as well. 

“Hmm, I’ll indulge you since it’s our first time,” he chuckles and picks you up. A few moments later, he gently throws you on a bed “I brought you to my apartment if you’re so shy, though I’d rather have taken you right against that wall.” You know some things about Gojo’s cursed techniques, but still, it never fails to amaze you just how strong it is. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. That, and the few times you had those otherworldly eyes staring down at you.

You don’t have much time to analyze your motivations, not with the man himself climbing on top of you, jacket thrown next to the bed and shirt half unbuttoned. He is going to make you work for it if you want to see him naked. He enjoys seeing the battle within you between your desire for him and your desire to remain unbothered. It amuses him. It’s always fun, making the cool and collected ones lose themselves with lust. Have them crawl to him on their knees. And he knows just how to do it.

“You look so pretty splayed like that on my bed,” he mutters as he runs his hand up your naked leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps from your calf to your inner thigh. “I think we should take these off, they’re drenched,” he coos, tugging down your panties. You whimper when you feel the cold air hit your drooling slit. His lips are closing in to your ear again “And I’m keeping them - a memento of how much you want me.” He loves watching your expressions when he pushes your buttons. It’s easy with you, you respond so cutely to his teasing, so sensitive, so needy. He can’t wait to see how you’ll squirm when he’s fucking you, how your eyes will roll at the back of your head. 

“Pervert,” you hiss, but he only chuckles at that. Gojo licks the shell of your ear, hand kneading your breasts. A whine escapes you and you feel the corners of his mouth tug into a grin as he’s planting kisses on your jawline - he’s breaking your defenses, slowly but surely. Why would you be resisting him anyways? 

“So you’re into perverts, hmm?” He slips a finger between your wet folds slowly and you moan oh, so prettily for him. “Moaning like this from just a finger, such a cutie. What are you going to do when I put my cock inside you? Good thing the walls aren’t thin.” He pushes in and out of you while he’s lifting your top, planting kisses on your stomach and moving up to your breasts. He frees them from the confine of your bra and latches his mouth on one of your nipples, sucking as he adds a second finger in your cunt. You whine and he relishes the way your walls are sucking in his digits. You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around his cock.

Tingles run through your body. When you do it yourself it doesn't feel nearly as good. But you want more - need more. So when you see him release your nipple with a pop and pull his fingers from your sopping cunt only to stare at you with an impish smile, you can’t help but whine “Gojo, please!”

“Call me Satoru,” he grins “You’re always so formal, even naked on my bed. And please what?”

“Please stop being such a tease and just fuck me already!” Your cheeks are burning up, you can’t believe he’s making you act like such a needy slut. 

“All you had to do was ask,” he chuckles, untying his blindfold “I want you to look at me while I make you cream on my cock.”

Gojo’s eyes are just as mesmerizing as you remember and staring into them feels like taking a plunge off a cliff, just to fall into the sky. You bite your lip, you could be so cheesy sometimes. But you can’t stop looking, barely registering the way he takes your hands and places them on his shirt, unbuttoning it with your own fingers and then moving to undo the clasp of his belt. 

“Just like this,” he coos, pushing you on your back once he’s done making you undress him. Your eyes widen when you see his cock, fully hard and drops of precum leaking from the tip. “You like it?”

“I-I’m not sure it’s going to fit-” 

“We’ll make it fit,” Gojo coaxes, placing your legs on his shoulders and pressing the tip against your entrance. You whine, the way he’s spreading your muscle rim both painful and delicious. Inch by inch he’s stretching your tight walls, your back arching. He’s rubbing against each and every one of your sensitive spots and you’re so close to cumming just by having him enter you. “Oh, look at you, you’re so fucking wet and still so fucking tight.”

He grunts, sheeting himself inside you fully with one deep thrust. He gives you a moment to rest, enjoying the way your walls clench around his length. Gojo had his eyes on you for a while. He saw the way you always hesitated for a second every time he teased you, how you’d fight laughing at his jokes. And how you swayed your hips so alluringly each time you walked away as if spending one more second in his presence would make all your defenses crumble. But he knew it was just a matter of time before you’d fall right into his arms. You were just too cute, too innocent - he had to have you. 

“S-Satoru,” you moan his name when he starts moving again. Each thrust is hard and deep and each of them makes the coil in your abdomen tighten. His hands are on your ass, spreading your cheeks. You cry his name over and over. And he just pounds into you, slamming his hips into yours. He isn’t going to be gentle just because you never had a cock as big. He can’t, he’s not that merciful. You’re just too pretty, how you whine and squirm, how your much smaller body shakes when he touches you, when he fucks into you. Your eyes are glazed over, but you don’t close them, no, you’re looking straight at him. Drool is dripping from the corner of your mouth, and slick is running down your thighs. 

“You’re such a mess. Such a pretty fucking mess,” he smirks and thrusts harder. Your hands grip the sheets. So desperate, so needy. You need to hold onto something to keep you from bursting. But when he leans on you and his lips wrap around your nipples once more - you can’t hold it anymore. The coil snaps as your mind goes blank, your body frantically trying to pull him deeper inside you, squeezing, milking him.

He’s panting as he keeps fucking you through your high. He’s chasing his own release, trying to decide which part of your body he should mark with his cum. Your bouncy tits? Your pretty face? Or maybe he should just finish inside you and watch as it drips from your well-fucked hole. He’s close, so close. And you’re still cumming - is it the second or the third time? It doesn’t matter.

Pulling out of your velvety walls, he strokes his cock while rubbing your clit. He wants to see you squirming for a little while more. His body jerks and with a grunt he sprays his cum all over your stomach and breasts, a few drops landing on your face as you’re cumming again from the pressure on your clit. 

He’d ask you if you’d be able to fuck another man after this, but there was no point. You are so out of it, your walls clenching around nothing and body still shaking - you couldn’t answer him anyway. Gojo will just have to wait until you’re coherent again. He knows you won’t be able to stay away from him anymore, you’ll just be crawling on your hands and knees back to him, begging for his cock. And he’s going to give it to you, he’s going to fuck you in every corner of the school. It seems the wait was worth it.

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