#don’t ever stop being the wonderful person you are!

[cheyisagirlkisser]

—nepenthe

content: angst and comfort, reader is ambessa's servant, mentions of prostitution, vi's pitfighter era, make-out session, alcohol, two heartbroken people who honestly just need a hug, mentions of degrading names.

"nepenthe"

– an ancient greek word, nepenthe, is defined as a medicine for sorrow. it is a place, person, or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering.

You sit alone, forehead resting on the surface of the bar. It’s stuffy, crowded with an outpour of Zaunites. The fight in the underground ring must’ve been over now. You sigh, tapping the shot glass against the bar. You try not to let tears gather in the corners of your eyes, free to fall down your cheeks, but it’s nearly hopeless. Being a servant to a high rank is one of the worst paths you could’ve taken. 

You remember the days you worked in Babette’s brothel. At least then, you didn’t fall in love with your clients. Why did you love Ambessa so much? Less like a wave and more of a tsunami, she enjoys crashing into you. You love it, too. Ambessa is a lioness, brave and fierce. You’re not a tiger or a panther, not even a common housecat. You’re a stray. 

Voices fill your ears from every angle, but the one that isn’t there, the one that you wish to be real repeats endlessly. 

“You’re nothing but a whore. Do you really think I’d ever make you my wife?” Her laugh that followed her harsh words rings in your head like a church bell. 

“You’re just another filthy Zaunite girl, and that’s what you’ll die as.” 

Your whole body trembled when she said that, as she dismissed you. It’s back to the brothels for you, and you wonder if there is anything more humiliating than going from living in a mansion with one of Noxia’s most respected commanders to back in your shabby house in the under city. You can’t dwell on the thought, though you want to. Someone next to you taps your shoulder, nearly causing you to snap. The voice is oddly familiar. 

“You look a little pathetic, you know. You didn’t even take the shot.” They say, words harsh but clearly a light tease. The voice is clearly a woman’s, though slurred in a drunken haze. You’ve heard it before, but from where? 

You force yourself to sit up and face your left, where the voice is coming from. There is an infamous face. Light freckles dotted over pale skin, and what used to be a reddish-pink hair is now stained a midnight black. The scar on her upper-lip shifts with her smile, though the expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“You can have it.” You mumble, eyes leaving hers. You should feel embarrassed to be moping around in a bar, but you don’t care. 

Vi sighs, feeling a twinge of sympathy for you. Regardless, she grabs the shot, tilting her head back as the vodka rushes down her throat. It’ll come back up later. 

“What’s your deal?” She asks, scooching closer to you. 

“Relationship issues.” You simply say, though the strain in your voice is clear. Relationship, if you could ever call it that. Serving to Ambessa’s every need and bending to her will was a dynamic, you were never her lover. You could never be a wife is a thought that lingers in your head and plagues you like an incoming pandemic, a disease that could wipe out towns. Vi seems to know, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans in, patting your back in a soothing manner. 

“My place?” She offers into your ear, words like a poison stronger than alcohol or shimmer. You find yourself walking down the street, leaning on each other as she leads you to her small apartment. 

Inside, kisses are sloppy and taste more like a bottle of cheap vodka than anything pleasant. You desperately cup her face, fingers tangled in her hair. Her hands grab your waist and send a much-needed warmth up your spine. 

Perhaps if you stop to tell each other who you got your hearts trampled by, then there would be some comforting relations. Vi would tell you that you are more than a whore, and Ambessa would be lucky to have you. That you deserve more than to have to quiet down and be an obedient piece of property. You would tell Vi that she is sweet, deserves better than Caitlyn. But words aren’t exchanged, and that is what makes the kisses so desperate. 

You wish to speak it all with your tongue sucking on hers, and she is needy to vent out her frustrations by pushing you down onto her twin-sized bed, quickly following you down. Vi is warm, almost too warm that it burns you to love on her. 

You don’t even realize that you began crying until you’re wondering why Vi pulled away. She looks more concerned than turned on, wiping at your cheeks and leaning in to kiss them. 

“I’ll punch whoever did this to you.” She states, burying her face into your neck and softly kissing your beating pulse. You’re alive, and it’s a comfort to her. Vi’s breath on the surface of your skin warms you throughout, and you can feel her body. She is real. 

You’ll wonder why you’re in this woman’s bed in the morning, perhaps deciding to sneak out before she can even wake up. However, for now, you hold each other, letting your scents mix and your fingers intertwine until the sun rises over the horizon. 

[delugyu]

hi!! i was wondering if i could request a one shot based on the GGUM mv where yeonjun is a cocky and bratty k pop idol that belittles everyone and basically the reader is like his mananger who’s had enough of his behavior and decides to teach him a lesson and he’s super submissive.

btw i LOVE your writing. cold, curse city was amazing <3

jumped for joy when i saw submissive yeonjun YAYYYYYYY (also thank you!!! hehe)

(wc: 2k / warnings: mean dom!reader, sub!yeonjun, reader’s kind of a bitch but yeonjun is too so it’s okay, degradation, humiliation, oral kinda idk eating pussy thru the panties, unprotected sex, edging..?)

you’re pretty sure that the biggest source of your headaches on any given day is the man you’re watching right now—on a tuesday at eight in the morning—who’s trying to convince you that the interviewer deserved it earlier when he called her an idiot.

“yeah, no. that’s never happening again,” you say plainly, cutting off his long-winded explanation. if only he could catch on when you’re trying to leave no room for argument, but unfortunately he has the most major case of lacking respect and decorum that you’ve ever seen.

“so you think it was okay for her to say that being bratty is my whole brand?” he asks.

“well, if you keep acting the way you do, then you can’t be surprised if that’s what people focus on.” you won’t lie: his brash personality is definitely good for gaining attention. his PR team never has to work too hard, since they know yeonjun’s going to do something stupid to get him on the news anyway. you’re jealous, cause you’re over here busting your ass to make sure he doesn’t go too far and ruin his career.

“i’d be selling a fake image if i was out there kissing babies and shaking hands,” yeonjun says.

“so the better alternative is running your mouth until half the country wants you beaten up?” you don’t want him to act like someone he’s not, but you also don’t want him to be such a dick to everyone.

“stop acting like you know me or the things i want,” he says. it lights a fire inside of you, rage burning at his insinuation. “i don’t want a nice, clean image. i fucking hate it when you try to force that onto me.”

he walks away into his dressing room, probably done with you and this conversation, but you’ve had it. you’re pissed, and he needs to learn that he doesn’t sit on top of the world. you mutter out quick apologies to the staff you push past in your haste to follow yeonjun.

before you can step into the room, yeonjun slams the door in front of your face. “yeonjun, are you fucking kidding me?!” you bang your fist against the door when turning the knob doesn’t work.

“go away,” he says from behind the door. you let out something like a growl in your frustration, feeling like you might just rip all your hair out. it’s too early to already be doing this.

“why do you throw fits every time i try to tell you to have some respect? you can never just bite your tongue for a second.”

you’re met with silence. you hate when he starts tuning you out. you’ll have to pop a few tylenols after this to keep your headache from killing you.

you start up once more, “you think anyone’s gonna look at your art before they look at you as a person? what’s the point in making good music if the person behind it is such a jackass?”

again, no reply. you sigh, running your hands down your face as you try to collect yourself. this isn’t worth it. he’s never going to change.

“i’m thinking i should just quit and let you deal with whatever asshole comes in after me,” you say, just trying to stir him into giving you a response now. you usually keep yourself from going back and forth with him like this, but he’s been on your nerves way too much recently. you were bound to explode with how much he’s been testing you.

the door finally opens. you don’t waste a second when you push it wider and enter the room, shutting it behind you. he’s crossing his arms, eyebrow raised like he’s waiting for you to scold him some more.

“you actually gonna quit, or was that all talk?” he asks.

you scowl and push on his shoulders until he’s sitting on one of the chairs. his eyes widen for a second like he’s surprised you actually put your hands on him. he should be grateful you don’t do worse.

“listen, i’m not going to take your shit anymore. i’m not giving you a choice. you need to have some respect.” you look down at him with ice cold eyes. he squirms a little in his seat; you almost find it funny.

“i don’t know how you expect me to do that. this is just how i am,” he counters.

“shutting your mouth would be a good start.” you put your hand over his lips when he opens them to start talking again. “see, you’re already trying to bark. just listen.”

you keep your hand there, and you’re kind of surprised that he doesn’t even try to move you away. your other hand grips the back of his chair so that you’re leaning over him, and you finally feel like you’re more powerful than him. you feel like he might listen to you for once.

“if you don’t want to be seen as a brat, then don’t be a brat,” you say. “you can have a tough image without annoying everyone. people see you more as a toddler than as some cool guy.”

his eyes dart down, and you realize that, with you leaning over him, he has a great view of your cleavage. he’s staring at your tits. scandalized, you grab his jaw to tilt his head all the way up, so he can either stare at the ceiling or look at your face. he chooses the ceiling.

“are you trying to make me hate my job? do you want me to quit?” you ask.

his eyes find yours at that, and you’re a little surprised to not find any fight in them. he shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut.

“you can answer now,” you say, letting go of his jaw.

“don’t quit, i like you as my manager,” he answers quickly. you huff out a laugh.

“well you sure as hell don’t act like it.”

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes—and sounds completely sincere, too.

you stand up straight, assessing him silently. you let your eyes rake down his body, noticing how he doesn’t move an inch. looks like you’ve finally put him in his place. it’s such a shame that it practically takes you bullying him to get to this point.

“so you’re gonna cool the tough guy act?” you ask.

“i dunno, maybe you should test how obedient i can be,” he prompts with a growing smile. wow, and you were doing so well.

“get off that chair.” immediately he does, standing up and waiting for his next instruction. you laugh at how pathetic his switch up is. you’d love for the nation to see yeonjun now, so eager to follow your orders. how far will he go?

you decide to test it out. “kneel.”

he’s just as quick to follow through with that, too. a power rush is already surging inside you, pumping adrenaline through your body. he looks up at you from his position on his knees. there’s still some space between you, though.

“come a little closer. crawl to me.” your pleased smile stays on your face as you watch him obey, keeping eye contact as he inches toward you.

“this is so funny,” you say as you look down at him. for the first time in your life, you see him look embarrassed. his eyes dart off to the side, unable to take the torment. “eyes on me. don’t you dare try looking away again.”

his cheeks glow with a subtle red tint, you notice as you take in his face. “would you be so kind as to apologize to me again?” you ask.

“i’m sorry,” he answers promptly.

“hm. better than that.”

he looks confused, but you know he’s desperate to follow because he’s quick to oblige. “i’m sorry i was such a brat to you and everyone else.”

“you were a brat. what do you think brats like you deserve?”

you feel him shiver. “punishment,” he answers meekly.

“that’s right.” you place your foot on his crotch, not paying any mind to how hard he is already. “what a shame you were so bad. you could’ve came today.” you take your foot off him and spread your legs apart. “get me nice and wet for your cock.”

“w-what?” he stammers, looking up at you all scandalized.

“i’m not in the mood to repeat myself.” with all the eagerness he’s ever had, yeonjun grips onto your thighs and dips his head beneath your skirt. he starts licking your cunt over your panties, tongue working adamantly against you like he’s scared to do it wrong or poorly.

you sigh, relaxing into the feeling. this is better stress relief than any amount of medicine could give you. maybe you’ll be resorting to this more often.

he wraps his lips around your clothed clit and sucks, then swipes his tongue across the swollen bud. he’s deeply focused on pleasuring you, repeating any little action that makes your legs twitch. you hate to admit it, but he’s getting you wet so fast.

“guess this is the only way to shut you up, huh?” you ask, and you feel him nod in response. “should i do this more then?”

“yes,” he pulls away to say, replacing his mouth with his fingers rubbing quickly against you. “do it as much as you want.”

“is the promise of pussy the only way you’ll—fuck, just like that—respect me?” his fingers run wildly over your clit, desperation oozing off of him.

“only yours. i’ll do anything for it.” he presses into your core, grinding his hand against you. “you’re so wet. please sit on my cock.”

you hum, wanting to say no and torture him more, but you can’t deny how bad you want to feel him inside you.

“sit on the chair and undo your pants,” you instruct. you slide off your panties as he does that.

you sit on his lap and give his dick a few quick jerks before aligning it with your entrance. he makes more noise than you do as you sink onto him, which would make you snicker if you weren’t so busy adjusting to his size.

“you moan like a bitch,” you hiss out as you finally take all of him in. you stay bottomed out for a minute, letting yourself get used to the stretch, grinding your hips every now and then to hear him whine.

“please move, i need more,” he says after a minute.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you start moving anyway—not because he begged you to, but because you’re getting needier for your orgasm. “this isn’t about you, brat.”

he keeps whining as you bounce on his dick, throwing his head back and dropping his mouth open. he sounds so much better when he’s moaning like a whore instead of bitching at everyone on earth.

you gasp when you feel his fingers on your clit, playing with the bud with endless need. even when he bites his lip, little noises keep spilling out of him, and a part of you is almost afraid that someone’s going to hear him.

“i’m close,” you say as you lean back a little, letting his dick hit a new spot inside of you. his eyes shine when he sees your body start twitching.

“i want you to cum so bad, please please give it to me!” his begging throws you ever the edge, biting your lip so you don’t make any sound. breathy little noises escape you instead, which yeonjun seems to like just as much.

you swat his hand away when it becomes too much, catching your breath while you ignore yeonjun’s twitching dick inside of you. yeonjun’s losing his patience, grabbing your hips needily.

“i need to cum too,” he says, brows upturned and almost looking pitiful. you enjoy the feeling of him inside you for a couple more seconds before getting up.

“isn’t that too bad,” you say. his jaw drops, and he goes speechless yet again. “don’t look so surprised. didn’t i tell you that you won’t be cumming today?”

the betrayal on his face suddenly makes this job worth every penny.

[mommyslittlebird]

As The Summer Ends

Wanda x Natasha x Reader

As the summer comes to a close, you and your girlfriends celebrate with one more day in the sun.

CW: Pure fluff, R calls WandaNat Mama/Daddy but only like once.

Word Count: 1.3k(ish)

A/N: Happy last day of summer everyone! I hope everyone had a wonderful season, and you’re all excited to see what wonders the fall brings.

It was your first year ever attending Pepper Potts’ yearly “end of the summer” pool party: the celebration she had every year the day before it was time to cover the pool for the winter. You’d been invited as Wanda and Natasha’s plus one, as you still didn’t really know Pepper, or anyone else in attendance.

Much to your dismay, none of the other women seemed too eager to actually be in the pool. In fact, aside from you, Natasha was the only other person in the water. And she wasn’t even swimming. She was leaned up against the side of the pool talking to Maria.

Sure it was a little cold, as it was late September and there was a growing chill in the air, but you never got to go swimming. You did so love the water.

Wanda’s heart swelled with affection as she watched you from a beach chair, flopping around the water like a fish. Your child-like nature knew no bounds. You didn’t seem to have a care in a world about what the adults around you were doing, despite being one yourself. You swam laps around the pool, did handstands in the water, dove off the side and swam to the bottom of the deep end. You seemed to be keeping yourself entertained well.

However, as time wore on, Wanda could see you getting restless. You tried to join Natasha and Maria’s conversation, but they didn’t seem interested. Wanda frowned as she watched you try to talk, only to be ignored and talked over by her wife and her friend. Your joyful disposition cracked into one of isolation as you slowly began to feel like an outsider in this group of people.

She huffed, tempted to go over and have a word with Natasha about ignoring you. But, as she remembered how much you had had playing in the water, she got a better idea. She sat down on the lip of the pool, putting her feet into the cool water.

“Honey!” she shouted, making you turn your head as you popped up out of the water. She curled her fingers, beckoning you towards her. Obediently, you stopped everything you were doing to join her on the edge of the pool, laying your head on your hands next to her to avoid getting her wet.

“Yes?” you asked, innocently looking up at her from the water.

She lifted your head and bent over to whisper in your ear. “If you can knock Tasha over in the water, I’ll get you ice cream on the way home.”

You nervously turned around to find Natasha where she’d been this whole time, talking to Maria by the side of the pool. Her top half was completely out of the water. She hadn’t even gotten her hair wet. “But she’s talking to Maria. It would be impolite to-” you attempted to explain.

She cut you off with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, little love. I’m sure their conversation is drier than a sack of flour anyway. Go make your daddy actually have some fun.” She winked, lightly pinching your cheek.

A smile slowly grew across your face as you turned away from Wanda. You planned your approach carefully, deciding to launch yourself off the side wall and throw yourself into the back of her knees as hard as you possibly could.

Natasha stumbled as you knocked against her, immediately annoyed. “What the-” She glanced down at you in the water, then up at Wanda, smirking smugly by the side of the pool. She rolled her eyes and picked you up out of the water.

You squealed as you were caught, disappointed but not surprised that your first attempt had failed.

“Hold on, Maria,” Natasha joked. “I gotta teach this little punk a lesson.” You tried to squirm out of her grasp, but you were quickly thrown ass over head into the deep end of the pool.

You squealed again with excited delight. Wanda smiled, watching as you quickly turned tailed to go for Natasha’s feet again. Once again, you were dragged out of the water and tossed back into the deep end. Natasha had no difficulty dexterously dodging your attempts to knock her down, but you didn’t even really care to be losing the bet. It was reward enough to finally have somebody to play with, even if you were devastatingly out matched.

You were getting out of breath after a few rounds of fighting Natasha just to be effortlessly tossed back into the water again. You grabbed at the side of the pool, breathing heavy. Natasha was laughing now too, enjoying your frazzled and breathless face. She was glad that Wanda could at least pick a game that took way more energy out of you than her.

You turned around, ready to make another pass at Natasha. You didn’t actually think you'd ever be able to knock her down, but you liked it when she threw you into the water. You grabbed at her legs again. However, this time, before she could grab you and pull you out of the water, you saw two scarlet tendrils wrap around her ankles. She shouted before she was quickly pulled under the water.

You stood up, a little dazed, to find Natasha coming out of the water as well, completely and utterly soaked. Her nicely curled hair was now flat and wet against her head.

“You got her!” Wanda laughed.

“Oh it’s on,” Natasha challenged, quickly making her way to the end of the pool, where Wanda sat. Before she could reach her, though, she was wrapped with more scarlet tendrils that hoisted her out of the water, carried her to the deep end of the pool, and dropped her in.

You shrieked with joyous surprise, making your way back to Wanda as well. She let you approach, knowing that, unlike Natasha, you would never dream of pulling her into the water. “Mama, can you throw me next?”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You want me to throw you in the water like Tasha?”

You nodded eagerly.

She wrapped you up in her magic, pulling you from the water and carrying you across the pool. You giggled as the magic disappeared and you were dropped into the water.

Natasha climbed out of the water, grabbing a towel and drying herself off before sitting down next to Wanda. She laughed as you eagerly swam all the way back to them, looking up at Wanda expectantly.

“Again?” Wanda chuckled.

You nodded, laughing uncontrollably as she picked you again and threw you into the water. She went a bit higher this time, not dropping you until you were a good ten feet above the water.

She threw you a few more times, changing her tactics a little every time. Sometimes she dropped you in upside down. Other times she would hold you still above the water while you waited in anxious anticipation to be dropped. You were roaring with excitement and laughter the whole time.

It wasn’t long before you were completely and utterly spent, physically exhausted from all the swimming. Natasha stood next to the steps, a fluffy towel in her outspread arms. You breathlessly climbed up into her arms, allowing yourself to be dried off.

Wanda made a space for you to sit in between her legs. You happily sat down, putting your feet back into the water as she pulled you so your back was flush to her front. You cuddled into her tiredly.

Somebody tapped your shoulder from behind. You turned your head to find Pepper, holding a waffle cone with chocolate ice cream. “I heard ice cream was on the line. And it looks like you won the bet.”

You smiled and took the ice cream, eagerly licking at it before it could melt in the sun. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”

“Of course, kiddo,” she said, playfully ruffling your hair.

Wanda laughed as you proceeded to get the ice cream all over your face. She periodically wiped it away with a towel.

You would miss days like this as the air grew colder. There would be no more pool days, no more opportunities to comfortably spend the days outside in the sun. But fall brought new excitement of its own.

You could only hope you’d be tucked between these same arms by the fireplace come winter.

[rhiannonsknife]

could I put in a request for Lucy MacLean x Wasteland!reader? you both find shelter and you usually take first watch because you’re used to staying up late. Except Lucy has a habit of making your job harder than it has to be because she just starts yapping and won’t go to sleep right away. Take yesterday night for example, you underestimated her ability to run out of things to talk to you about and you lost about 2-3 hours of sleep because of it. Tonight, Lucy’s about 15 minutes into her yap session when you randomly ask her if she wants to have sex, she’s delighted at the idea and agrees. You wanna tire this woman out, what’s a more efficient method than giving her a few orgasms? (maybe even include this being Lucy’s first time being eaten out?)

── GUILTY PLEASURE

— summary: lucy won’t stop talking.

— warnings: kind of inexperienced!lucy. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni. this took me a month to edit but here we are.

the shelter you’d stumbled upon earlier isn’t much. it’s hardly anything at all: half a roof, crumbling walls, and a faint musty smell.

still, it seemed better than sleeping under the open sky where god knows what could catch you off guard. so, you decide to settle yourself near the door, leaning against the wall with your weapon in easy reach. first watch, as always.

and, as always, lucy is making it harder than it needs to be.

she’s sprawled on her bedroll a few feet away, her head propped on her pack like a makeshift pillow. the dim glow of the dying embers between you throws flickering shadows across her face, as she talks.

“-and, i mean, who even puts that much trust in a filtration system, you know?” she says, her tone exasperated. “it’s like, sure, the overseers say it’ll last forever, but what happens when the pipes get clogged? no backup system, no-“

you pinch the bridge of your nose, cutting her off before she can spiral any further into whatever story she’s telling you from her life in vault 33. “lucy-“

“what?”

“i thought we agreed you’d try to sleep during my watch!”

“we did,” she says, shifting to rest on her elbows now . never a good sign. “but you’re awake anyway, so it’s not like i’m interrupting anything. besides, you’re terrible at keeping yourself entertained. i’m doing you a favor!”

you give her a flat look. “i don’t need ‘to be entertained’. i need quiet!”

lucy scoffs. “quiet seems overrated. besides, what if something sneaks up on you? you’ll want me awake to watch your back.”

“that’s literally my job right now,” you deadpan, gesturing toward what once was a door.

“okay, fair,” she says with a shrug. “but what if you fall asleep? then we’re both screwed!”

you let your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud, staring at the cracked ceiling. “lucy, if i fall asleep, it’ll be because you spent all night talking about pipes and filtration systems instead of letting me do my job and i’ve bored myself to death!”

“i’m just saying, vault-tec could’ve planned better” lucy goes on after a short pause, like you’ve never asked her to stop at all. “like, one person on maintenance for an entire level? no wonder the water tasted weird that day!”

this has been your dynamic ever since you met her: lucy talking your ear off, filling the silence with anything and everything that comes to her mind.

“do you ever stop?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at her.

“not really,” lucy says, grinning. “another thing,” she leans forward slightly. “i get why you’re all about this ‘quiet’ thing, but maybe you’d actually enjoy these little watch shifts if you talked more. or, you know, let me help you stay awake!”

you scoff. “help me stay awake?”

“yeah,” she says. “like conversations, or games, or- i don’t know, literally anything but sitting there staring into the darkness like some broody protagonist in a bad holotape!”

“you’re unbelievable.” you laugh, despite yourself.

she beams, triumphant, and leans back again, her hands clasped behind her head. “you’re welcome.”

the wasteland beyond the door feels vast and empty, the moonlight barely illuminating the cracked ground and jagged ruins. you focus on the shadows, your grip tightening slightly on your rifle. lucy’s voice continues behind you, her words blending into the ambient hum of the night.

another ten minutes of this pass, your patience wearing thinner with every syllable; your initial plan to just wait for her to get sleepy doesn’t seem to be working.

“if i had been in charge of the vault party planning committee, there’s no way they would’ve run out that fast” she’s currently recalling. “it’s simple logistics. one crate for every-“

“lucy,” you interject, your voice flat.

“what?”

“are you ever going to go to sleep?”

“eventually,” she says with a shrug. “it’s not like i’m bothering you, right?”

you sigh, defeated. “you are absolutely bothering me,”

she ignores that completely, her tone turning thoughtful. “it’s kinda nice, though, isn’t it? i talk, you listen, we bond. i mean, sure, you don’t say much, but that’s probably because you’re so fascinated by what i have to say-“

“lucy…”

“-which i get! not everyone grew up in a vault, so my perspective is pretty-“

“lucy!”

she finally pauses. “yes?”

you turn fully, leaning your shoulder against the wall as you cross your arms. “do you want to have sex?”

the words hang in the air for a beat, and for once, lucy falls completely silent. you watch as her face cycles through surprise, confusion, and delight in rapid succession.

“wait, what?” she asks, already sitting up. “do i- are you serious?”

you shrug, trying to look nonchalant despite the heat creeping up your neck. “you’re not gonna sleep, and you’re definitely not gonna let me do my thing. i figure if i wear you out, i might actually get some peace and quiet tonight,”

lucy blinks at you, and then, once you’re fairly sure she will turn the insane offer down, she grins.

you‘ve thought about it before. not about sex, necessarily, but tamer things: you found yourself staring at lucy in the rare moments when she wasn’t chatting away, eyes studying her features whenever she hadn’t been looking your way. you thought about kissing her, too, about her body against yours and-

well, perhaps you had thought about sex with her.

you never figured out what vault dwellers like her learned about sex down there. only that, presumably, she does seem to know what you’re on about, judging by her enthusiasm.

“this is the best thing you’ve suggested so far,” she says, already tossing aside her blanket and crossing the small room to stand beside you.

lucy lingers above you for a moment, her eyes scanning over you as if weighing her next move. she takes her time. when she finally lowers herself into your lap, it’s with purpose, every movement measured. her weight presses into your thighs, grounding you in place, while her palms rest on your shoulders. lucy’s thumbs gently trace circles on your skin through your clothes as her eyes search yours.

to your surprise, you are the first to falter under her gaze, something lucy so clearly relishes. a satisfied glint flickers in her eyes just before her hands glide up, fingers curling around your jaw as she cups your face. without warning, she tilts your head back, guiding your gaze to hers again, brushing absently over the corner of your lips.

“don’t look away now,” she murmurs, a teasing rasp, her breath ghosting over your skin.

her thumb and forefinger catch your chin, holding it firmly as she hovers there, close, her lips parting ever so slightly as if to speak.

just when you think you can’t stand it any longer, lucy finally leans in.

her lips meet yours, soft at first, almost tentative, like she's waiting for some kind of reaction. she grazes the sides of your face, memorizing the feel of you beneath her touch. the kiss deepens quickly, the tension from earlier bleeding away into something much softer, more urgent.

her confidence only falters when she first tries to grind down against your pelvis, searching for a friction you cannot provide. you’re not sure what she had expected, or if she’s moving on instinct, but this is when it seems to sink in that lucy is in no position to fully take the lead here.

“are you a virgin?” you blurt at her puzzled expression.

“no!” lucy says, shaking her head. “no, it’s not- i got married remember…?” she grimaces, recalling the events that had followed her rather short lived ‘marriage’ in vault 33.

“okay, so…” you start. “what’s going on here, then?”

“i-” her gaze flicks between you and some point over your shoulder. her cheeks flush. “i just- well, you know, it’s not that different, right?”

“lucy…” your voice softens, even as you fight back a laugh. “do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“yes!” she says immediately, too quickly. then she hesitates. “well…sort of?”

you give her a look, and her face crumples into a sheepish grimace.“okay, fine, no,” lucy admits, throwing her hands up in defeat. “but i wasn’t going to say that out loud! i thought i could just…figure it out as we went.”

you sigh, though there’s no real annoyance in it. “you’ve been with someone before. why didn’t you-”

“because it’s different!” she interrupts, her voice rising again. “i mean, for one thing, he wasn’t…” she waves her hand vaguely in your direction, her words trailing off like she’s afraid to finish the thought.

“a woman?” you supply.

“yes, exactly,” lucy nods. then, as if to clarify: “not that that’s bad! it’s just- i don’t really know what i’m supposed to- how i’m supposed to…” her voice fades again, and she presses her lips together, clearly frustrated with herself.

“lucy,” you say gently, drawing her attention back to you. “it’s not something you’re supposed to just know. especially if…” you pause, hesitant to touch on something that might sting. “especially if it wasn’t…encouraged where you grew up,”

she frowns, her brows pulling together. “yeah, well, vault 33 wasn’t exactly a…bastion of sexual enlightenment! marriage, reproduction, carrying on the bloodline…i suppose it was always about the next generation, never about- this!”

lucy sighs.

“and, look,” her words come in a rush now, like she’s determined to explain everything before you can judge her. “it’s not like i have a problem with it! i mean, clearly, i don’t, because we’re, uh, doing…whatever this is. i just…i guess i thought it’d be easier to figure out!”

you reach up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. all your previous annoyance has melted away, replaced by a need to show her that this -sex- could be about so much more than just reproduction. “you don’t have to figure it out all at once, you know. we’ve got time!”

lucy’s gaze meets yours, hesitant but hopeful. “we do?”

“yeah,” you say softly, your fingers lingering against her cheek. “you don’t have to take the lead here, either. just…trust me, okay?”

“okay,” she says quietly. “okay, i trust you,”

“good,” you lean up, brushing your lips against hers, slow and careful. her shoulders relax immediately, and when she kisses you back, it’s sweeter than before: less frantic, more curious, like she’s letting herself feel everything for the first time.

you kiss her slowly at first, moving your lips in sync with lucy’s. she’s following your lead now, letting you set the pace of your mouths. she still seems as eager though, and when she starts moving her hips again, you’re prepared:

instead of your pelvis, you maneuver her so that she’s grinding on your thigh, finally giving her access to the friction she’d been searching for.

“o-oh-“ lucy mewls softly, her head lulling back as she ruts against you for a little while. you can feel the warmth radiating from between her legs already, damp through the fabric of her suit.

taking it off will be a risk, of course: stripping naked would make a quick escape damn near impossible. but you decide that, as you feel her arousal drag over your leg, lucy maclean is worth every risky decision that might come with it.

so, as she moves against you, as high-pitched moans start spilling from her throat, you reach for the zipper of the blue suit. it parts smoothly, the soft scraping of the interlocking metal echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

you look up at lucy, only vaguely aware of the white bralette that comes into view now that you’re unzipping her clothes.

you don’t want to make her uncomfortable by blatantly staring but the skin that’s revealed to you makes it impossibly hard. so, instead, you choose another way to show off your appreciation: without tearing your eyes from hers, you lean in and press your mouth to the flesh between her collarbones, then move lower.

lucy gasps, her lips parted and her brows slightly furrowed. it’s her who peels the sleeves of her jumpsuit from her arms, who lets it pool by her hips and reaches for you all over again. who urges you closer by the back of your head with one hand, while the other grabs the hem of her underwear.

“wow,” you gasp, dumbfounded when lucy -your lucy- tugs the bra upwards enough to free her bare chest from the restrictive fabric. she smiles, shyly, and tilts her head.

her nails sink into your shoulder the second your mouth closes around her nipple; she’s responsive there, more than you ever were, more than you thought she’d be. so responsive that lucy starts moving her hips more frantic when you roll her other nipple between your index and thumb.

and still…”more,” she whines softly, greedily, dragging her soaked center across your flexed muscle. “i want you to touch me,” she breathes. “please”

you trail slow, open mouthed kisses down her torso, your hands gliding over the curve of her back. you press lower, as far as you can reach, until your neck twists at an almost painful angle and lucy's hand finds the back of your head, cradling it gently.

that’s when you shift, moving her body so she’s leaning against the wall and you’re positioned between her spread legs.

lucy watches you through curious eyes, studying your every move as you get to kiss down her body more comfortably. you hold the eye contact, despite the need to stare at her chest (her nipples still hard and wet with your spit) until you have to pull the zipper lower and peel the fabric from her legs.

you slide it off and tuck it beneath her, allowing lucy to rest on it rather than the dirty floor, leaving her in a pair of panties matching the white bralette.

lucy’s body shudders as you kiss back up the expanse of her legs, the muscles in her thighs tensing. obviously, you don’t stop there: you crawl up further and further until you’re almost at the apex, reaching for the waistline of the underwear and-

her legs clamp together suddenly, forcing you back.

“what-“ lucy stammers, unsure. “what are you doing?”

“i was gonna-“ you lick your lips, dropping your hands to her hips. of course lucy has no idea what you were going to do. ��can i-“ you consider your words, unsure how to explain it so she’ll understand. “-put my mouth there?”

lucy’s eyes widen. “you want to-”

“please,” you whisper. “please, can i eat you out?”

lucy -her own want betraying her- whines, her hips jerking towards your mouth. from here, between her legs, you can see the wet patch of arousal that has soaked through her underwear.

“okay,” she pants, nodding frantically. “okay, yes. please!”

immediately, you reach out, hook your fingers underneath them and pull the panties down her thighs. you take your time making sure to securely place them in one of the suit’s pockets so they won’t get dirty, before finally turning your gaze back to lucy, who’s waiting in anticipation.

she lets you take in the sight with a nervous look on her face, biting the side of her index.

your fingertips absentmindedly trace the skin, watching the way lucy’s body parts for you. she is beautiful, endlessly beautiful, glistening with arousal, and framed by coarse hair.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve-“ she begins, but you immediately hush her.

“you’re beautiful,”

lucy inhales breathlessly, her fingers forming a v-shape and spreading herself open for you to see.

“fuck-“ you mutter under your breath. lucy’s clit is throbbing.

slowly, you make your way up her thigh. in response, lucy buries her fingers in your hair, sighs softly as she invites you in, and spreads her legs wider.

you nudge her skin with your nose, nipping on the tender flesh.

the first time you put your mouth on lucy, her legs close around your head. her jaw goes slack and her brows furrow in concentration, adjusting to the new sensation.

you start with featherlight kisses to her swollen clit, each making her buck her hips against your face.

“o-oh!” lucy stammers from above, looking almost confused, surprised by how good your lips feel as they brush over her. “that feels so good,” she breathes finally, her body rolling down against your tongue.

“yeah?” you murmur, soothingly wrapping your arms around her thighs to hold her open as you circle her clit with the tip of your tongue.

“mhm,” lucy nods, but it comes out more like a whine at a particular good press of your lips. just as lucy buries her fingers in your hair, seemingly wanting to push you closer, you push her apart and lick a broad stroke right through her, getting your first actual taste.

instinctively, your eyes roll back, the lewd moan that rips from your throat drowned out by her skin.

“g-god-“ she stutters. “that’s- ah- good.”

unbeknownst to lucy, the sweet praise goes straight to your center. if you had a pillow, or anything useful around, you’d shove it between your legs and grind on it while you eat her out.

but, regardless of your own lack of relief, her words encourage you to lick deeper, to move faster inside of her and show her all that she’s been missing out on. you alternate between fucking your tongue into her, and wrapping your lips around her clit to suck on it, all while lucy pulls your closer, guiding your tongue to where she needs it the most.

you gladly let her, ignoring the occasional sting of your scalp at sharper tugs.

for a while, you eat lucy out like that, getting lost in each of her desperate attempts to stifle her sighs and her taste in your mouth. her words have morphed into muffled babbles above you, incoherent sounds of pleasure.

it doesn’t take long at all until she is getting closer: her head has lulled back against her bag, her moans come out more ragged and breathless, and the leg she has thrown over your shoulder trembles with tension as she pushes her heel down on your spine to urge you closer.

instead of teasing lucy, you go right for it.

your lips close around her clit again, just as two of your fingers sink into her. squirming above you, lucy mindlessly grinds her hips to your face, aching for that release. she chants little ‘ah, ah, ah’ sounds, her cunt tightening around your fingers so much it’s hard for you to thrust them in and out of her.

both your nose and your chin are covered in lucy’s wetness, glistening in the dimly lit space as her hands curl to fists in your hair.

“i feel…” she begins, trailing off. you’re not sure she knows what she’s feeling. or maybe she’s in disbelief because you only have your hands and mouth to use on her and still it’s enough.

either way, you encourage her, putting your thumb in place of your lips, rubbing her clit with the wet pad of your finger to keep her on the edge. “that’s it,” you mumble.

lucy chokes on her noise of approval and just nods her head instead. “yes,” she whispers, over and over, like a prayer. “yes, yes, yes! i’m gonna-“

that’s all of a warning you get before her whole body tenses. her lips are parted in a silent scream, her hips jerk forward once more before it all comes crashing down on lucy. the sound she makes is somewhat between a cry and a moan of your name and she arches her back from the ground when she cums.

you manage to tear your gaze away from her convulsing cunt to catch a glimpse of her, so lost in the haze of her pleasure: lucy’s eyes are shut tightly, her head thrown back so much that the entire expanse of her neck is on display for you.

her walls tighten around your fingers, trying to suck you in deeper, to keep you in place while she trembles with the force of the orgasm she’s riding out on you.

only when her body has stopped shaking, you lean back, not wanting to push her too far. she’s already given you more than enough.

“phew,” lucy says once she’s caught her breath. it’s so ridiculously lucy you have to bite back a laugh. “is it- is it always like this?” she asks by the time you’ve crawled back up her body and slumped down by her side.

you reach for her, not even thinking about it properly until you’re already cradling her face, your thumb grazing over her jaw soothingly. lucy doesn’t seem to mind.

“no,” you manage quietly, taking in her features in the dark. “no, it’s never been like this.”

luct turns her head to look at you, her expression open. she’s still flushed, her hair mussed, her lips kiss-swollen, and she’s smiling.

“i liked it,” she says, voice hushed. then, as if realizing how simple that sounds, she rushes to clarify: “not just because of- well, you know…but because it was you!”

you swallow hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. “yeah?”

lucy nods, shifting so she’s curled against your side, her fingers idly tracing patterns against your arm. “yeah.” a beat passes, then: “i think i wanna do that again. like…a lot.”

you laugh outright at that, tilting your head to press a kiss to her temple. “you really are something else, maclean.”

she hums, pleased, before shifting closer, tucking herself against you like she belongs there. you don’t realize how quiet it’s gotten until lucy is fast asleep in your arms.

[kitkat13001]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⤷ eijirou kirishima x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, kiri implied to be taller than reader, inspired the song “look after you” by the fray

compassion is second nature to eijirou kirishima. he’s always willing to lend a helping hand, no protest and no questions asked. 

he’s the ‘bro’ friend, the big-brother of the group standing over you all like a shield. they don’t call him the sturdy hero for nothing. 

he’s saved your life plenty of times, common in your line of work. but most often the things kirishima saves you from aren’t as big as falling buildings or supervillains. 

he always carries an extra hoodie for you in case you get cold. he makes sure everyone drinks water on the weekend group hikes. he always, always offers to share his snacks and insists even when you refuse. 

he texts you to make sure you got home safe, even when he’s the one who drove or walked you. 

for god’s sake, this is the man that sprinted two blocks to a corner store to buy tweezers when you got a splinter one time a few years ago. 

you wonder sometimes how a heart as big as his even fits in his broad chest. 

every other weekend bakugou insists on dragging everyone out for a hike because he can’t catch up with you all over dinner like a normal person and needs to do something active. 

today’s hike had taken longer than you’d originally thought. bakugou got a little too ambitious with his destination, and then mina and denki had wandered off the trail, and then sero twisted his ankle chasing after them. 

it’s nighttime now, and everyone’s been dropped off. you’re the last stop, sitting in the passenger seat of eijirou’s car and wondering how long you can linger without it being weird. 

you sigh after a long moment of sitting in peaceful silence with the faint radio music, finally moving to get out of the car. 

“night, kiri,” you say in the voice of someone who really doesn’t want to say goodnight. 

he moves when you move, clambering out of the drivers seat with a little smile. “i’ll walk you up.”

you stop, meeting his big crimson eyes. “it’s a ten foot walk to the door.”

“yeah.”

“you could just watch me from here, y’know?”

he shrugs, coming around to your side of the car. “‘s no big deal.”

you can feel the warmth coming off his body from when he’s standing next to you. you’re staring up at him curiously, and he blinks down at you. 

“i can see your breath,” he chuckles, taking his scarf off and wrapping it around you loosely while you stand there, stunned. his hands linger on the fabric, warm on your shoulders as he beams down at you. 

“eiji, don’t you ever get tired of looking after everyone?” you ask after a minute, walking up to the door at his side. 

kirishima hums thoughtfully, thinking on it for a second. “i mean, maybe sometimes i guess? but not really, ‘cause i look after the people i care about. so it’s not really work for me, y’know?”

“but don’t you ever want someone to look after you?” you’re at the door now, but you don’t want to go inside just yet. 

“you do,” he replies with a little smile, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you blink, stunned by the revelation.

“you always check up on me. text me good morning and good night. make sure i rest when i’ve been working too hard. carpool front seat so i don’t have to drive alone in the night.” he’s ticking them off on his fingers, an indescribable fondness in his voice. “and besides,” he adds cheerfully, “seeing you happy always has me feeling brand-new.”

you stare up at him with big, soft eyes. “kirishima, i love you.”

he laughs bashfully, scratching at his neck. “yeah, man, i love you too.”

“no, eiji, like i love you.”

he looks at you, meeting your loving gaze. his cheeks darken, and he looks almost nervous. “you…you do?”

you don’t dignify him with a spoken answer. you try to put any words you might’ve strung together into the kiss you pull him in for, clutching at his jacket to bring him down. 

he almost gasps into your mouth, but after a moment he’s cradling your face in big, careful hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. 

he’s grinning when you pull away, eyes like melting rubies. “i love you, too. but i think maybe you knew that already.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/anitalenia — one hug from kirishima could fix all my problems. no further comments.

[koyagifs]

𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓪

pairing: san x reader au: hogwarts | lovers to strangers genre: angst word count: 1.6k synopsis: amortentia: The most powerful love potion in existence. Smelling different to each person according to what they find attractive, the potion was considered to be dangerous as it could induce obsessive infatuation in the unsuspecting drinker... warning(s): angst w/ no comfort, cursing, fighting, toxic relationship part one: the aftermath

The sound of the bustling Hogwarts courtyard felt distant, almost like a dream, as you lay cradled on San's lap. His presence was a shield against the storm of emotions threatening to overtake you. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel his gentle concern, his voice a soft melody grounding you.

But the memories wouldn’t let you rest.

"Stay away from the filth!" your mother’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp and unforgiving.

You could almost see the way her hand slammed onto the kitchen table, the reverberation of her fury making you flinch, just as it had then. Your house elf had frozen in the corner, wide eyes filled with pity.

"He’s not filth!" you had snapped, your voice shaking with defiance. "If you ever thought of being nice to him—"

"Ruin our bloodline?" your father had cut in, his sneer colder than the dungeons. "Don’t be ridiculous, Yn. You’re the future of our house. This nonsense will stop."

You’d stared at them, fire in your chest, but it had been the words you screamed next that echoed loudest now:

"San loves me! Something you two fail to do as parents!"

“Yn?”

Your eyes fluttered open, one at first, then the other. San was looking down at you, his brows knitted in concern, his dark eyes searching yours. "You okay, love?"

You let out a soft hum, leaning into the hand that pushed a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was featherlight, his warmth chasing away the cold remnants of your memory.

“Things are changing…” he started, his voice quiet but heavy. “Rumors of Potter—”

“Let’s not do this today, Sannie,” you interrupted yourself, shaking your head lightly. “I just want to enjoy us.”

San hesitated for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in, before a small, understanding smile tugged at his lips. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against yours, a silent promise of support and love.

“Alright,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Just us.”

You and San stood shoulder to shoulder at your shared station in Potions, the hum of conversation in the classroom fading as Professor Slughorn began explaining the day’s lesson. The room was filled with the usual cacophony of bubbling cauldrons and the faint clinking of glass vials, but it was San’s scent—clean, warm, with a faint hint of something woody—that wrapped around you, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

It wasn’t overpowering, but it was enough to make your heart race, grounding you in his presence even as Slughorn’s voice droned on about the properties of Amortentia and its effects.

“Amortentia, as you may know, is the most powerful love potion in existence…” Slughorn’s jovial tone floated through the room. “It’s identifiable by its mother-of-pearl sheen and spiraling steam. Most intriguingly, it smells different to each person, depending on what attracts them.”

The professor’s words only made things worse. Your mind raced as you tried to ignore the very real possibility that the intoxicating scent filling the air wasn’t just San—it was because of San. You glanced sideways at him, catching the way his dark hair fell into his eyes as he leaned over the ingredients list on the parchment between you. He was so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him, and it was impossible not to wonder if he could sense how flustered you were.

“You okay?” San murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His dark eyes flicked to yours, concern laced in them, and you realized you’d been clutching the edge of the table just a bit too tightly.

“You okay?” San murmured, his voice soft and just for you, a quiet thread of concern laced in his tone. His dark eyes flicked to yours, the warmth in them grounding, though it only made the heat rising in your cheeks worse.

You realized, with a pang of embarrassment, that you’d been clutching the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles had turned white. Quickly, you released it, flexing your fingers awkwardly.

You hummed, clearing your throat in a desperate attempt to compose yourself. “Yeah, just fine,” you mumbled, your voice quieter than intended and definitely not as convincing as you’d hoped.

San tilted his head slightly, studying you with that unreadable look he always gave when he knew you were holding something back. His lips quirked into a small smile, playful but kind. “You sure? You look like you just saw a grindylow.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. “I’m fine,” you repeated, a little more firmly this time, trying to sound as normal as possible.

San didn’t push further, but the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. Instead, he turned back to the cauldron, his hands moving deftly as he added ingredients to the simmering potion.

The tension in the room was palpable as San’s frustration boiled over. His dark eyes bore into yours, his voice low but trembling with emotion. "Why don’t you just let me go over and stay with you, Yn? You always refuse it and shut me out," he said, his words laced with hurt and exasperation.

You felt your own frustration flare at his persistence. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms tightly over your chest like it could shield you from the weight of his words. "What’s so important about visiting my family, San?" you snapped, your voice rising. "This isn’t some fairy tale! This is just puppy love! It’s not like we’re going to live happily ever after!"

The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, but you couldn’t stop now. Your chest heaved as you gestured wildly, your emotions spilling over. "We’re in the middle of a fucking war, San! People are dying every day! Who even knows if we’ll make it out alive?"

The room seemed to fall silent after your outburst, the weight of your words settling between you like a storm cloud. San’s expression shifted from frustration to something else—something deeper, a mix of pain and determination that made your stomach churn.

“Is that what you really think?” he asked softly, the intensity in his voice slicing through the air. “That this is just some fleeting crush? That I don’t mean it when I say I love you?”

You gulped, looking away, your resolve faltering under his gaze. “San…”

“No,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his voice rising ever so slightly. “I get it. The war, your family—it’s all complicated. But don’t you dare act like what we have doesn’t matter just because you’re scared.”

You froze, his words slicing through the fear and anger that had been swirling in your chest like a storm. He wasn’t wrong, but the walls you’d built around yourself felt like the only protection you had. Admitting the truth meant exposing too much, risking too much.

San’s voice broke the silence, louder and more desperate this time. "You’re hiding something from me, Yn, and I want to know why," he cried out, his frustration and hurt spilling over.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away from him as though you could somehow avoid the intensity of his gaze. "I’m not hiding anything," you said flatly, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Don’t lie to me,” San snapped, stepping closer. His hand reached out to grasp your arm gently, his touch firm but not forceful. “You’ve been shutting me out for weeks. You barely talk about your family, and every time I try to get closer, you push me away. I just want to help, Yn—why won’t you let me?”

You pulled your arm free, taking a step back, the weight of his concern almost too much to bear. “Because you can’t help me, San!” you yelled, your voice breaking.

San scoffed, a sharp sound that cut through the tension like a knife. "I can't, or you just won’t let me?" he challenged, his eyes darkening with frustration.

The words stung more than you expected. You opened your mouth, but no response came at first—just the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears, the fear and anger colliding inside of you. He was right in a way, but you couldn't bring yourself to admit it. You wanted to protect him from the weight of your world, even if that meant keeping him at arm’s length.

The words hit you like a physical blow. You stood there, frozen in place, as the room seemed to close in around you. The pounding of your heart, the rush of blood in your ears, all drowned out by the finality in San’s voice.

“You know what, Yn? Since this is just ‘puppy love,’ let’s end it now.”

Your chest tightened as he grabbed his bag, the motion sharp and deliberate, like he was already stepping out of your life. His words—puppy love—cut deeper than anything else. You wanted to shout, to stop him, but the knot in your throat wouldn’t let you. He was walking away.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the quiet common room, each step more distant than the last, until they faded completely. You stood there, rooted to the spot, struggling to breathe, the weight of his words crashing down on you.

You knew what he was doing. It was his way of hurting you back, of showing you how much he was wounded. But it didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it worse.

The anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface suddenly shifted to something far more painful: regret.

Why had you said it? Why had you pushed him away, when all he ever wanted was to stand by you, to be there through it all? You wiped the back of your hand across your eyes, hoping the tears would stay hidden. You didn’t deserve him, not after all of this.

But the silence that followed felt suffocating, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you were completely, utterly alone.

[365emotionlessfaces]

This is going to be a 10 part fic 🙃 I wrote it for entirely selfish reasons, but if you guys enjoy it, even better.

Melissa meets a girl at The Aspiring Teachers Program, but she’s just a kid. Many years later, she meets you and wonders if she should let go of the past.

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 1 WC~1.5k

Melissa was thirty-five and going through a nasty divorce from a nasty man. She had been in the teaching game for a decade now, and the last thing she wanted to do was volunteer for some Aspiring Teachers Program. Well, second to last. The redhead supposed that the only thing worse would be to be spending the week in the same house as Joe.

When she had told her friend, Barbara from work, the woman had just laughed and said that she had quit going to those things years ago. Too much hullabaloo for her liking. But Melissa needed out of the house, so she decided this would be the first and the last time she signed up for this stupid program.

The end of the school year came faster than Melissa would have liked, and by the second day of summer break, her suitcase was packed and she was on a flight to Chicago, of all places. The stupid program chose a new city and a different mix of teachers every year, so there was no guarantee you’d get an invite. To Melissa, that didn’t sound like too bad a deal. Yeah, sure, she’d have to be around a bunch of eighteen to twenty year olds, answer their questions, try to get them interested in teaching, and she was definitely not thrilled about that, but it beat what was waiting at home. Plus, it was all expenses paid.

When Melissa’s taxi pulled up to the camp, the literal camp, she started to think maybe she shouldn’t have come. It was very… rustic. Looking around, she realized that this thing was a lot bigger than she had anticipated. There must be at least a hundred people walking around. She noted the woman with the bullhorn seemed to have a sense of calm in the chaos that looked to be surrounding her. As Melissa exited the taxi, the bullhorn lady could be heard calling out names and assigning them to cabins. She rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long week.

As she stood amongst the crowd, but far enough back that she had a healthy amount of personal space, she listened for her name. A girl hollering off to her left made her turn her head to see the hubbub.

“Yo, Tie-Dye Girl. A little help here!” A young girl of probably twenty or so, stood in front of a giant pile of duffel bags and suitcases and waved to a woman in her forties wearing a campy tie-dyed shirt, who promptly turned on her heel and came to the girl's rescue. Melissa rolled her eyes.

“It’s giving Parent Trap,” a voice from Melissa’s right jolted her away from the tie-dye scene and to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed teenager that stood beside her. The shock of the girl being so close startled Melissa so much, she let out a small yelp.

“What the hell are ya doin’, kid?” Melissa snapped. “I coulda killed ya.” The girl was not affected by Melissa’s harshness, or if she was, she certainly didn’t show it. In fact, Melissa was sure she saw the girl’s grin grow wider before she replied.

“Sorry,” the girl was radiating happiness and cheer, and it was almost enough to make Melissa sick. “You were standing here all alone, so I thought I’d make a friend.” The girl’s smile was so bright and strong, Melissa wondered if the girl ever stopped smiling. “It just reminds me of a movie from when I was a little girl.”

“You’re still a little girl.”

“I’m young, sure, but I’m almost twenty,” Melissa huffed at the girl’s response. Her smile still hadn’t faltered.

“Listen, I’m not a good friend, okay? So why don’t ya go make friends with those guys over there?” The redhead pointed randomly in the crowd, hoping the young girl would get the hint and leave her the hell alone. She wanted to enjoy this week as much as she could, and having a thorn in her side would not make that task easy.

After the young girl kept trying to make conversation, and had gone so far as to introduce herself, Melissa felt obligated to at least give the kid a name.

“Em,” she had told her. When the girl asked for her full name, or even her last name, Melissa joked with her. “What are you? The cops? If you’re the cops, you gotta tell me!” The young girl laughed and seemed to leave the matter alone after that.

Melissa had gone to the restroom, and when she returned to her bags, the young girl and her bags had gone. She took that as a small blessing and continued to listen for her name. Once given her cabin, she trudged her way to it, bags trailing along with her. She pushed through the cabin door, looked around the room, and thanked her lucky stars that the remaining bed free of luggage was the bottom of one of the two bunk beds. She’d be damned if she had to climb a freakin’ ladder to get to bed!

She unpacked the clothes and most of things she brought, and headed to the mess hall where the first meeting would be held. This would be where Teacher Buddies would be assigned and Melissa got to find out who she’d be spending the next two weeks with. Melissa was considered a Veteran Teacher, despite the fact that she was only in her mid thirties. She supposed it was due to the fact that the older teachers knew better than to come to these things. Since she was of the higher rank, she would be assigned to an Aspiring Teacher. One of these fresh-faced little things that had their whole lives ahead of them, and they wanted to teach. Poor things.

When she entered the hall, it was all abuzz. It was worse than the cafeteria at her elementary school the day after Halloween. There were grown adults and young adults laughing and yelling happily alike. Despite all the noise, Melissa thought it was kinda nice to see a room full of happy faces. Even if she knew most of them wouldn’t last. She looked around and found a few faces that looked like they wouldn’t be too much trouble for the next week. She hoped that she got one of them.

She was approached by the bullhorn lady, only this time she didn’t have the bullhorn, and was told that as a Veteran Teacher, she would go up on the stage with the other Veterans and draw the name of their Aspiring Teacher. This idea was not as thrilling to Melissa as Bullhorn Lady was trying to make it seem, but she did it anyway. When it was her turn, and she pulled out the name that young girl from earlier had given her, she considered making up a fake name, and pretending that her Aspiring Teacher hadn’t shown up. Unfortunately, before she could enact that plan, Bullhorn Lady took the paper and read the young girl’s name out loud. There was clapping and hooting, and then there the girl was again.

She and Melissa made their way to a table in the back and sat down. Melissa looked at the girl as she made some comments about not believing in fate or destiny and some bullcrap about coincidences, and the redhead wondered why the girl would tell her something like that. The girl had that damn smile, still, and her eyes were… kinda shiny. Melissa wondered if she had been that beautiful when she was younger. Surely not, or she wouldn’t currently be going through a divorce.

“So, whattaya think?” The young girl asked, making Melissa snap back to reality.

“Sorry, Parent Trap. I wasn’t listenin’. Whadja say?” This time when the girl smiled, there was something else to it. The redhead noticed the difference, but couldn’t quite tell what it meant. Melissa had to work to focus on what she was saying instead of getting lost in her thoughts again.

“I was thinking that you could hit me with the worst of it first. Tell me all the horror stories about teaching, so I can steel myself for them now, ya know? And then if I can make it through those, maybe you can tell me why it’s worth it?”

Those plans were foiled before Melissa could be the one to break the girl’s heart. Bullhorn Lady announced that the week would be a series of competitions and games for the Buddies, and the free time at the end of the nights would be dedicated to asking and answering all the questions the Aspiring Teachers had. Melissa groaned. This is not what she thought this week would look like.

When she returned to her cabin after everyone was released from the mess hall, Melissa was surprised to see that not only was the young girl her Buddy, she was also one of her three roommates. ‘Oh, boy. This just keeps getting better.’ She decided that it was in her best interest to mind her business, and only talk to the girl when necessary. So she grabbed her pajamas, and changed in the tiny bathroom provided in the corner of the only slightly larger cabin. The air was warm for Chicago, which made Melissa very glad that she chose the outfits she did. When she returned to her bed in her light pink silk tank top and matching shorts, she was too focused on minding her own business that she didn’t notice the young girl’s eyes glued to her frame or how flushed the girl’s face had become.

Part Two

[bomber-grl]

Well… Maybe Not Like The Greeks

Pairing(s): Octavian x Gn!Roman Demigod!Reader

Synopsis: Octavian has gone too far and there’s only so much rose tinted glasses can do to obscure your vision. You finally make a decision.

Word Count: 1,275

-

Octavian was beyond help, that much you reluctantly accepted. You loved him, you did, and you knew he reciprocated that love with what might be considered a little obsessive devotion. But you couldn’t deny it any longer: He needed to be stopped.

It was a wonder that you had managed to sneak out of camp, and by extension New Rome, with how uptight the shifts had been lately. You knew if you were found out, Octavian would be beyond pissed, but might as well. The tension around camp was thick with the promise of war, and he was beyond reasoning. No amount of your words—pleas, arguments, even logic—had broken through that thick skull of his. He was set on wiping out Camp Half-Blood before they could strike first, and nothing seemed to be able to change that. The other residents had been suspiciously quiet, almost like a storm waiting to break.

The quiet was eerie, suffocating almost, like a fire waiting to catch. You’d seen the way Octavian had been slipping further into his paranoia, clutching at his visions as though they were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. You could barely recognize him now—he wasn’t the same person that looked forward to seeing you, who tried to win you over with sarcasm. No, now he was a monster through and through, eyes cold, and dead set on bringing about the end of what he deemed a “threat.”

But he was losing his grip on everything, even you. You couldn’t stand by anymore. Something had to give.

You slipped into the night like a shadow, moving quickly and quietly, your breath ragged but steady as you pushed through the outskirts of the camp. You were so close to the borders of New Rome, so close to freedom, when the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the dark made you freeze.

“You think you can leave without me knowing?”

You froze, heart slamming against your ribs. There was no mistaking the voice—the cold, almost chilling tone that sent a shiver straight down your spine. It was him.

“Octavian—” You tried to keep the surprise out of your voice, but it was hard. Damn him for being so perceptive.

His shadow loomed over you, the dim light of the moon illuminating his rigid form. His eyes gleamed with something darker than you had ever seen, his expression a mix of disappointment and... something far worse.

“I knew you wouldn’t understand, but you don’t get to run away from this.” His words were firm, clipped.

“I’m not running away,” you said, voice tight with frustration. “I’m trying to stop you before you make a mistake you’ll regret.”

Octavian didn’t even blink. His lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “A mistake? No, no, no. We can’t afford to be weak, not anymore. They’ll come for us. I’m doing what has to be done. And you, you of all people, should understand that.”

You had been hoping against hope that you could change his mind. But it seemed that hope had long since died in the fire of his resolve. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you roughly with him as he led you toward Apollo’s temple. You were beyond exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but there was no fighting him, not like this.

Inside the temple, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew thick, stifling almost, as if the walls themselves were heavy with the weight of centuries. A strange, almost haunting glow emanated from somewhere beyond sight, and the scent of incense mixed with something faintly sickly. The central altar was littered with old, weathered animal plushies—guts spilling from them, the stuffing leaking like blood from an open wound.

“I need you to understand, y/n,” Octavian’s voice broke through your thoughts. His gaze never left you as he took his place at the altar, his fingers running over the dismembered plushies like he was reading the signs. “This is the only way. I can see it... the future is clear.” His eyes glittered with something that felt far too close to madness. “We have to strike first. Before they wipe us out. Before they destroy everything we’ve worked for.”

“You’re insane,” you breathed, disgust curling in your stomach as you watched his form.

“No. I’m the only one who sees clearly.” His voice was sharp, rising as if he were speaking to an audience. “We’ll wipe out Camp Half-Blood before they even have the chance. We Romans have been at war with the Greeks for centuries—it’s always been this way. It’s always been Roman dominance or nothing.”

“You don’t know that,” you snapped, stepping forward despite the tight grip he had on you. “You’re so set on this vision of yours that you can’t see the truth right in front of you. They’re not all our enemies. You can’t just destroy everyone who doesn’t agree with you.”

His eyes flickered—first confusion, then something far darker. “You’re wrong.” His voice was barely a whisper now, the kind of quiet that made your blood run cold. “I have to do this. They’re dangerous, y/n. And you don’t understand how dangerous they are. They’ve always wanted to tear us apart.”

“You’re wrong.” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Some of the cohorts... they’re even saying you’re acting like a Greek– Achilles for God's sake. That you’re so obsessed with your vision of the future that you’re blind to anything else. You’re neglecting what could happen, the possible... what ifs, and you’re refusing to see it all because of something so petty”

The moment the words left your lips, everything went silent.

Octavian’s eyes went dark, darker than you had ever seen them. “What did you just say?” His voice was dangerously calm, the air between you thick with fury.

“Octavian, I didn’t mean—”

“You think I’m like that?” He spat, stepping toward you with a wild look in his eyes. “You think I’m like that Greek—that thing Achilles?”

You stepped back, your throat closing. You hadn’t meant to say it, not like that. You hadn’t meant to bring him to this point. But it was too late now.

“You really think you can just walk away from this? That you can leave me behind? You can’t leave. You belong here. And I’m going to show you that you’re wrong about everything. I’m not like Achilles. I will win this war. And if I have to burn everything down to prove it, I will.”

You let out a bitter laugh and turned on your heel, walking straight out of the temple. Octavian didn’t try to stop you, didn’t call after you. And in that silence, you knew exactly that he got the message: I’m done with you.

Another laugh almost escaped you, but it stuck in your throat. Traitor. By morning, that’s what they’d call you. You’d be the one who walked away, who betrayed him. But honestly, you didn’t care anymore.

You had made your choice. And so had he.

As you stepped into the cool night, the weight of everything felt heavy in your chest. The camp would talk, sure—there would be whispers, and accusations. But it didn’t matter. Octavian’s war wasn’t about protecting anyone, it was all about himself. And that wasn’t something you could stand by anymore. Not when it meant losing yourself in the process.

You walked farther away from New Rome, from him, and with each step, you felt a little lighter. It was over. No going back.

But no matter what came next, you weren’t going to let his madness pull you down with him.

[utopiastri]

okay so you Know i would eat up literally any single one of these with any pairing bcos you’re crazy stupid talented and literally create my favourite mini universes but if you are taking suggestions i would diee for your take on a galex timeloop so i respectfully beg for 2 for galex from the put that guy in a situoatiin list pls if u are inclined 🫡🫡🫡

-🦎

(ps i almost corrected my spelling but i thought it would help u figure out who it is lol)

i love you for thinking i wouldn't know who this was based off the request alone but PLEASE know the lizard emoji brought me such delight - i hope you enjoy some galex!!!

“I’ve lived this day before.”

Alex blinks at George. “What? What does that even mean?"

George huffs. “Have you ever seen the movie Groundhog Day?”

The first movie that comes to Alex’s mind when he thinks of groundhogs is the one with the singing troupe of chipmunks and he’s guessing George isn’t talking about that one.

“Uh…?”

George rolls his eyes. “Alex, are you kidding? Bill Murray? Andie MacDowell? It's a 90s classic.”

“Wait, wait, Bill Murray rings a bell…hang on. Is it that one where like, the guy gets trapped in a town and he keeps reliving the same day over and over again?”

“Yes,” George says emphatically.

“And that’s happening…”

“To me, yes.”

Alex frowns at him. “Hang on. Isn't this the thing where you're meant to know what I’m gonna say before I say it? Isn’t that how you prove you’re in a time loop?” George stays silent. “George?”

“So, possibly this is technically the first time I’ve told you that I’m in a time loop.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d believe me!” George suddenly narrows his eyes at him, “You…you don’t believe me, right? Like, you’re being sensible and not just taking me at my word, right?”

“I’m being sensible and not just taking you at your word,” Alex lies. Well, half-lies. He’s a little suspicious George is pranking him but…

Well.

He’d rather run the risk of looking like an idiot than refuse to help George on the off-chance he’s not talking complete and utter bullshit.

“Do you know what you need to do to stop the time loop?” Alex falters when George gives him a glare. “The time loop that is hypothetically happening because I am definitely not just believing you straight away with no proof because I would never do that.”

“Alex.”

“Do you want me to believe you or not, George? This feels like you’re fighting against something you want!”

George groans. “Fine, ok, believe me!”

“Wonderful. So.”

“So?”

“What do you need to do to get out of the time loop?”

George flushes pink.

“Um. Well. Based on the evidence I’ve collected–”

“George, please tell me the evidence is not just you watching Groundhog Day.”

“Based on the evidence I’ve collected,” George repeats, cheeks somehow going an even darker pink, “I need to fall in love with someone and get them to fall in love with me.”

Alex's stomach drops. He tries his best to keep his voice level as he says, “And do you…have someone…in mind?”

“Ah, I, um, so the problem is…”

“Come on, Georgie, spit it out.”

“I’m already in love with someone.”

Alex swallows. “Have you…have you been in the time loop that long? That you've fallen in love with someone already?”

“No! I’ve been in it for three days, I was just, I was in love with this person before the time loop.”

“So now you just need to get them to fall in love with you, right.” Alex takes a deep breath and pastes a smile on his face, “So, who’s the lucky person you've gotta win over?”

George looks pained. “It’s…um…” He takes a deep breath. “Fuck it, it’s a time loop, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Alex barely has a second to ponder what that could mean before George has placed his hands on either side of Alex’s face and pulled him into a soft kiss. Alex freezes and George seems to take that as rejection. He starts pulling backwards and Alex panics, managing to move his hands to George's neck and desperately try to keep him in place, to bring him back into the kiss.

After a moment, Alex pulls away but stays close enough to lean his forehead against George’s.

“George?”

“Hm,” he answers, a little dreamily.

“If this wasn’t enough to break the time loop, and you wake up tomorrow and the day has reset, and I don’t remember this, you’d better fucking kiss me again, got it?”

George smiles softly. “Got it,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Alex's once more.

[marvelstoriesepic]

been reading a lot of your whumpcember (as you can tell, i’ve liked almost them all), and i’ve got to say that your writing is borderline addictive. you frame your stories so well, emphasise key details to really make characters pop, to feel them a whole lot more. for example, the broken glass one, the dread i felt when the reader shattered the ornament, i physically felt my heart drop at the implications of ruining and undoing a potential relationship, you wrote it incredibly well.

i think my favourite may have been the broken glass or pirate one. i didn’t want the pirate one to end!! im a big angst fan, so i ate uppp the vengeance and revenge part. the backstory of bucky losing everything and hunting down the ones responsible, and even the ones that aren’t directly so, but someone who has value. i love that the reader is a pawn, meant to deal pain on a platter to their father like bucky had endured.

the open endedness is great, because i’ve already imagined more obviously. reader defiantly not responding to leers, jests or any torture, and very unphased by the lack of contact or things to do. they’ve sat in silence and the cold a hundred times as punishment, and a part of it unnerves bucky. he wants a reaction, can’t help but nurture his hate, lets it control him. the reader is terrified, but desperately trying to hide it, and bucky hates it, wants to see the fear as it is, not hidden.

so maybe he kills them, and when he does, it’s still not enough. maybe he doesn’t, and he discovers that maybe enjoying the company of the bastard who had involvement with killing his family is better. the reader’s father would go rigid at the image of bucky getting along with his child, because now they’re trapped in a different way. they’re too close, and when offered with an escape, the reader might stay in bucky’s claws, might stay with the wolf.

i’ve rambled, point it, your writing is so good that my imagination fed off of it. so that is something, keep writing, people will keep loving it, and daydreaming about it.

:)

I'm utterly baffled. Needed to collect my thoughts to reply to this, or I wouldn’t have managed to do so.

I love when people yap to me about something I've written but this is something else entirely and I genuinely don’t know how to deal with it.

First, let me say, I am so unimaginably grateful for your words and the enthusiasm with which you outlined how the fic could continue and what might unfold. Reading it and following your thoughts brought me immense joy. I never had someone ramble to me about my fics with this much passion and visualizing how things might go on and it touched my heart so deeply.

It continually amazes me that words can have such significant influence, because I am just overflowing with emotions right now and I hope you sense my appreciation at this moment.

I tend to depend heavily on reviews, comments, and feedback, despite the fact that I frequently try to remind myself that I do this for my own sake when things are getting a little tough.

However, there is nothing I can say to myself, no positive affirmations I can offer to boost my motivation and continue, that can match the impact of receiving a comment like this.

You just sent my spirits soaring high, love! ❤️

I would love to express my gratitude with anything but words right now, because I can’t seem to find any. Feel yourself kissed by me! Feel yourself hugged by me, please! I would definitely squeeze the life outta you.

I feel like I'll forever be indebted to you!

All my love and hugs and kisses and thank you's go out to you, you beautiful angel. 💖🙌🏻

I don’t know your name and didn’t see one in your profile but you’re my love now 🫶🏻💐

[seventh-district]

sighs and collapses and disintegrates into the wind

[binx0r]

Legit question: would it be weird to tell someone

“It makes me happy to know you exist”

Bc like… that’s a sentiment I feel a lot esp when I don’t have the ability to interact as much as I’d like to with people but I see them living their lives and it gives me deeply good feelings

Like regardless of whether we cross paths I know you well enough to appreciate you’re part of the universe and that fact brings me joy

Like is that inappropriate in any way?

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[earthtooz]

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[salemlunaa]

ᥫ᭡∘˚That extra push for pure consciousness ᥫ᭡∘˚

The secret to being victorious like those with the success stories…

∘˚ᥫ᭡PART I | THE VICTORIOUS

Now that it’s 2025 a lot of you have had enough, although time is a concept you’re a little mad at the fact that you didn’t induce pure consciousness last year and you’re NOT taking no for an answer this time around.

Now when we look at this community. Amidst the complaining and some negativity, there are so many success stories, those who were victorious.

Those who went to bed with a body they hated and woke up with their desired look. Those who went to bed in a one bedroom apartment and woke up in a mansion. Those who went to bed hating their family and friends and woke up with their desired relationships with their desired people. Those who went to bed with nothing to their name and woke up with a fat ass bank account.

Those who with their backs against the wall and their outer man experiencing the most treacherous of circumstances made it out of the trenches with one induction of pure consciousness.

You wanna know how to get there. Spoiler alert: you ARE there

∘˚ᥫ᭡ PART II | THE LINK BETWEEN THEM ALL

Before you will ever follow the path of being successful, you must realise what they all had in common.

They realise they that all this complaining was doing nothing for them. They decided that in that moment they had their dream life, no matter what they saw, they were a master at inducing pure consciousness. No matter what the 3D showed their outer man, their inner man was victorious.

No more reaffirming failures, no more revelling in the fact that they fell asleep while trying a few times. No more doomscrolling. No more looking at others success stories wondering when it was gonna be them when it could be them NOW.

They realised it was time for them to adopt a new mindset: That the state of pure consciousness is just first nature to them. That they are gods no matter what. That as god, the 3D and time doesn’t exist to them, nope! not real anymore. That circumstances weren’t a thing anymore. That the void state is the easiest thing a person can induce. That pressuring themselves for a timecrunch is pointless because their inner man doesn’t experience time and they get everything they want instantly. That pure consciousness is just a state consciousness that is something as effortless as being in the state of awake and the state of asleep.

It doesn’t take long to flip your thoughts. So many people with success stories have said so many times that if they knew how easy it all was, they would’ve done it sooner. Challenges are nice but you don’t need to spend weeks on them, never did never will.

∘˚ᥫ᭡ PART III | THE APPLICATION

Another thing they did was fucking apply. You’re tired of hearing that? great! because bloggers are SO tired of repeating it.

Yes failure and procrastination can be comforting. This is a great community, but don't stay here longer than you need to. And yes memes about how you "woke up in your cr again 🙄" and how little time you actually spend trying to shift awareness can be funny and relatable. But those who have success stories under their belts had to choose between comfort, relatability + aesthetically pleasing scripts and actually living their dream life. And to be victorious you must make that choice too.

So go do it, stop this dumbass belief that you are exempt from the success of inducing pure consciousness. Yes, you are the operant power and your reality relies on you and you alone, HOWEVER, if so many can do it, it's evidence that you can too. No more looking at those success stories for motivation or looking at them in jealousy when that can be you now.

To be victorious you must think like them. Believe you are successful and you will be. No you’re not “faking it till you make it” YOU ARE SUCCESSFUL. you ARE one of them.

Believe and assume like a victor and you will be one, the 3D will always conform. That’s law.

🍦🩰 To be victorious like the others, you must believe it now.

[chaepink]

Sub bully gojo like he was planning on fucking and bullying reader when the opposite went way? Like reader had enough of his bullshit and makes him cry and overstimulates him?

Loser | sub!gojo satoru

wc: 2.9k+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, mean!reader -> soft!reader, bully!gojo kinda but he’s more annoying then actually bullying, crying, footjob except he’s clothed, cumming in pants, college au, edging, comparing gojo to a puppy, degradation, praise, exhibitionism, overstimulation, knocking Gojo down a peg, teasing, cursing, mention of reader being shorter than gojo but not important, ooc gojo(?)

note : the writing may be weird… its been a while 😬

"Well well well, look who it is!" You grimace at the all too familiar voice and try to quickly turn the corner but a hand grabs your hand and turns you around, causing you to stumble back slightly but you catch yourself in time.

Furrowing your eyebrows and frowning in annoyance, you eye the person who stopped you: Gojo fucking Satoru. He’s the guy who’s been making your college life a living hell ever since he found out you two went to the same high school. Even though there were several other students here who also went to the same high school, he decided to annoy you for some reason.

The other students in the hallway quickly shuffle to their next classes or to lunch, too afraid to say something that’ll result in Gojo picking on them instead. Of course, they're scared, Gojo is known as a bully who somehow has good relationships with the teachers, an advantage he uses daily. The hallway is deserted now with only you two standing in. You hear the bell ring loudly throughout and your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. Damn it, you’re late to class now.

“Hey! Look at me, bitch.” You scowl deeply as your attention turns back to Gojo. You wonder if he’s aware of his childish personality or not. You assume he doesn’t by the way he continues to act like a toddler.

“What the hell do you want?” You reply, annoyance clear as day on your face. A grin spreads across his face when he sees your attention back on him. God, he loves the way you look at him like that. He quickly shoves the thought to the back of his head.

“In a bad mood today, huh?” He teases, that annoying grin still prominent on his face and you clench your fist into a ball, wanting to punch that grin off his stupid face though you know you can’t. He would just go running to the teachers and higher-ups and get you in trouble somehow.

You let out a small scoff and continue to glare at him before he talks again.

“What? You really think I’m gonna annoy you today?” He smirks and slowly walks closer to you but you grimace. He leans his head down slightly and you frown deeper. You’re already annoying me with your presence, you want to say.

“You should smile more, it’ll make you more pleasant to look at for once, [name]-” He could barely finish his sentence before your anger got the best of you. How dare he act like nothing’s happened?

“What is your fucking problem, you bastard?” You sneer at him as you shove his chest hard, causing him to widen his eyes at your sudden action and stumble backwards before tripping over his feet and falling to the ground on his bottom, his feet on the floor with his knees bent towards the ceiling and his hands behind him to stabilize himself. His legs are spread out slightly and he winces at the sudden impact.

If your mind wasn’t so flooded with anger right now, you would think that Gojo looks rather hot on the ground staring up at you with a flushed face and widened eyes.

Shit, he didn’t mean for you to get this pissed off. He was planning to ask you to come over to his house later or something. Usually you just ignore him and walk off quietly, he didn’t expect this at all. Why are you getting mad? Haven’t you gotten the hint that he bullies you cause he likes you?

You step a foot down awfully near his crotch and he flinches, staring at it with a red face but you don’t notice. You see his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows harshly. He looks back up at you but quickly looks away when he sees you staring at him so intensely and you’re surprised just how easily he shut up from a simple shove to the ground. Maybe he’s more simple than you thought.

You see his chest rise up and down quickly. The silence is thick and heavy in the air with the sound of his breathing and your own heart beating rapidly in your chest the only noises you hear. The way he refuses to look at you, how red he is, and the way his legs slightly tremble gives you the wrong idea.

Does… seeing you towering over him and staring down at him turn him on somehow? No way, you think.

But when your eyes trail down from his still flushed face down his body and to the place between his spread legs, your idea is confirmed.

“Who said you could get fucking hard right now?” Gojo flinches and his eyes widen, quickly looking down at the rather large bulge in his pants. He tries to cover it with his hands but you quickly kick them away, resulting in his legs spreading even further apart.

Good thing that you’re at one of the more secluded and quiet areas of the school and that not many students nor teachers have classes here.

It’s odd. It’s really odd. How although he could easily get up and run away or even shove you back and say some mean things to you again, he’s not. He’s not doing any of that, just sitting on the ground in front of you like he enjoys it. And a part of you is starting to enjoy the situation as well.

You suddenly remember how although there’s no one in the hallway, there are still some students and teachers in the classrooms near you guys. It seems you two haven’t been loud enough to attract their attention but you know that at any moment, someone could step out into the hallway and spot you two. Though the thought just spurs you on even more.

He hesitates before glancing up at you and swallows again before glancing back at your shoe and it gives you an idea. Without thinking, you lift your foot and press it down on his crotch. The action immediately makes Gojo let out a deep groan and cover his mouth with his hand, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. The sight makes something in your stomach stir although you are still annoyed by his past actions.

Slowly, he opens his eyes back and stares at you, his eyes more soft than before. He puts his hand down and opens his mouth to talk but you notice how he hesitates.

“C-Could we ngh do this in a classroom-“

You quickly cut him off with a scoff. “Really? Do you really think I’m gonna take pity on you after you annoyed me everyday of my college life? It’s not my fault you got hard from just a shove.” You sneer in disgust, making Gojo shiver. “Maybe I should return the favor somehow.” Gojo’s breath hitches in his throat when he sees the anger in your eyes and the way you’re glaring down at him like he’s some sort of useless piece of trash. He feels something throb in his pants.

You suddenly smirk and Gojo has to hold back a whine from the way you look so scary but so hot at the same time.

“I wonder what everyone would think if they were to see you right now, pitifully on the floor like a fucking puppy,” you spit out.

Gojo squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to imagine the sheer shock on everyone’s faces if they were to stumble across him like this in the hallway. But oh God, the way you compare him to a puppy has his stomach fluttering and something else throbbing again.

He opens his eyes again and lets out the most pitiful whine you’ve ever heard and oh does it sound heavenly coming from someone you despise.

“Please?” You contemplate it. As much as you would rather stay in the hallway and ruin him here, you know that if you two were to be caught, you would face suspension and it would ruin your reputation even more. With a sigh and frown, you glance around and spot a dark classroom. Bingo.

You point to it and Gojo’s eyes dart to the empty room, his breathing still fast. He quickly understands it and slowly gets up from the floor.

“Go inside.” It wasn’t a statement, it was an order. He nods and he walks in, glancing behind him to make sure you’re following him inside. As you go into the room, you close the door and lock it, turning back to see Gojo already on the floor on his knees and it makes your heart quicken.

Walking up to him, you before him and immediately return your foot back on his crotch and press down. Gojo lets out a breathy curse from his lips and gasps, his hands obediently at his sides, clenching into fists tightly.

He’s embarrassed at himself for being so easy for you, already at your knees after his plan backfired on him but he’s not complaining. Not when your foot presses down harder which forces a moan out from him and makes his mind foggy. He’s close already. He tells you that and he blushes when you laugh.

“Already? How pathetic,” you tease. “And I thought I would at least get to see you naked first.” The idea of him being fully naked and you fully clothed makes him whimper and he’s quick to open his mouth to beg to get naked for you but you cut him off.

“But I don't think you deserve it after everything you’ve done. You’ll cum from my foot and without taking a piece of clothing off, understood?” He nods before he understands what you said and widens his eyes when he processes it.

“But-” “But?” You raise an eyebrow, daring him to disagree which shuts him right up. You smile and grind your shoe back down on his bulge. “Good, now go on. I know you’re just aching to get some friction, yeah?”

He nods again and doesn’t hesitate for a moment before bucking his hips up against your foot, letting out a soft cry as the pleasure shoots through his body. You keep your foot still and let him do all the work and he lets out a loud moan when a particular thrust has his precum leaking out and dampening his pants.

You feel him twitch underneath your foot and smirk in amusement. “Quiet now, it's still school time, remember?” The reminder has him whimpering, wanting to let out loud noises for you but understanding the environment. You can tell he’s close from the way he’s practically begging with those puppy eyes of his.

“P-Please?” “Please what, Gojo?” He lets out another soft cry, the pleasure being too much. His mind is so foggy from the fact that you two are in an empty classroom and can get caught at any moment and how he can’t let out loud noises like he wants and the feeling of his dick being so hard, it hurts.

And now you’re teasing him. How mean, he wants to say to you. But the chances that you get mad again and leave him here in the classroom by himself with a hard dick is too high. So he begs.

“Please let me cum? Please? I-I’ve been good-” You laugh again. He hasn’t been good at all to you but he has been good at not touching you and keeping quiet. So maybe you’ll take pity on him. Maybe.

“Hm should I?” You pretend to think and Gojo moans, his pace quickening against your foot and he nods frantically. “I don’t think I should.” The second you take your foot off him, Gojo swears he’s close to crying right then and there. His hands subconsciously dart out from his sides to reach for your ankle but your sharp glare stops him.

So instead, he whimpers as tears prickle the corner of his eyes, his dick aching for release. You smirk at the sight.

“Beg for it, Gojo. Unless you want me to leave.” He obeys yet again, almost too eagerly this time that it almost makes you laugh. Geez, knocking Gojo down his high horse is way more fun than you thought it would be.

“[Name] please? Please please please i'll be such a good boy for you i promise!” It’s cute, seeing his glossy eyes and parted lips as he pants like a puppy for you. You swear you see a glimpse of a tail behind him wagging eagerly.

“Do whatever you want to me! Just let me cum, please!” With a smile, you place your foot back on his bulge and press down hard.

He throws his head back with a whimper and he swears he sees stars as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Ah!- T-Thank you ngh” He goes back to his previous quick pace again and it’s not long till he’s close again. He squeezes his eyes shut, not trusting himself to not have them roll back and he hesitantly places his hands around your ankle to keep it there, refusing for you to pull away again. You click your tongue in disapproval but don’t say anything about it which he is grateful about.

“I’m gonna cum im gonna cum-” He babbles out as he continues to rut against your foot like a dog in heat. “Such a good boy for me, telling me that you’re close and not cuming without permission.,” you praise and you swear his hips stutters at that. A sucker for praise, it seems.

His eyes shoot open and it's clear what he’s begging for. “Go on, cum.”

And he does almost immediately. One of his hands shoots up to cover his mouth as he muffles his choked moans and whimpers and your eyes look down to see the spot where his crotch is quickly dampening as he cums.

But you don’t stop, you actually speed up. Gojo feels your foot continuing to grind down on his now damp crotch and he can barely hold on, his hand dropping from his mouth back to hastily hold onto your leg. His eyes widen and curses sputter out of his mouth in stutters.

“S-Shit wait! I’m ngh not ready-” You grab a handful of his hair and yank on it hard, forcing him to look directly at you and let out a rather loud whine. He stares at you with tears ready to fall down his face and oh does he look good like this. He’s on his knees, his hips bucking up to your foot as if he didn’t just say he’s not ready, face flushed such a pretty pink as he stares up at you like you own him. The tight grip you have on his hair has his scalp prickling in pain in such a good way that he almost begs for you to yank harder but another moan escapes him before he can.

“Come on, you were begging so nicely earlier,” you say mockingly, a feign pout on your face as you stare down at the once confident man. “Don’t you want to cum again? I think you got some more in you, yeah?”

He immediately nods and lets out a cry when you step down even harder on his clothed dick and pull on his hair harder. Shit, he’s already close again, the overstimulation getting to him and making it feel all so much better. He can barely even talk or speak full sentences anymore, only letting out mainly whines and whimpers and a few babbles here and there.

Each tug of your hand, grind of your shoe, and praise or degradation you graciously give to him has him soon crying out of pure pleasure. Tears streak down his face slowly as he gets closer to cumming again. You’re almost jealous of how pretty he still is while crying.

“Cum.” That’s all he needs to hear before his hips stutter again and he lets out a quiet sob, cumming for the second time and staining his pants even more.

His pace slows down before stopping, his breath slowing down. He slowly leans forward to lean his cheek against your leg and your breath hitches at the sight. You can feel his hot breath against your leg as he stares up at you with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. He’s mumbling under his breath and you swear you hear “thank you’s” coming out quietly.

You can’t help but lean down slightly and run your hand through his hair, hearing a soft hum coming from him as he sighs when your hand moves down to caress his damp cheek, nuzzling against it.

The sudden sound of the school bell ringing snaps you two out of the trance. Right, you two are still at school in an empty classroom. You hear the other students rush out of the nearby classes to leave and return home and you’re glad that you two aren’t in view of the door window.

You hear a sigh coming from Gojo and you look back at him and see him smile up at you.

“I… enjoyed that,” he murmurs shyly and you can't help but smile. “You did so good for me.” He whines and blushes and you swear you feel another twitch from his crotch.

Let's just say that you two continued to meet at that spot many times after that.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules