#his lip scar just kept growing lmao

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Pairing: Sylus x reader

Tags: mostly fluff, some suggestive content

A/N: LMAO ik I’ve been MIA forever a lot happened BUT lnds has restarted my brain rot so I’m boutta get REAL ANNOYING HAHAHAHA this game has me in a chokehold

Sylus the man that you are 😩

Sylus had been gone for a few days. It shouldn’t have bothered you but it did.

You didn’t know where he went or when he’d come back. Mephisto was gone, even Luke and Kieran had disappeared.

It didn’t feel the same going out into the N109 zone without your second shadow. You haunted the Onychinus base. More specifically Sylus’ wing of the base.

You couldn’t stop yourself from walking into his room one exceptionally lonely night. Or from going into his closet and sneaking his soft grey sweater that you’ve only seen him wear maybe once. It smelled like him.

There was something blossoming between the two of you. Your distaste for him had slowly dissolved. After everything he did to help you it was hard to hate him.

Lately the two of you had become more intimate. There were more soft touches, sneaking glances, many almost kisses but there was some sort of barrier, a line both of you seemed hesitant to cross.

Wearing nothing but his sweater and some underwear, as it went almost down to your knees, you curled up in his bed. It made you blush to think about the time you were trying to steal the brooch from him. After he had evaded his handcuffs and pinned you to the bed, you two had been so close to doing something.

It quickly got ruined when Luke and Kieran came barreling in and then everyone was blushing. Sylus some how kept a nonchalant face.

The softness of his silk sheets and comfortable mattress lulled you to sleep.

Movement in the room started to rouse you. Rubbing your eyes against the soft glow of a lamp, Sylus’ large figure came into view.

“Sorry darling I didn’t mean to wake you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, having a hard time adjusting to the light. Sylus chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

His touch vanished, you squinted trying to see where he went. As your vision cleared, you watched the way his deft hands made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. As he laid it across the chair beside him he turned and made eye contact with you.

A smirk played on his lips as he stalked over to you. He sat down beside your head and cupped your cheek. “Don’t you have your own bed kitten?”

You sleepily giggle, your eyes fluttering closed again. His touch was soothing and warm. “And this sweater looks quite familiar. I think I have one just like it.” His hand left your cheek and went for your exposed thigh.

Sylus massaged the soft skin and slowly you felt the sweater rise with the warmth of his touch as he came to your hip. He gave the area a squeeze before pulling the sweater back down. “Not only do you lay in my bed and steal my clothes but you’re also wearing practically nothing underneath.” A deep laugh sounded from his chest. “Maybe I should leave more often.”

Your eyes opened and your mouth fell into an O. “That’s not nice.” Dramatically you pouted, jutting out your bottom lip. Sylus only smirked and flicked it before standing up and walking into his closet.

He came back out moments later in just his underwear and you couldn’t help but eye him. His steeled abs flexed as he moved about the room. The scars on his skin glowed like stars against the lamp light.

“You’re staring.” His crimson eyes flared a little brighter as he stalked toward you. Your eyes couldn’t help but flick down to the bulge of his underwear.

He laughed as he slid overtop of you and hovered to get a good look at you. Your skin heated against his gaze. The sweater you wore suddenly feeling too hot. As you reached out to touch him he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“Bed time for such a sleepy kitten hm?” He stood up and grabbed your hips pulling you to the edge of the bed. Squealing he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You kept a strong grip around his neck as you snuggled into his skin. Sylus always smelled good. It was addicting. One strong arm gripped your ass as he pulled back the blankets on the bed before laying you back down again.

He released you ready to pull away but you kept your grip around his neck, refusing to let him go. Sylus chuckled, the sound vibrating deliciously throughout your body.

“Come on darling. I’ll lay with you.” Huffing you started to release him. Quickly you planted a kiss on his cheek before he could pull too far away. He kissed your forehead in return. Hesitating at the way you licked your lips but he still pulled away.

Sylus flicked off the light. Dousing the room in completely darkness. You couldn’t see him but you could hear him walk around the bed and pull back the blankets. You stayed facing away from him as he got settled.

There was a moment of silence no movement or words. His hands came out of no where, gripping your hips and pulling you back against him. A giggle passed your lips, he tightly wrapped himself around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You squirmed in his hold, pushing your ass against him as innocently as you could.

“If you keep doing that, the last thing you’ll be doing is sleeping sweetheart.” His voice brushed your ear sending a chill down your spine.

You didn’t feel like sleeping anyway.

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!dreamwalker!reader/female!human!reader

cw: sexual content, possessive neteyam, tsaheylu, semi public sex, dominant neteyam, missionary position, doggy position, TRIGGER WARNING for brief mention of non con, dirty talk, sub reader, fluff, yearning, masturbation, tenderness. I might remember more and add later lol

After AGES (sorry for the hiatus, my loves :( I needed it), the so anticipated smut chapter of his story 🥺💓 I've been wanting to let my babies (yes, I love my characters to this point lol) have this special, intimate moment for so long 😭 it just wasn't the right time yet but now here it is. I wrote a part of this chapter in public, in a cafeteria inside a supermarket and damnnnn my pussy was clenching so much lol it was a weird situation lmao fuck I need Neteyam inside of me istg I can't anymore 😭 I hope my dear readers enjoy this <33

PS: in this story, Neteyam was shot on his arm when he was fighting the RDA, not on his chest, hence a scar on his arm is gonna be mentioned.

Slightly proofread. I'll edit it as soon as I can.

Chapter 9

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I can never look away

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

Things will never be the same

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

Now I'm wide awake

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

(...)

All of you, all of me intertwined

Daylight (Taylor Swift)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Neteyam's lips kissed your neck in a perfect mix of tenderness and passion. Your whimpers filled the air as you felt his big bulge rubbing against your ass and Neteyam took that as a sign that you were enjoying that level of intimacy with him. He was finally able to show you how much he craved you, how just the thought of your wet pussy made him get hard as a rock.

Neteyam was leaking so much precum for you, his loincloth had a stain on it from his thick salty liquid, as he kept rubbing himself against your butt in a languid yet delicious pace, almost driving you insane.

His four fingers hovered over the sensitive skin of your arm.

 "Your skin feels so soft, oeyä muntxate… just touching it makes me get even harder for you."

You turned your head back to look at him and his amber eyes stared deep into yours. Your fingers softly touched his beautiful face, tracing his dark blue stripes and his freckles.

Neteyam let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, savoring your touch. You turned yourself around completely, your body towards him now, and your lips reached for Neteyam's mouth. You softly kissed him, feeling how plump and wet his lips were. Neteyam eagerly kissed you back as soon as your soft mouth came in contact with his. His tongue sneaked between your upper and your lower lip carefully but passionately and you opened your mouth wider so he could explore the insides of it. Neteyam laid over you and you felt his cock growing even harder and bigger, now pressed against your soaking wet pussy, still covered by your clothes. You wanted him so bad, he made you so weak that you couldn't help but moan against his lips. Neteyam ended the kiss leaving two pecks in your lips delicately.

“I want you so bad… your body, your scent, your lips on mine…”

Neteyam touched the sleeves of your white cropped top slightly, taking his time, not wanting to startle you or make you feel like he doesn't respect your boundaries, but Eywa knows there was a hungry animal inside of him who only wanted to bury himself deep inside your tight pussy, rough and merciless. His animalistic side wanted to hunt you down and catch you like a prey, mating with his female, taking what's his. But he knew it was too soon to act like that. This was gonna be your first time together and the last thing he wanted was to scare you, to drive you away. He could not live without you again. He needed to have the scent of your skin on him to survive.

His fingers finally reached the hem of your top and as he watched your body language, Neteyam noticed you welcomed his actions, so, he took your top off, your hair getting a little messed up as he passed it over your head. He threw it to the side and couldn't care less about where it had landed because all he could focus on was your breasts. They were much bigger than the breasts of the other na'vi girls, as you were in an Avatar body. That pleased him beyond reason. Neteyam's hands traveled through the delicate blue skin of your tits, caressing it with the most tender touch, his fingers drawing over your bioluminescent freckles. You watched his face, the way he looked dumb with desire and longing, his mouth half open, his breath heavy.

“Oeyä muntxate, how can you be even more beautiful in this body? Your human breasts drive me crazy, you know that, but these… your pink nipples contrasting with your blue skin, these stripes, your little freckles… fuck, my love… I wanna suck on your titties, bury my face on them and never let go.”

You chuckled slighty “Then I think you should. I'm yours, Neteyam.”

“Yeah? You're mine? Say it again. Say you're only mine.” He dared teasingly 

“I'm only yours, Neteyam. My body belongs to you.” Neteyam's smile was big and proud

One of his hands cupped your right breast as he took your lips on his, tasting the softest mouth he had ever kissed.

Neteyam kissed the tip of your cat like nose, then left kisses on your mouth, your chin and your throat. His lips rapidly found your nipple and he took it inside his mouth, suckling on it profusely, his hunger taking over him. Your na'vi ears moved downwards, your mouth was half open and your eyes closed, your back arching slighty. Your folds got wetter and wetter as he sucked on your other tit now like he had been starving for that for way too long and it had been killing him.

Neteyam traced your stomach slowly with his fingers, the bare touch of his digits scorching you with delight. He carefully started to unbutton your shorts as he looked into your eyes, as if asking for permission. You nodded and he slid your piece of clothing down your legs. You opened your legs slightly and his big hand cupped your pussy, covered by your soaking wet panties. That made a thought pop up in your mind: did female Avatars have a hymen? Would you feel pain and bleed once he penetrated you? You never bothered to ask about that to your teachers because… well… you never thought you'd be having sex in your Avatar body. You could never imagine that Neteyam would appear to you. Never… that made you hold back a smile but the corners of your lips curled up, in stubbornness.

“Why are you smiling?” Neteyam teased “Do you like when I touch you like this, muntxate?”

“Yes.” Even though that wasn't why you were smiling, that was undeniably true.

Neteyam smiled, proud of himself, and wrapped his tail around your leg, making you feel owned by him and that always turned you on beyond explanation.

He just wanted to pleasure his precious mate already. The way your juices smelled was driving him mad. Neteyam needed to finally have your taste all over his tongue. But before that, he wanted to do something important.

“It's time, tanhì. Tsaheylu.” He was nervous to ask you for something that was utterly normal and natural to his people but could be so very weird to you. In that moment, Neteyam was so aware that you had been raised in a totally different culture. That as much as you were na'vi in your soul and was in your na'vi body now, you were still… human.

But you eagerly consented. He breathed out, relieved and the fearful look left his face, where now there was a soft smile, showing no teeth. 

Your fingers trembled softly as you took your long braid in your hand and your tendrils were now free, the delicate, thin extremities dancing in the air.

“No need to be nervous, yawne. You're my mate. We belong to each other. Do you trust me?”

You looked at him with doe eyes “I do. I'm not scared. Just nervous.” You smiled coyly and he kissed your hand tenderly

When you both brought your pinkish tendrils together and they intertwined, you felt a powerful wave piercing through your whole being.

How do you explain that you can see yourself through someone's thoughts? How do you explain that you can feel, not sense, but literally feel how much the person you love loves you back, just like your spirits are one and the same? Your teachers in the laboratory taught you that tsaheylu worked very similarly to how synapses work in the human brain, extremely similar actually. Neteyam was passing to you his emotions through his kuru and so were you, like you both… had the same mind. As weird as it sounds to a human being, you never knew you needed that invincible, raw connection until that moment. It was euphoria running through your veins but also calming too. It almost did not make sense… but it did. It cannot be explained rationally, you can't use your brain to understand it. Only your heart will. His electrical waves invaded your body and your soul like a sword, its blade so sharp, the love so strong, that none of your barriers could keep him away, keep him from becoming one with you. You could only wonder if that was real, if that moment wasn't just a part of a crazy dream.

That's the best you could come up with to try to explain something as ethereal and sacred as tsaheylu. There are no words, at least not in the limited English language that you could try to use that would convey the feeling that it was having Neteyam's tendrils intertwining with yours. It was like they were made to be there, together, connected. Like some force said so in the beginning of time and there was nothing nobody could ever do to prevent it. Just like the cycle of life, it was an unstoppable force, you and him, the love you shared.

You hadn't realized when you had closed your eyes but once you opened them, you saw Neteyam with his eyes still closed and his lips parted, like he was in a trance. You couldn't help but smile. Was he feeling something as strong as you did? After a few seconds, he opened his sparkling golden eyes. Neteyam smiled at you and held onto your waist, kissing you passionately.

He gently pushed you to lay on your back, his hands on your shoulders. Neteyam left a trail of delicate kisses in between your breasts and went down, opening your legs.

“I'm addicted to how you smell. How can you have this power over me, yawne?” His wide eyes were locked on yours while he pronounced those enticing words 

Neteyam kissed your navel and licked over your wet panties, tasting your juices. Your breath got caught in your throat, so good it felt. He got rid of the last piece of clothing keeping him from tasting your cunt - that now belonged to him. Neteyam was impatient, it was like he needed to eat you out right now or he would die.

When his mouth finally reached your pussy and he licked your soaking wet folds for the first time and your taste invaded his taste buds, it was like he was gonna explode. His tongue lapped on your cunt over and over, desperately, like an animal, like you had just awakened his rut, even though it wasn't possible. But maybe it was. You had a hold on him that no other girl had ever had. And he knew that there would never be anyone else for him but you. Neteyam ate your pussy like you had the best taste he ever had on his tongue. And you did. He had been yearning to taste you for so long. Just touching himself thinking about you hadn't been enough for some time. He was so, so grateful to Eywa that he was finally there, with you, mating with the girl he loved so much, the girl who had turned him from a man into a burning flame, so strong was the desire he felt for you.

“Yawntu…” Neteyam cried “You taste so good…” he sucked on your clit, making your pussy feel hot and your entrance clench around nothing, aching to be fucked by his cock. 

You were now no longer a girl but a moaning mess. There was a boiling pool of pleasure in your lower stomach. Your body contorted under him.

When he was done eating your cunt, Neteyam sat on his ankles, and took his cock in his hand, its impressive girth and length turning you on, making your pussy get wetter, your inner thighs all sticky.

Neteyam started to jerk himself off, his swollen tip pouring precum out insanely while he gazed at your body with lust tainted eyes.

It was such a sight to see, so hot it had your heart beating at the speed of light and you felt your pussy walls clenching around nothing, yet again.

You could not believe he was like that because of you. Were you that pretty? So pretty that you were able to get the attention of such a gorgeous creature? Getting to the answer didn't matter, though. All that mattered to you at that moment was how hot he was and how crazy he was for your body. Neteyam's huge cock made you feral and you knew he was feral over your body too.

"Can I put it in, baby?" Neteyam asked, still stroking his blue cock. You watched him use his four slender fingers to stimulate himself with want in your eyes. The way the veins there were all loaded with blood… Fuck. "Need you so bad…" he cooed, yearning.

"Yeah" You meant to speak but it came off more like a moan

Neteyam gave you a lustful look with his wide feline eyes, the yellow in them luring you in as they shone like gold.

He put his cock on your entrance, making you quiver a little by the slightest contact of his member with your cunt. When he had all his length inside of you, there was the animalistic Neteyam again. The one you met that night outside your bedroom window, the one who could barely keep himself from forcing his body on you.

"You're mine!" Neteyam said and then groaned "All mine! Ahhh, fuck, yawne!" He kept slamming his hips vigorously against yours

No words could possibly come out of your mouth at that time. All your brain would let you do was moan loudly. 

"Eywa… you're clenching so much around my cock" He chuckled "Do you like being fucked by me as much as I like fucking you?" He said, while thrusting deep into you.

"Mmmgh…" You pathetically mewled 

"Yes, you do, yawnetu" Neteyam let out a sexy, almost cocky smirk. He loved knowing he could melt you like that, give you so much pleasure you couldn't even speak.

Neteyam kept fucking you hard, slamming his hips against yours, his tip reaching deep inside your body, poking at your womb, bruising your insides but bringing you to a state of raw pleasure that you never thought your body was capable of feeling. 

He felt divine as he buried himself inside your sensitive flesh, his moans just would not stop filling your ears, turning you on beyond reason, driving you closer and closer to the edge of Paradise.

“Get on all fours for me, oeyä muntxate”

You obeyed Neteyam's command without thinking twice.

In the blink of an eye, he was inside of you again, reaching deeper this time, making you moan in an addictive mix of pain and delight as his swollen tip reached your womb with every thrust.

"This pretty, tight pussy is all mine now. This body…" He let out an animalistic growl "so fucking hot, all for me. All mine. Yawne…" he moaned loud for you before he pulled out and pumped his cock as his warm, sticky seed fell all over your ass and reached the beginning of your lower back. That sight was by far the most beautiful thing Neteyam had ever seen. He had marked you as his. Completely. His cum covering your skin as a sign to show who you belonged to.

You laid at the wooden floor, flushed and panting a little as Neteyam smirked and kissed your back. He still breathed heavy as he ran his hand over your back, in a sensual caress. Neteyam was beyond proud of what he had done to his precious mate. Now you were utterly, undoubtedly and completely his.

༊⁀➷

When you two were holding each other, cuddling after having made love, you noticed a big scar on Neteyam's arm. How did you not notice it before? It was big and ragged. You felt bad for not noticing it before. But then you realized he wasn't wearing the brown beaded bracelet he used to always wear that day. That must be why. He hid his scar under his bracelet.

“I never noticed before that you had a scar on your arm”

He chuckled, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “Yes, I have one.”

“How did you get it?”

He breathed deeply and then let the air out, his eyes now clouded, like some terrible memory was hunting him. “Fighting against the demons. The Sky People.”

“I see…”

"It's kinda ugly, I know." He joked but you could see right through his smile and the obvious way he was now covering it with his hand. Neteyam was insecure about the way his skin looked with the scar on it.

You kissed the scar on his arm tenderly, your lips gentle as they did so.

"It's not ugly. I like it." You told Neteyam as your eyes were fixed on his scar "It only reminds me that you've been through something terrible but survived it, that you're strong." You looked up into his eyes again and Neteyam smiled at you tenderly yet coyly, showing no teeth.

“The bullet hit my artery. I bled so much when I got shot that my family thought I was gonna die. But I believe the Great Mother found a way to protect me because there was a female warrior with us and she was also a healer. She was able to stop the bleeding until they could get me to my grandmother, the Tsahìk. You know what a Tsahìk is, right?” He smiled softly, petting your face, his thumb gentle as the touch of a flower 

“I do. They're the spiritual leaders and healers of the clans, right?” 

“That's right, yawntu.” Neteyam was happy you knew a lot about his culture. The culture you should have been born in. You were his na'vi mate, in your soul you were na'vi. He knew it, he could feel it. Seeing you in your na'vi body (or in your Dreamwalking body, like his mother and grandmother used to say) felt so right. Like things finally were how they should be. You were just temporarily spending more time in the wrong body, the human one. But that would change soon.

Your heart hurt profusely, you wondered how your life would be if you hadn't met him, if he had died.  It's weird to think this, but you felt like it would hurt you to lose him like that, even if you wouldn't be actually losing him if you would never have met him, right?

Even so… thinking about it made you almost despair. How can you love someone so much like that? That the mere thought of having never met him shatters you? And beyond that, you hated that he had got shot. By humans. Your kind. That made you feel dirty, ashamed to share DNA with such a despicable race, one capable of hurting and almost killing a young man who was just trying to protect his family, his people, his home.

You fought back tears and of course he noticed. Neteyam noticed everything about you. Nothing would go past his golden eyes.

“Hey, don't cry.” He said 

“I hate that it happened to you.” He gave you a comforting smile 

“I survived. It's okay.” All you could do was hug him tight, still stuck in the thought of having lost the opportunity of meeting the best person you ever laid eyes upon

He hugged you back, his arms making you feel at home. They were your home now. You were far too sacred in Neteyam's eyes, like a pure, delicate creature he must protect at any cost. And he would. Neteyam would live and die for you.

He was way more than you had ever dreamed of in a partner. He showed you a kind of love you never even thought could exist, so pure and strong and raw and powerful. You wanted it to engulf you. You wanted to dive deep into Neteyam's ocean and never come back for air again. You wanted to learn how to breathe under his waters, just so you could never leave the state of mind that being loved by him, feeling that love so strongly, all over you, burning you so good, put you in. It was a sweet ecstasy.

After a while, Neteyam walked you back to your small room in the laboratory and when you were safe, inside the building, he headed back to his family's hut. Your taste and the way you felt were still all over him, though. Your beautiful face was haunting his thoughts. A part of him was left with you.

༊⁀➷

"Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.”

Romeo Montague - Romeo and Juliet (William Shakespeare)

༊⁀➷

This is the last chapter of the Part 1 of this story :) see you guys in Part 2, hopefully! Thank you all for reading it and being in this journey with our beloved characters until now 💕

•

Taglist:

@onskepa

@tumblingdevils

@a-blog-name-2003

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@lik0

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[pink-strawberry-kissess]

Thank you!!!!! @visualheresy :D

rules: give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the fewest words.

IM STILL A BABY WRITER FOR THIS FANDOM LOL

Fic with the most hits: The Night Shift

Leon found himself looking forward to each and every shift that she would come in. Knowing that he’d be able to see her again. They went on more “not dates,” which mostly consisted of sitting in the corner of the cafe after his shifts. And occasionally enjoying a stroll in the park that often went on too long into the evening. They spent a few nights on the park benches, staring up at the skies and the few stars that managed to shine. - from chapter 2

Second most kudos: Mornings with you

Still not stirred from her sleep, a soft smile grew on his lips as he admired her sleeping form. So rare to see, he couldn’t help but stare. Like a flower that only blooms once, he cherished these soft moments. Memorizing it and tucking it away. She was much more spared from any scars from the world than him, perhaps it was just her ability to always slip away that kept her more unscathed from the world they lived in. She was perfect to him, despite knowing that she was far from perfect from everyone else’s eyes. Her flaws he always seemed to overlook, found them to be endearing somehow. 

Guess that’s how love works. 

Third most comments: A Midnight with you

“You shouldn’t be playing around when you’re working. Should you, Agent Kennedy?” She asks in sultry honey filled voice.

Leon swallows, unable to stay focused. He’d lose focus whenever he was with her.  Especially from her. The warmth of her hands permeated through his suit to his chest. The feeling of her touch trailed down towards his thigh, getting far too close for comfort. He felt his body twinge suddenly. His dress pants growing uncomfortable in seconds. 

Fourth most bookmarks: A Vacation with you

The morning light fills the entire bedroom in that pleasantly annoying way. The sun is so perfectly bright and beautiful but Leon struggles to keep the light away, shielding his eyes with his arm as he struggles to fall asleep again.

He can’t. His head is still pounding. Albeit more tolerable than last night. But more sleep is exactly what he wanted, he’s on vacation after all. Already regretting his choices yet again, he takes a few seconds to recount his night.

He had dinner by the little restaurant near the hotel, the bar. Drinks. More drinks. Even more drinks. Red cherry. The red drink. Red dress. The woman at the bar.

Ada.

Fifth most words: Longing with you

Ada stirred, a more audible sigh leaving her. “Are you going to sleep or keep staring at me?” She finally opened her eyes to see Leon fairly close to her, just inches apart. Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness fairly quickly, seeing the halo of the light from the window shining against his dark blond fringe. Casting an heavenly glow to him. A sight she wished she could see more often, just like this, every night. After everything was said and done, and they only had each other and nothing else.

“I don’t know. Will I see you in the morning?”

Fic with the fewest words: and i'm cheating here but my one post of all my fanarts has the fewest words LMAO some of my leon x ada fanart

my current fave is my newest piece

i have no idea who to tag but whoever wants to do this!!! please do!!!!!!!

[tojisun]

submission from @greek4wood

I think I ran out of tears while reading How We Break. Can I just say you did a great job making Toji more human with it and not just an ATM of sperm.

Following the former request what if MC is pregnant and didn’t tell Toji. Can I ask if you could do a vice versa of it. Like Toji knew MC was pregnant but still chose mamaguro. What would their child’s reaction to them meeting?

You don’t have to do this. I just kept on thinking about it lmao

hi omg!!! i really like this prompt thank you so much!!! and it turned out to be another long fic shajjs this is quite different from both parts of hwb so it took me too long to complete and it ended up having more words again ;v;

IT TURNED OUT TO BE DIFFERENT BUT I HOPE YOU’LL LIKE THIS <33

cw: pregnancy, ocs / word count: 2.6k

[how we break]; [hwb au pregnant reader]

you are just entering your seventh months when toji leaves you.

it was laughable, really, how it happened. just last night, toji was kissing at your belly, smiling from your lap as he rumbled in happiness. you were playing with his hair, giggling in delight at the ticklish feeling of his light kisses, and full on laughing when he began talking to your belly.

“toji!” you said, laughing, “stop it, c’mon!”

“can’t. i’m just so happy,” he replied as he continued cooing at your stomach.

a wobbly smile made it on your lips. “me too, love, me too.”

he looks at you, scarred lips pulled in a wide smile that is so, so beautiful on him. “we did this.”

he said it with so much wonder and joy, eyes alight with life and you felt your heart swell with love. when you knew you were carrying, you were so afraid that toji would leave; that as much as he said he loved you, he didn’t want another one.

then you sat him down and showed him your pregnancy test and cried, body shaking, when he cheered in joy. little megumi was happy too, both dad and son instantly turning to your flat belly as though the baby would just magically grow there and then.

megumi was disappointed that he’d have to wait a long time for a sibling, but toji? gods, it was like toji changed overnight. all of a sudden, he’s a man brimming with love and you are just so incredibly happy.

but good things need to end, don’t they?

silly that you still didn’t learn. did you really think all good things would last? that at the face of choosing between you and the woman who had saved toji from his haunting past, toji would choose you?

of course he wouldn’t.

of course.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“i’m sorry,” he says, hands clutching onto yours. “i’m so, so sorry.”

you do not answer despite the pain clawing at your chest and the tears running down your cheeks. you can hear your heart beating loudly from within your chest, nausea bubbling up from the pit of your stomach. you want to wrench your hands from his if only to cradle at your belly—a reminder that toji is not taking everything with him. but your body is listless as though your strength has been sucked out of you until you are left as a husk.

megumi has long left with his mother. ever since she came back, he never left her side, favouring to stick with her as though she would fizzle from existence if he strayed far for a long time. 

you just wished that he said goodbye, at least.

you look back at toji, your eyes meeting his, reminiscent of the nights you two spent looking at each other, sharing whispers and quiet laughter as the excitement about your baby fills you two.

“i wish they’d have your eyes,” you told him, your thumb rubbing at his cheeks and onto the lines under his eyes.

“i love yours better,” he uttered, “i rather they have yours.”

he studies you for a moment and you do not know what he sees in yours that had toji kissing at your knuckles, so gentle that you know it is another silent apology. you wish that he’d say more—an explanation, a reason, anything that is not just another “i’m sorry.”

what good is his apology when he is still leaving?

“leave,” you finally say, pulling your hands from his to fold over your belly. you look away when you notice his eyes following your movements, his hand frozen in front of him. you flinch when he tries coming close, body tensing in fear.

you hear him snivel but you still do not look. not when he whispers yet another apology, and not when he steps out of your room and out of your apartment.

when the door clicks shut, you break. you weep, crumpling in grief. your breaths run ragged as your heart constricts and your lungs feel like giving out. 

you know toji loves her. you know she is important in his life, but why? why did he leave you? why did he choose her? why were you and your baby not enough? why did she come back and take him from you?

you do not understand. questions and memories are mixing together, further tearing you apart.

you remember his kindness and his love and his promises of “i love you.” you remember standing in front of the mirror, studying the bump of your belly that has began to show. you remember toji entering the room, seeing you with your shirt pushed up and your belly out, his face breaking out in a smile as he crosses the distance between you two to place a trembling hand on top of yours. you remember toji nosing at your hair, his other hand clutched at your waist as you both began dancing slightly in joy.

you remember him saying, “our baby,” in a voice so heavy with love and awe.

and now he’s left you and your child.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

you needed to move on from toji quickly; if not for you, then for your child.

you had to let go of the pain, refusing to let toji’s absence tarnish your child’s arrival any more. you want to be happy and so you moved on.

you left tokyo altogether, moving back into your friend’s apartment in nagoya. the move was strenuous, your friends only allowing you to carry your purse as they help you throughout the travel. they coo whenever you waddle and their presence fills you up with so much joy. it is like being young again, living a life without toji. it is quite jarring but you settle easily.

you laugh when chiyo tells you how much she’s missed you, cursing at toji for pulling you from nagoya. you tell her that you moved for work but she is bent on blaming toji overall. you laugh at her protectiveness. she doesn’t ask what happened and you do not tell her. not yet, anyways. instead, she helps you forget about toji either it is through shopping for baby clothes or through thinking of possible names for your baby.

tuesday morning, she drives you to your ultrasound.

“what is it?” she asks, standing up from the waiting room passing you a bottle of water. 

“it’s a girl!” you say excitedly, laughing when she cheers loudly.

she helps you back into her car, discussing about possible names and other essentials for your daughter. and it is in the comfort of her old car, as you hold onto the ultrasound pictures, that you finally tell her what happened.

“it still hurts, chiyo,” you whimper out, breaths coming out short and choked up. “sometimes i think it’s impossible for me to raise my daughter on my own and–”

“you’re not alone,” she tells you, coming to hold onto your hand. you turn to her, surprised when you see her crying. “we’re here for you. and even then, you’re an amazing person and we know that you will be an amazing mother. so don’t doubt yourself, okay?”

you sniffle. “okay.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

thirteen hours of labour and she is finally born—your little ball of light and love, himari.

she is so tiny and small, skin still tinged pink, and yet she is so perfect. she wails in distress, cries loud and strong, and you hold your hand out to embrace her. the nurse places her on your chest, and you cradle her, humming in comfort.

“my baby,” you tell her, ghosting a finger on her back, “my beloved. mama’s here for you.”

and maybe it is the fortitude in your voice or the warmth of your skin, but himari stops crying and finally settles to sleep.

you graze a kiss at her head, still afraid of hurting her, before succumbing to exhaustion too.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

himari has toji’s eyes just like you wished.

green and flakes of gold stare back at you as you bounce her in your arms. she is supposed to be asleep an hour ago, but she threw a fit and had only recently stopped.

she squirms in your arms, whining, before settling once again. she still stares at you, almost unblinking. she is sucking on her pacifier, a green one with cartoon frogs for design, her tiny hands curled in fists.

“i love you himari,” you whisper, placing a kiss on her chubby cheeks, smiling when your daughter nuzzles at your face. oh how precious she is.

you sing another song, voice washing over himari until her long lashes flutter quickly as though fighting slumber. you want to giggle at how adorable she is, but she begins to ease to sleep and you hold in the burst of happiness as you finish the song.

(megumi loves that song. you don’t know where he’s heard it, but sometimes when you tuck him in his bed, he asks you to sing it for him.

it took a long night with megumi suffering from nightmares, for you learn that it was a song from his early childhood. a song she sang for him. one that you sing for your own daughter now.)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

you raise himari with all the love that you can pour. chiyo is there along the way, ensuring that you do not feel the choking loneliness of being a single parent. your friends have all learned to spoil himari, especially when she turns her puppy eyes on them. 

often, you are still scared that himari feels the absence of toji. surely, she knows something is missing in their family. but your daughter never asks; she never looks for toji as though content with just you. and she is.

himari is four when you meet gojo satoru.

satoru is beautiful. he is made of alabaster skin, rivalled only by his snow-white of a hair, with the prettiest sets of larimar for eyes. when he spoke to you, his voice carried a certain power that drew you to him.

you are parts afraid and parts enthralled to satoru who is like a siren.

and as though meeting this person is not an anomaly enough, you learn that he is attracted to you.

“i have a daughter,” you tell him, face blank and heart barricaded. you refuse to be hurt again, especially not when you have a four year old daughter waiting for you at home.

he blinks, astonished, then, “i don’t mind at all.” he says this with such a gentle smile–

but toji’s was as warm, was as gentle. he promised he’d love you and your daughter too, but where is he now? certainly not with you and himari.

perhaps satoru saw something in your eyes because he dropped the conversation and let you change the topic.

you wish you can trust him, but you are still afraid. still wounded. abandonment does not heal that fast.

but you did not expect him to prove his love to you.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

himari loves satoru.

when satoru comes to visit, himari’s always attached to him, little fingers clasped at satoru’s large ones. they always walk hand-in-hand, eating beside each other with himari demanding to be fed. satoru’s just as clingy.

“who’s our little shining light?” satoru would always ask.

“i am!” himari’s answer would always follow.

chiyo eyes you from the kitchen, discarding the peeler as she finally turns to you. you pretend that you do not feel her piercing gaze so chiyo pokes at you instead.

“are you sure you two are not dating?”

you groan. “i am!”

she squints her eyes at you before turning to look at satoru and himari again. satoru’s helping himari with some origami now, his tongue poked out of his shining lips and himari mimics him, her lips glistening with too much spit.

you smile at them, shaking your head lightly before turning back to chiyo who’s smirking at you.

“what?”

“nothing,” she says, stifling a giggle, “just that i think hima-chan would be mad if gojo doesn’t become her daddy.”

you chuck a mushroom at her, aware of the flush crawling from your cheeks to your shoulders.

“just saying!”

“shut up!”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

himari is five and you finally admit that you’re in love with gojo satoru.

satoru cries when you tell him this, gathering you in his long arms. you feel shy as you are older than him, but he chases those insecurities away.

“you are perfect,” he whispers, lips ghosting above yours. your lips tingle at the feeling of his, heart thundering so loudly in your chest that you are sure satoru can hear it. “you are so, so perfect and i am so in love with you.”

you feel like sobbing. like screaming at the fullness in your heart, overwhelming you so.

“me too, toru,” you whimper out, “i’m so in love with you.”

when he kisses you, it feels like you are being devoured by the stars.

his lips leave searing trails and you hum at the face of the heat.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

himari is seven when she asks about toji.

you and himari have moved out of nagoya and back into tokyo where satoru lives. chiyo follows you three, saying that she’s too attached to himari now to even think about living alone again. satoru welcomes her in your new home but she refuses and finds a place two bus stops away.

“i know papa’s not my real papa, so,” himari begins, trailing off when you and satoru turn to her. she plays with the ends of her shirt, avoiding eye contact. you pry her fingers away and smile when she looks up, nodding at her and urging her to continue. “where is my real papa?”

satoru goes to stand up, about to give you and himari your privacy when you shake your head.

i need you here, you think.

and like always, satoru understands. he moves to sit beside you, hand resting on your thigh as a silent comfort.

“your papa’s real name is toji,” you tell her, swallowing the lump in your throat as you suppress the memories. “and he left because he has a different family.”

“does he not love me?”

you tense, breath hitching a bit. satoru’s hand begins massaging at your thigh in comfort and slowly, your body eases back.

you think of toji kissing at your belly, scarred lips always upturned into the brightest smile. you think of toji talking to your belly, promising a lifetime supply of love and protection. you think of toji crying, begging for your forgiveness.

and you say, “he does, my starfire.”

himari is silent for a minute before, “am i a meanie for loving papa more than him?”

you hear satoru’s stuttered breaths from beside you and you feel a rush of happiness.

you were prepared for this to be a sad memory for himari, and yet your daughter always manages to brighten everything for everyone.

“of course not, darling,” you reply, nudging at satoru.

satoru sobs before surging forward to pick himari up and embracing her tightly.

“i love you so much, our ball of light,” satoru tells her and kisses her cheeks, two for each side.

himari squeals in delight.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

himari would look for toji when she turns twenty.

standing in front of the old fushiguro household, the only person she would meet is fushiguro megumi, her half brother.

megumi knows of her; how can he not when he began looking for her when he turned fifteen?

himari would ask about her father, the man who she only knows from your stories. and when megumi tells her that fushiguro toji died in a mission, himari would feel nothing.

[burnedbyshoto]

sleeping beauty

— You struggle to find a time to have sex with your beloved Aizawa. Unfortunately or fortunately, the only time you can fuck him is when he’s deep asleep.

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pairing: aizawa shouta x yandere fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, yandere!reader, non-con somnophilia, hairy aizawa rights, recording

word count: 4,201

a/n: mark ur calendar, im getting my nipples pierced nov 8. you bet ur ass imma write a bunch of nipple pierced readers from there on out. pray that my family never finds out about my nipples tho LMAO if they do,,, it;ll be ripped out of my boobies without a seconds hesitation

kinktober day 19 main kink: somnophilia | kinktober masterlist

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Aizawa was always busy.

Over the past ten years of knowing him, the two of you had been close. You were a good friend to him, someone he wouldn’t absolutely avoid at all costs when you walked through the hallways of UA, someone he wouldn’t mind rambling to him about their long day. Of course, you knew that you weren’t his closest friend, and to a certain degree, that upset you.

You had met Aizawa when you had first been a high school student; at the time, you were merely fifteen years old. He was twenty, only five years older than you, but he took your breath away from the first team-up. He had been tall, dark, and brooding, and your little coming out of an emo phase heart stood no chance. But, due to the age discrepancy, he was never anything more than a team member. Still, you held on.

You graduated from high school, made your impact as a sidekick, graduated to a Pro Hero, and offered a job at UA by the time you were twenty! So, for the past five years, you and Aizawa had been actual co-workers, and better yet, friends.

Aizawa indeed was one of a kind.

He still held the key to your emo school girl fantasy daydream, but you also discovered new sides and angles of him. You learned he was incredibly kind, thoughtful, and looked out for everyone, even if his gruff and sometimes rude mannerisms spoke otherwise. Although he tried to avoid any type of nonsensical drama like the plague, he was always caught up in it, which often amused you.

There was so much about Aizawa that you loved, so much that you adored and looked up to that it was no surprise that you figured your feelings of respect and admiration became love. 

True, deep love.

As a third-year teacher at UA, you found that your interactions with Aizawa were quite limited. Not only because he was always being placed with a first-year class and said class moving on without him — something that only happened because he kept expelling the damn students — but because he was incredibly close with the first-year teachers.

You loved Present Mic and Midnight and All Might, don’t get it wrong! Your admiration, love, and respect for them were unprecedented, but you hated how much of Aizawa’s time they took.

“Sorry, Mic needs help with lesson plans for my class,” Aizawa apologized for postponing your lunch date, not a date.

“Sorry, Midnight needs help separating the problem children. Apparently, they’re growing an immunity to her quirk,” Aizawa grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket before leaving your office where you both had been talking and drinking tea.

“Sorry, All Might—”

“It the class, your problem children, I get it,” you force a smile onto your face, trying not to show just how irritated and disappointed you were on how these days were going. Aizawa pauses for a second, his tired, dried out eyes trying to read and uncover the depths of emotions swimming in your eyes before he sighs and runs off. 

But it went without saying that the people you hated most were Class 1-A.

The damn stupid, fucking, ungrateful class had already caused your beloved Aizawa to be hospitalized. The scar under his eye, a numbing reminder that you had nearly lost him, almost had to cry at his coffin with your feelings never once being uttered. They, without a doubt, took up his time the most.

He saw potential in all of them, none of them being failed or expelled by him thus far.

He spent countless hours up in the dead of night tracking each and every one of his student’s potential. Slaving away at his tablets to make sure that they all were feeling safe, heroic, and above all, they were headed to their individual greatness. So, although it would be two more years before you would have the opportunity to teach this class, you already had a vendetta against Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki. Those little shits always taking up your precious Aizawa’s time! He had never been this tired prior to them showing up!

But you never tried to think about it when you were with him.

You tried to openly accept your Aizawa’s new, incredibly busy schedule, and the moment the dorms appeared within UA, you found yourself more at ease.

To be frank, since you acknowledged your love for Aizawa at the mere age of twenty, and now at twenty-five, you had never taken on a lover or a one night stand. For years you had not allowed a person to grace you in bed or in their arms. It felt like you were betraying your love, and you would rather die than let that happen. 

But the thing is, you are human, entirely susceptible to waves of uncontrolled horniness and lust.

In the beginning, sex toys worked.

You would press a vibrator to your clit, your toes digging into the mattress as your other hand shoved a silicone dildo into your aching, needy cunt. At first, it worked! You would cum with the thoughts of Aizawa being the dildo buried deep within you. 

But eventually, you would find yourself at the peak of that orgasm, you knew the orgasm was right beyond the bend, just a step more, but you couldn’t get there. For weeks you realized that the vibrator, the dildo, and your fantasy thoughts weren’t enough. So, in your frustration, you began to search up audio plays of his narration at UA Sports Festival. Listening to his voice, ignoring Mics’ voice, to help coax you over that bend.

For a while, you were back to normal. Your highs and juices splattering all over your bed, a symbol of your lust and love for Aizawa as you gasped his name, wishing that the audio was real. But eventually, even the audios weren’t enough.

You craved Aizawa’s warmth, the feeling of his rough stubble against your sensitive skin, the throbbing of his cock buried deep within your womb, undoubtedly kissing your cervix. You wanted him; you needed your beloved.

As if by the grace of God, the moment you could no longer bring yourself to cum through that alone, the dorm system was put into place. And you, a teacher, were required to live on campus too. You tried not to think of Aizawa being a dorm away, tried not to feel the warmth fluttering under your skin when the two of you bid goodnight for the day.

You definitely tried to stay out of his room in the middle of the night.

God, you wish you could say that you stayed out of his room, but that would be a lie.

A big fat fucking lie.

It had started out innocently enough, you will claim.

You would see the exhausted man wave goodnight, grumbling that he needed to sleep now or else he would not wake up on time for homeroom tomorrow morning. You waved goodnight to him, trying to stay engrossed in a conversation you were having with Hound Dog. But an hour after Aizawa had gone to bed, you found yourself rushing away from the common room, explaining you had something to grade as you bid everyone goodnight.

Without a doubt, you ended up in Aizawa’s room that night.

In the darkness of the night, you watched the moonlight barely breach the thickness of his curtains to fall onto his face. You felt so warm as you stared at his slumbered face, your cheeks flushed as you watched his parted, chapped lips. You felt so light watching his chest rise and fall in a hypnotizing rhythm, reminding you that he is real, so very, very real. A part of you aching, knowing that he was entirely real and yet not yours. But still, you admired the way he looked so young, so intense, so ethereal as he dreamed.

You loved him.

Eventually, when you decided to leave, you pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling at the way his lips were exactly as you had imagined:

Supple, warm, and tasting of his mint toothpaste.

But the nightly visits didn’t stop there.

Most nights, you found yourself in his room, laying by his side, merely watching as he slept. No orgasm in the world felt quite as fulfilling as the quiet that came with just watching the over-exhausted Aizawa sleep. 

But this is not a story of simple love, no, not at all.

Eventually, you began to grow bold. Your fingers sinking into your wet cunt, playing with your sensitive clit as you watched him sleep. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning as a rasped breath expelled from his mouth. You nuzzled into the warmth of his body heat through at you and only prayed he would one day acknowledge and return your affections.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure when you began to suck him off too.

Maybe it was the first time his cock grew long and hard in the middle of the night, his mind undoubtedly having a wet dream. So, as his beloved, you only thought it was appropriate to give his body what he wanted. With the skills and intentions that could only arise from being a gifted Pro Hero, you pulled the blankets from his body and pushed his cock through the slit in his boxers, and took him all in your mouth.

His cock was absolutely mouthwatering too.

So big, so thick, so incredibly veiny that you nearly lost all control the first time you saw it in all its glory. He was better than any dildo you owned, his scent alone driving you crazy. And so, as you should, you began to fuck him, completely addicted to his aroma, taste, and touch.

After the first night, you continued to blow him. Continued to suck him off as Aizawa let out sleepy moans, grunts that were strained, his body shifting unknowingly as you continued to go up and down his length, continuing to relieve him of his stress. 

But you were human.

A human with needs and desires, and eventually, his cum coating your throat and filling your stomach wasn’t enough anymore. Which is where we find ourselves now, unashamedly fucking Aizawa each and every night, your cunt swallowing him whole, without a single shred of doubt of what was wrong with this.

There wasn’t anything wrong with this, and you knew that even if he was asleep the entire time you fucked him, it was for the better.

“Wow, Eraser!” Mic yelled from your side as you sat on the couch next to your beloved best friend. “You look like you’re glowing!”

Looking up from your phone, attempting to portray yourself as curious and unknowing, you found your gaze falling onto Aizawa, who had returned from an early evening training session with his class. As a matter of fact, Aizawa’s face was glowing; he looked incredibly much more relaxed, much more than he has been since the beginning of this semester.

“What do you mean?” Aizawa asked, evidently unimpressed as a lone eyebrow raised.

You watched on quietly, lips pressing to your cup as you took a drink of your tea as he sank onto a seat in front of you. 

“Wait, don’t tell me, listeners!” Mic gasped dramatically, his hands pressing to his cheeks as he stood up. His expression of shock and disbelief curling and becoming one of knowing and understanding. “Does our grouchy, one and only, Aizawa Shouta, a.k.a. Eraserhead, have a special someone?!”

“Mic—” Aizawa snapped, his eyebrows furrowing.

“There definitely has been an after-sex glow that Eraser has had for the past few weeks. He did say that he’s been feeling more… ahem, relaxed,” Midnight gasped, seemingly appearing from nowhere, incredibly interested in the rumor of Aizawa having sex. 

“Just because I’ve been feeling less tense doesn’t mean that I’m having sex.”

You giggled into your cup as the three of them began arguing, Mic and Midnights naturally loud noise quickly drowning out Aizawa’s fruitless attempts to shut down any sexscapades they were coming up with. 

“Y/h/n, what do you think?!” Mic yelled, his hand pointed at you as if holding a microphone as Aizawa had him pressed and tangled within his capturing weapon. “Is Shouta-chan having sex?!”

Yes, your mind begs to say, but your mouth curls into a teasing smile, eyes locking onto Aizawa’s annoyed golden ones. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone on this earth that Aizawa currently wants to fuck six feet into the mattress when he’s so busy,” you chide, your smile never entirely disappearing. At the same time, you take a long slow drink from your cup while everyone else (Mic only, really) continued to scream.

But you stayed there for the rest of the evening, working in silence with the rest of the group as next week’s lessons were laid out. Through a persistent, entirely stubborn will, Mic managed to get Aizawa to admit that he hasn’t had sex since the time he lost his virginity, to which Mic admitted to having had sex via orgies only. Midnight proudly announcing that she had a side piece at her disposal. 

So as you checked through your lesson plans for the ethics book your students would be reading next week, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see their expectant gazes on you.

“I had sex last night,” you admit, unable to lie under their amused gazes.

“WITH WHO?! ARE YOU SNEAKING SOMEONE ON CAMPUS?!”

For the rest of the night, you smiled brightly, laughing with the rest of them all as talks and stories revolving around sex filled the air. It lasted until past midnight, and with a heavy sigh, Aizawa excused himself first. You waved goodnight, and soon Midnight left, followed by Mic.

You stayed on the couch, your own attention focused heavily on the time and not what you were supposed to be doing. It didn’t take much before the time faded from 00:00 to 01:45, and with a brush of your skirt, you headed precisely where you wanted and needed to be.

The walk to his second-floor room filled you with lust. Your body, like some Pavlovian dog, trained and knowing that you were about to fuck the love of your life while he slept. He was so beautiful while he slept, a true sleeping beauty. You especially thought he was stunning when he bit his lower lip, stifling a moan despite his heavy slumber.

Without so much as a second thought, you apparated into his room, your feet cushioned by the soft carpet of his room. And with a smile that was dripping with your love, you stared at Aizawa’s sleeping form. He was already deep in sleep, his body positioned on his back as if he knew what you were doing, accepting the inevitable actions you would take tonight as you did every night. He just looked so calm, so beautiful, so youthful when asleep. The scar under his eye almost invisible 

But unlike most nights where he slept in a soft cotton long-sleeved shirt and sweats, you froze at the sight of the tight black t-shirt on his sleeping form, the shorts that were riding just the slightest bit too low on his sturdy, muscled hips. Your bit your fist, a bubbling heat of lust, and a whine tickling the back of your throat as you take in his sleeping form.

He was doing this on purpose.

Teasing you with this outfit on his sleeping body.

You huffed, inexplicably turned on as the small puffs of air past his lips seemed to thunder around the room.

You were wet already, so very wet.

“You’re so mean, Shouta-kun,” you whimper softly, your voice silent and unheard by his sleeping form. You walk closer to the bed, lips pulled into a pout as you sit on the soft mattress.  “Dressing up like that, I know you did that to tease me!”

Aizawa doesn’t respond because, of course, he’s asleep. But you smile regardless, imagining a million and three things he would say in response, each leading to what you wanted to do so desperately.

“I hope you know you were lying when you said you haven’t had sex since you were twenty,” you sigh, your fingers expertly removing his shorts and boxers from around his waist, using your quirk to make them reappear to the side of him. “We have sex practically every night; you’re so horny, my angel.”

You watch with a curling smile as his cock immediately begins to stiffen against your warm breaths, his face scrunching in his slight discomfort as his cock grows and grows. His cock is undeniably one of your favorite parts of his body. It’s pale in color, paler than the rest of his body, but as it extended to the swollen thickness of his head, it grew darker, the flushed brown pinkness of his head making you salivate at the memory of the first time you ever saw it. His cock, unlike the rest of his scarred body, was unharmed, unmarred by the horrors of the job the two of you held. The thick, beautiful smoothness of his skin, making your eyes flutter in unadulterated lust, his cock a symbol of your pure, unmarked love for him. You hum, hand grasping his length and lazily stroking him as your head tilts, reading his sleeping features for any sign of him enjoying this as much as you do.

“Aww, Shouta-kun, I wish you knew I fuck you. I bet you would turn bright red, knowing that I ride you every night. Maybe you’d use that weapon of yours to teach me a lesson or two,” you mumble, your hand gripping his cock harder as you stroke him.

A small glistening drop appears at the slit of his dick, and you shiver in excitement; he was already leaking pre-cum. 

“Look at you, already ready to have my cunt wrapped around that big cock of yours,” you mewl, absolutely ready to mount him, prepared to have his sleeping form cum deep within you. You stand up, removing your shorts and panties, and climbing onto the bed.

With the balance of a pro, you get yourself hovering over him, your already wet cunt shivering with the expectance of having him deep within you. Your hand on his cock never once stopping as you tease yourself against his swollen head, your voice a pathetic whimper as your slick mixes with his clear pre-cum.

“S-See how embarrassing you are!” you huff, rutting his length between his folds, lubing him up for the initial entrance because, by god, it still hurt. “Making my pussy so wet! I’m practically dripping all over you!”

There’s only a soft breath from his lips, but you grin as if he was speaking to you.

“You want me too, huh?” you giggle, and without further adieu, you sink against him.

His cock entering your tight cunt was still as mind-numbing as the first time. His cock easily buries into the small, thin wall of your cervix, and you tremble as his length stretches and pulls at your throbbing core. You can feel every curve in his cock, every vein, every gentle throb.

“Glad t-to know you find me… nnghh… find me i-irresistible,” you pant, face flushed with your desire to adjust quickly around him.

The conversation from tonight had made you entirely weak in the knees and hot at your core, knowing that you were the only one to really have claimed Aizawa, the only one who would ever know how his sleeping body craved you as much as you desired him.

You give a tentative swirl of your hips, your eyes trained on Aizawa’s relaxed ones, testing to see how tired and sleepy he was. There was no reaction, no movement outside of the typical grunt at the back of his throat. It was a noise he always made when you first moved with him, a noise that quickly seared in the back of your memory forever.

Shifting your weight to be more comfortable on your knees, your hot hands fall onto his tight chest, and with a sigh of pure relief, you begin to fuck him.

Your straddling aided the deep penetration, allowing for the gentle kiss of the tip of his leaking cock to your thin cervix wall. You clenched tightly around him, unable to keep yourself from doing so as you rode him, the feeling of his throbbing member within you absolutely breathing taking as you placed your claim on him again, again, and again.

Aizawa was fully sheathed within you, and your fingers twisted and pulled at the tight fabric of his shirt, raising it up so that you could admire his taut, tense abdomen, mewling at the way he’s happy trail was thick and bushy. You wondered how he would react to your fingers threading through his body hair, if he would love it; if he would hate it. 

“I want you to know how much I love you, how much I would give everything to you!” you whimper, your head fighting the instinct to throw itself back as you begin to drop onto his still cock faster and faster. “I wish you knew that you fuck me so good, Shouta-kun; I need you to know that! But you won’t even look at me! You won’t spare me a single second of your busy day, so that’s why I have to fuck you at night!”

Tears of both pleasure and hurt well into your eyes; you sniffle as you fuck him faster, dropping onto his awaiting cock with more significant, more aggressive slaps. The sounds echo throughout the room, the musky, sweet smell of your sexes is the only thing keeping you sane — that and the grunting noises that Aizawa keeps emitting, it makes your toes curl and belly flutter in a funny way.

“I bet you’ll fuck me so good once I get you to love me! You’ll never stop fucking me, you’ll never want to leave me because only I know how to fuck you correctly!” you snap, anger and lust licking through your tone, making your eyebrows furrow and your walls to clench even tighter around him. The building tension in your stomach is like a fire, and you can feel your high coming. “But you fuck me so good, baby, so good and you’re not even awake!”

And for the first time, you watch in electrifying pleasure as a low, husky, raspy moan leaves his throat as you fucked him. The sound alone was something downright pornographic to you, and the whine that spills from your mouth is nearly inaudible with the pitch it vibrates at. So without so much as a second thought, a bubbling smile spreads on your face, and you continue on, energy and excitement doubled in your joy.

Your hips roll, rise, and fall against his with growing force and speed. The small creaks of the mattress completely ignored by you as the throbbing and twitching of his cock buried deep within you keeps you pushing for more. The heat and pressure in your belly grow exponentially, festering and burning until you can feel yourself at the tipping point until you can’t do anything but focus on Aizawa and only Aizawa, or else you would scream his name in your euphoria.

The veins on his cock and the overall girth of his length send your mind spinning, not at all helping your predicament, and in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself from crying so loudly you would wake up even the dead, you lean forward. Your sweaty body leaning down to his parted chapped lips as you kiss him to keep yourself silent as your orgasm crashes through you in a blissful wave. Your body spasms almost uncontrollably, the nerves and firing axons through your body uncontrollable as you lay there, allowing for Aizawa to cum before you leave. You shudder at the feeling of his cum emptying out within you, his cock immediately softening as you lay there on top of him. His heart racing with his orgasm, and you sigh contentedly.

“God, I love you so much, Aizawa Shouta; I’ll make you mine one day,” you swear, your nose nuzzling his stubbled cheek.

You lay there for some time, enjoying the way he feels in you, content with the pooling cum from your still spasming cunt. But eventually, you pull away. You pull on your panties and shorts quickly, not wanting a single drop more of his cum to seep out of you. Unable to help yourself, you lick the leftover cum on his cock clean with your tongue before wiping him down with a towel to prevent the smell from clinging.

Your eyes study Aizawa’s face just before you leave, and your smile.

He really does look less tired after orgasming.

But the entire time you were there — the whole night you fucked him and spoke to him — you missed the red blinking light of the camera recording in the corner of the room.

[cdroloisms]

originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3 

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages  and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

[akumaalert]

not a request just sharing bc i couldn't stop thinking of just "what if lucky called heis good boy" like how he calls her good girl sometimes but like.. i'm pretty sure he would break

This was supposed to be a mini-fic....but...uh....it'll likely be the first chapter of "Divergence" instead LMAO But hope you enjoy!

Good Boy

Karl Heisenberg x Reader, Explicit

CW: Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Happy Ending, Virgin!Karl Heisenberg

An AU happening during chapter 19 of "Heavy Metal Lover" but can be read without reading the main story.

"Unfh..."

That had been the first noise from Lucky besides the scratch of a pencil against paper that he had heard in about an hour.

Stuck in his office with her as he searched for a misplaced - not lost, just misplaced! - core schematic, Heisenberg tried to ignore the nagging thought of how domestic the space had become. Lucky never moved his things - something he was infinitely grateful for. He could recall too well his ever boiling frustration at having his room "cleaned" when living in the castle. The maids were well-meaning, but always adjusting. The room he had held would have felt more his own had he been able to move his own furniture around without the chambermaids fawning over him.

"No, no, young Lord Heisenberg! This is all wrong...off you go...go play...we will fix this mess."

Now on his own and in his element of chaos, he felt comforted, even if secretly so, that Lucky never seemed to complain.

Comforted...but cautious.

The day at the stronghold seemed stamped into his memory...right in the front for all to see. It remained a wonder Lucky didn't see it on his face.

The knowledge.

The horrible, horrible knowledge.

Love.

Staring at an old newspaper clip-out that he had saved with a picture of a modern car on its faded pages, he absently pushed the glasses back up his nose.

It tired him - the constant need to flip back and forth between acknowledging his feelings and thrusting them as far down as he could manage. Drowning them out with that beautiful sound of cinching machinery. Allowing them to seep into him with every laugh from her lips.

Heisenberg was starting to fall in love with the woman. The woman he had failed to kill - the lucky one to survive his maze. The woman his mother expected him to impregnate in order for Miranda's mad vessel to be born and to be killed all in the name of misery.

Misery otherwise known as Eva.

Slowly but certainly, Lucky was driving him insane. Reminding him of things he could never, ever have. Teasing him over and over for days on end.

Heisenberg remembered all too well his reason for entering the office. He had nearly sliced his own arm clean off his shoulder when he lost himself to his situation. To the possibility that, despite his body being so ill-suited for the task, Lucky could have his child. Would want his child. His thoughts, as they so often did, snapped back to the need for freedom - for the need for the arms to come loose from his latest corpse to transform them into one of his many soldiers.

But the more he thought of freedom, the more she sat in the background of his mind.

The more she sat there, the more his tired musings began to stitch together.

The more freedom and Lucky - the two dreams of his world - became intertwined.

He had been thinking of her - of Lucky - beside him the day that he won freedom from the village.

Won freedom...and her.

"You did it, Heis! You did it!"

Lucky would never know how dear it was to him...the fact that her emotions ran so freely with her very being. Beaming. She would do nothing less than beam at him. Her eyes would glow and crinkle at their tails as they did when she gave him her most genuine smiles.

"You did it. You're free. Our...our family is free."

"...family?"

She would grab his hand. Just one. He needed the other steady on her cheek.

Lucky would bring that hand clasped in her own to her belly.

"Our family..."

"Our...another...another Heisenberg?"

In his dreams, she shyly escaped his gaze to nod.

"You...you haven't been alone. Not with me. Not with the start of our family. But now...now, Heis..." Her eyes popped back up all soft and sincere. "Now you'll never be alone again. Not with our baby Heisenberg on the way..."

The only break from his reverie was the slice to one of his favorite stained t-shirts. Only the fact that it was Heisenberg's powers directing the saw had it falling to the floor instead of through his tensed skin.

Heisenberg could only stand in shocked silence. The arm that had been spared from the violence came to grab his shoulder. Though no injury had occurred, he felt stabbed all the same.

Family...and joy?

Lucky...with him?

Another Heisenberg...alive?

A thought washed over him like ice entering his veins.

A boy or a girl...would we have a boy or a girl first?

First.

As if Lucky wished to be objected to more of his perverted and preposterous daydreams.

When he left the room, the metal was still shaking.

"Gotta get that fucking schematic...keep forgetting it...keep going to the office and...fuck...keep talking to her. Gotta stop fucking talking to her. Schematic. Get the fucking schematic."

Lucky had been asleep in bed when he first entered. A rushing relief to his soul. But as the search for the schematic went from flipping through one file to frantically reshuffling the wayward stack the paper should have been in, he knew it was only a matter of time before she would appear.

"Oh...ah!" Lucky yawned all cute and squeaky. "Good morning, Heis."

"Morning," he said flatly. "You...you move any of these lately?"

"No," she said sleepily. "I don't touch those...way above my pay grade. What are you looking for?"

"Core schematic," he grumbled. "Not fucking here...where the hell did I put it?"

Though Lucky made a very pointless questioning noise, she said nothing as she sat down and began her daily transcriptions. Hell, he had been grateful. She showed concern because she was simply a good person beneath all of the trauma and the terror she had reigned on his self-image. But she didn't pry or attempt to enter his space afterward where she would clearly only be in the way.

But that was before her second moan filled the office.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, never looking up from his stack of papers.

A frustrated sigh and a grumble came from the desk chair.

"Think I slept on my neck funny last night," she said. "Doesn't help that my posture is shit. Just making it impossible to find a good angle to work in."

Growing agitated at his fruitless search, Heisenberg whipped around to look at her. "Want some help?"

"Mmn?"

"Want a massage or something?" he offered. "A...ha! You'll find this funny. Supersized one up in the castle? Used to love to make me massage her neck when I was a kid. Fucking manual labor when I was barely old enough to write. Had maids to do it - an assload at that - and forced me to instead."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Lucky frowned. "Was it...did she...did she hurt you? Like...if you didn't do it?"

"Ah nah," he said, taking careful steps over to Lucky. "Told you...when I was a kid, I was off limits. I whine about it now...but...well...I was a kid. Bitch loves kids. So I had to massage her back...but only part of this stupid salon thing we used to do together. It was nothing. Stupid. Just like her."

He did not know what to make of Lucky's face. Tilting her head, she steadied a look on him that could only be called curious.

"It's...it's a good memory? Of Alcina when you were small?"

Heisenberg scoffed.

"It's a memory," he said, standing behind Lucky with a wide stance and an even wider stare at her neck. "Not good or bad...just...there. Now...where's it hurt, kid?"

Raising a hand, Lucky placed her fingers on a section of her neck before swirling her touch.

"Ah...there...like just this one spot, but fanning out..."

"Okay...looks like your C7."

"My what now?"

Chuckling, Heisenberg moved her hand out of the way. "Your C7 vertebrae. Duck your chin down so I can get in here properly."

Doing as she was told, Lucky's head moved forward and Heisenberg placed his gloved hands against her neck. His thumbs encased the pained area and began to move in slow yet sturdy circles.

Lucky immediately began squirming.

"Can you maybe try without the gloves?" she asked. "Those are like...rough or something."

Casting off his gloves quickly, Heisenberg rolled his shoulders before trying again. "Wah, wah, wah...doing you a favor and you're out here complaining. That better, your highness?"

"Yes, actually," she said, relaxing. "And thank you. Asshole."

Puffing air out of his mouth, Heisenberg merely shook his head as he kneaded her skin.

"Mmn!"

Heisenberg tried to hide his stillness by immediately starting to massage her skin again.

But the noise could not be ignored.

"What was that?"

"Your hands...they're so warm. Fuck...feels good."

"Oh..." he said dumbly. Blinking down at her, he turned his head away as he kept his fingers in motion.

The fact that his cock had begun to waken in his pants was not lost on him.

"Are you using your electric powers? Is that why it feels so good?"

"Nah...really shouldn't do that on the living above the waist."

Above the waist...but below the waist...

"Ah," he continued, running his teeth over the scar on his lower lip. "Cause of the heart or whatever. Probably your brain too from this angle. Could fry both without meaning to. And I was working...earlier. Probably why they feel hot."

Lucky sighed as he continued to work her neck. His fingers were sweeping but slow. He had started off so intently and so rough. What had happened?

I felt her skin. Felt her beneath me. Felt her neck...for all she knows I could snap it right now and instead of being afraid she's welcoming me...she trusts me...trusts me enough to let me do this...

The next round of his fingers on her neck dipped into skin purposeful in their worship.

Her response was immediate.

"Oh...oh...good boy," she whispered.

To say he was lost for words was like calling water wet.

Though he kept his massage in a rhythmic round, his eyes were wide as they could possibly be behind his glasses. So wide that they hurt.

What the hell did she just do to me?

If he had to go off of physical injury, he would say she punched him in the stomach with all the force of a train running at full speed.

If he had to go off of an attack to his psyche, he would say she wormed her way into some long buried and forgotten wire that sent his entire brain into overdrive.

If he had to go off the erection now straining against his paints, he would say that he was royally fucked.

"You really are so good at this," she said, her voice still breathless. "Good boy...my good boy, Heis."

Heisenberg snatched his hands away as if Lucky were lava.

"Wait! No...what's wrong?" she asked, turning slightly to look at him.

If she looks down...if she sees...

"GOTTA TAKE A SHIT!" he exclaimed suddenly.

Lucky's mouth dropped open as she gaped at him.

Then she nodded with a laugh playing at her lips.

"Yeah. Go. Just come back and finish your massage."

Before he could finish blinking, he found himself storming down the hallway.

Well...intending to storm. His gait was impacted a bit by his dick standing at full mast and his hands hurriedly attempting to unbuckle the straps around his pants.

So FUCKING dumb. A shit? Really? he thought, visibly grimacing. It would have probably been less embarrassing to admit I was about to jack it to her calling me hers.

Hers...her good boy...good...I'm her good boy...hahaha...

What am I? A fucking dog?

...don't answer that.

Rushing into the break room, he considered the couch before catching sight of the bathroom. With a flick of one wrist as his other hand pulled his cock from his underwear and pants, Heisenberg slammed open the bathroom door.

He managed to slide his pants down his legs as he sat on the toilet and closed the door with the weakest of hand movements.

Finally free from judgment, Heisenberg hissed as he fumbled his glasses to the nearby counter and took himself into his hand.

"Good boy...her good boy...fuck...fuck yeah I am, baby..."

A groan and a grunt fell from his lips as he jerked his hand along his shaft.

All too often this act had been nothing but release from tension. An exploration so technical and so tedious as to be boring. But now with Lucky at his side and in his bed - however platonically she slept there - the images that plagued him seemed vibrantly real and tempting in their joyful teasing.

Imaginings - hopes and dreams and fantasies - that he could only cling onto in the moment.

The desk.

He would take her right on that same desk she was taking notes on.

"Oh, Karl," she would say, despite not knowing his first name. "Gonna be my good boy?"

"Yes," he said aloud, eyes closing and mind prickling with sights of her and waves of pleasure.

Lucky would be splayed on his desk - lying on her back and presenting herself to him as if she were a meal to be consumed instead of a darling treasure to worship.

"That's good...only good boys are allowed to fuck me. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes...yes...god fucking damnit. YES." Huffing and hating the tremble in his thighs, Heisenberg bucked into his hand. "Yes...only me...wanna be your good boy. I'll be so good for you. Only you, Mein Schatz..."

A dirty laugh from her lips. The Lucky of his dreams becoming more and more defined as she palmed one breast and teased her clit with the fingers of her other hand.

"Mmm...know what you're saying you know...my treasure...that's so cute...been feeling the same way about you lately...thinking of you...dreaming of you...my good boy want to tell me what else he's been feeling? Mmn? Big boy wanna tell me before you put your cock inside of me?"

Lips loose along with his pleasure, Heisenberg found he could not build his voice to say the words aloud.

So he mouthed them instead. Mouthed them and stuttered in his quest for pleasure as his hand curled about his shaft at the "lah" tipping silently from his tongue.

"Oh, darling..." A smile. She'd smile. Genuine and sweet and sincere and all for him. "I love you too, Karl."

"Mmnnn....ah...fu-UCK!" With a panicked inhale, Heisenberg quickly pinched the head of his cock to prevent his end from coming too soon. "No, no, no...not yet...not yet...please..."

Though the pleasure was unlike anything he had previously experienced and his calves clenched in protest of a release delayed, his oncoming orgasm stalled and began to fade.

"Such a good boy," said Lucky, eyeing him in his fantasy like she would look at a drink of water on a hot day. "That's right. You don't come until I tell you to. Understand?"

A nod of his head.

"Good, good boy. My good boy. Good Karl. Come on...think it's time you got your treat...here...I'll help you..."

With her fingers moving to fully expose the inside of that wet and preciously pink pussy of hers, Lucky looked up at him with a lidded look.

Heisenberg had no experience with another person when it came to handling his physical pleasure. Hell, with any pleasure or positive feeling at all. Except maybe the triumph of victory over others, he had never had the chance to experience happiness - true happiness and trust and faith in another soul.

Until her.

And for her...for her he would indulge and give himself freely...if only locked away inside of his mind.

Inexperience taking a back seat to passion, he pictured himself guiding his cock into her waiting and welcoming body. Maybe he would steady himself with a hand on her hip or simply with a heated stare into her eyes.

He all but strangled his cock to try to mimic a feeling he had never known and had never thought to miss before her.

"Uh-huh," whined Lucky in his dreams. "Oh...you're so big...fill me up just right. So fucking thick..."

"Hah...ah...your good boy big enough for you?"

"Yes...oh yes...yes...so big...such a perfect dick...please...please Karl...Heis...please, baby, please...Heis?"

When he began to rut into his own hand with a purpose, he felt flames like that of standing directly beside the blaring crucible dancing across his cheeks. Though some of his daydream seemed vague and hard to read, he had enough to know that he could not delay the inevitable for much longer. Lucky - the real and actual Lucky - was still waiting for him back in the office. Waiting and none the wiser to his desperate need for her affection. It sickened him - the want for anything and everything to do with her.

Sickened him...and sent electric shocks of white pleasure down his spine.

"So fucking perfect...you're so fucking perfect for me, Lucky...oh..."

"Heis..."

"Huh...ah...already so close...so damn worked up...can't stand it...can't stand you looking like that..."

"Like what?"

Heaving and heatedly squirming where he sat, Heisenberg noticed for the first time that one of his boots jutted up and down on the floor beneath him. As if his entire body refused to be still.

"Most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen," he bit out. "Please...please, Luck...I know it's soon...but please..."

A tilted head and a gentle grin. A pointer finger that danced around her clit and drew his eyes away only long enough for her to breathe out shallow and short. His eyes snapped back to hers immediately.

"Please what?"

"Please let me come...let me come inside you...wanna...wanna take you...claim you...don't want you with anyone else ever again."

Glinting eyes and lush eyelashes.

"You're gonna be all that to me, Heis? Well...in that case..."

Her lips finding his own. His very first kiss - albeit imaginary. Her lips soft but without taste. His own lips puckering even as they trembled from the need for more.

"In that case," she continued, taunting him in his ear. "Come, Heis. Be a good boy and come for me."

Hindsight would have him chastising himself for not thinking to grab some tissue. In the moment, however, he was too busy panting and watching his cum dot the floor in thick strips. Heisenberg growled...tried to hold on to the image of her with one eye still closed.

Reality settled in on him. Settled in even as his stomach quivered underneath his shirt and his orgasm began to relax into his bones. It was pleasant and his every nerve seemed to stand on edge. Tingles of pleasure radiated from his chest to his feet flat against the floor. Gulping in air, he knew he had never come so hard before in his life. It was good...great even.

But it was not her. It was not enough.

Clean up was a quick and tedious affair. Lucky could not know what he had done in her quarters. The tissues he found too late to wipe his seed from the floor were tossed and flushed away. He checked the room once and then again once his shades were back on his face.

Finishing the belt at the top of his pants, he cleared his throat before exiting.

The television in the break room still hummed though it sat completely dead in the meager light from the ceiling.

Shit...glad she wasn't in here. Never had anyone here to care about when I got down to business...no telling what my powers do with electronics...

The schematic. He had to find that damn schematic.

Trying to level his breathing as he stalked the hallway, Heisenberg considered the day before him. Lucky had not wished to attend a revitalization attempt with him yet. While he didn't intend to push her into seeing something that might scar her again, it might be worthwhile to have her eyes in the room at some point. She hadn't complained about the notes yet. Maybe he should offer? Make it sound like a small deal and let her in when it was near completion? Give her a taste before exposing her to more?

Fucking stupid...it's all so fucking stupid...what happened to me? If she were any assistant, I would just drag her ass there and have her record the whole thing. Fuck me with all this concerned shit.

But she's not just any assistant...

Entering the office, he stilled at the doorway when he saw Lucky facing him from her chair.

"Uh...hey," he said, licking his lips. "Sorry about that. Took...ah...let's just forget it."

"Actually," she began. "I need to be honest with you. Because of what happened before..."

Eyebrows shooting up, he stood in silence before she continued.

"Um...so...I was sitting here...sitting here and trying to rub my neck or whatever..."

"Yes?"

"Well...the radio came on and it freaked me out a little bit..." She paused, her fidgety look dropping to the floor. "But...the more I listened...the more I...recognized your voice."

"My...my voice?"

"Yes."

Heisenberg could not move. He shouldn't be looking at her, but he was afraid if he blinked that the tension would break and she would begin laughing or cursing or, worst of all, apologizing.

"Umm...it...I heard you. And I guess you were...I guess it was real time." A tent of her fingers and a swallow in her throat. "I heard your comment and responded and...I think...I think you could hear me too. Possibly? You seemed to...seemed to be replying to what I said directly."

Shame. Shame for a million years fell on his shoulders that had felt so light before.

"Where?" he managed to say. "Where did you come in? What comment did you respond to?"

How she looked at him, he had no idea. She was far braver than he could ever be. Heisenberg planned to face down Miranda without a single hesitation one day on that glorious battlefield where his freedom could be won.

But now? Faced with Lucky standing and walking toward him with the full weight of her eyes upon him?

He looked away.

"You said...you asked me if my good boy was big enough for me."

The purr in her voice. The sound of her steps growing closer. The burn in his throat.

"After that," she said. "I called your name...I...responded to you and you to me."

"That didn't...I..." He shook his head. "I...umm..."

"Can I hold your hand?"

Head shooting up, Heisenberg caught her heated look. The same heated look she had worn in his dreams.

He nodded. Nodded even though he barely registered it until she took his hand and steps to press herself flush against him.

When she spoke, it was hushed and low.

For him and him only.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom...freshen up. Since we know you can communicate from the radio to the television...I want you to tell me when it's okay to come back here. I'm giving you two options."

Heisenberg hung on her every word and looked at her as if she controlled his every movement.

"The first...you can leave. Can give me enough time to go there...find what you were looking for...then tell me you're off to do whatever. I won't mention this again. We won't mention it."

Silence fell between the two of you. A crackle of the radio to the side of the room.

"And the other option?" he asked, voice nearly breaking.

A shy look. A happy tilt of her lips.

"The other option...you can rest for a bit before I come back here and make whatever fantasy you were having come true."

A mouth drier than dry left his tongue feeling too large. Too large and too needed to swipe across his lips.

"You don't have to answer now-"

"The second one," he said. "Second one. Want that one. Screw the first one."

A bright and happy smile. A smile that crinkled the tail of her eyes and lit up her face.

She was beaming at him. Squeezing his hand before parting from him.

Not for long...not for damn long if he could help it.

"You give me the word then, good boy," she teased, walking out of the room.

Legs nearly buckling and sending him to the ground, Heisenberg took uneasy steps to his office chair before throwing himself on it. His entire body buzzed, though it seemed far less like electricity and far more like promise and hope. Not love on her end...not yet. But a maybe. Potential.

More.

Grinning stupidly and looking at the desk, he made quick work of clearing the area for the fun he planned on having from his daydream to come true.

As soon as he picked up the recorder Lucky used to transcribe his notes, Heisenberg saw it.

That damned schematic.

His last visit to this same room. A note on said schematic stating "DON'T FORGET" in large words. A note he carelessly put there before guiding Lucky to sit down to look at her transcriptions and laugh with her over the sixth stable boy in one week to die of drunken stupidity.

Quietly and contentedly, he opened the desk drawer to stuff the schematic inside.

"Mmn...don't think I'll need you for a while yet actually..." Eyeing the radio on the wall, Heisenberg tossed his glasses to the table and tried to slick and perfect the wiry hair about his head. "Oh, Lucky, honey...room is ready whenever you are...and so is your good boy."

[rotshop]

GONNA B HONEST W/ YOU ,,,,,, i rlly dont like how this is written lmao ,,,, but also im sleepy tired so i get a pass dhmu /j

[ TW ; gore, some violence, death ]

notes ; based offa DIS ,,, u might wanna read it for some context n shit ,,, lawl ,,,

-

Between the two of you, it's hard to tell who's suffocating more. It's hard to tell if its you, with the little pants that pass by your teeth in shaky steps, hitching whenever they're cut down when you have to stop to cough up blood. It should be you, you who has your guts spilled out onto the floor and your blood staining all the concrete underneath the both of you. It has to be you, who's leaning heavy against 2b's chest and drawing unfocused circles onto his shoulder. It had to be you, you just had to go inside by yourself, you just had to be slow on the draw and nearly be ripped clean in two. It just had to go wrong with just you.

Even with all that in mind, he feels like there's nothing in him. There's no lungs to draw in breaths, no mind with clear thoughts on what to do and how to stop this once more, and certainly no heart beating steadily. In those places was instead viscera, a mangled, nameless mess of pink and red weighing him. There was some clump of pink that drew in some shaky puffs, barely reaching him as he choked on his own pride. There was nothing but tangled strings and weights in his head, making his skull pound as something in the back of his mind screamed to do something. There was a heavy weight behind his ribs that stayed put, a finality hanging over his shoulder as it always would.

He doesn't want to cry. He shouldn't be, you're the one with your innards exposed to the eyes of any and all and your face buried in the crook of his neck, it should be you who's crying in pain. He shouldn't be crying, he shouldn't be shedding tears when there's not a single bleeding wound on his skin. He shouldn't be and yet they're tight in his throat, threatening to tumble past his lips and create an embarrassment of himself. A shift brings him back from his thoughts, turning his attention back to you.

There's a little stutter in your movements, a quick pause as your vision momentarily fails you and your breath is wheezed past your lips. A quick, aimless grasp at your innards to have them follow your movements, rather than stay partially stuck to the floor, tugged further from your soon-to-be-cadaver as you readjust. You're just pulling yourself ever closer to him, little to no space left between the two of you as you support yourself on his figure. He can't help the way his own movements choke and pause as he moves his arms to wrap around you. He can't help the way he takes a sharp, shaking inhale as the skin of his arm ghosts over the start of your gash.

He remembers the first time he'd been with you in your 'final' moments. He remembers how the line had fallen dead on your side and the others all fell into a silence. They'd only told him later on why, they 'didn't want to scare him off.' He was still a little upset about it, even now. He had always been stubborn like that, it was a fact of him that you regarded with warm laughter and endearing teases.

He remembers the pure terror that'd gripped him as he came across you, choked squeaks and hisses leaving your lips as you writhed. The debris around you and the tangle of pipes and bars you'd been impaled on told the story he never bothered to ask, the one he'd never truly questioned you on even to this day. Something about the way you'd glanced at him in that moment never left him. Maybe it was how the pure agony you'd been in moments before shifted to confusion on his being there, shifted into something gentler yet still as forlorn and miserable, either way it haunted him endlessly. He remembers how you were such polar opposites after he'd managed to tear himself from his place.

The clatter of his goggles against the ground fell on deaf ears when he'd rushed for you. He barely even noticed how quick his breath was speeding up, he was far too focused on helping you, on getting you back to base so he could fix this. It'd taken your weak swipes at him and breathless pleads to just stop to snap him back, he didn't want to listen to you. He wanted to tear you from that metal and drag you back to base, he wanted to set you down and get to work, and then he wanted to grab you by the collar and ask just what was going through your head. He wanted to be mad, he wanted to argue and to let go of all the tension wracking him and making his hands shake. It was tearing him limb from limb in the worst way possible, in the one way he never wanted to feel.

He was afraid. Honest to god terrified from the moment his gaze fell on your bleeding-out form. It shook him to his core in a way he hadn't felt in forever, breaking past the facade he'd worked so hard to build in an utterly humiliating manner. He hated the way he had to clench his hands and bite his tongue as he stared down at you, his weak attempt at keeping his tears back that hung by a thin string. He hated how he fell to his knees, coming face to face with you as you looked back at him.

Your eyes were still soft with accepting misery in the moment, a weak smile finding it's way onto your lips as you reached for him. You'd struggled, finding it difficult to meet his face when the world was spinning so dizzyingly. He'd hesitated, hand shaking as it found your wrist, him leaning into your touch with an unsteady breath. If the tears weren't already hanging behind his eyes, they would've burst up with a vengeance when you started brushing your thumb over the bandages on his face.

He couldn't remember how exactly you'd spoken, how you'd been able to between the gurgle of blood in your throat and the copper piercing you, but you had. It was a request ; a final wish of sorts he didn't want to deny you. You could've asked for anything in the moment and he would've done it for you, he would tear through whoever and whatever he had to for you. He would rend flesh and ruin relationships and scar the world if he had to in that very moment. He'd never been an especially generous type, he could extend a certain amount of kindness to others but there was a limit to his softness. Yet, you managed to turn him so, managed to make him give an excuse of 'it wouldn't hurt,' or 'it's just a one time thing,' when it came to you.

Even so, you'd made such a simple request. One he would've asked you himself in other circumstances if he weren't so stubborn with what little ego he clung to. One he would've been happy to hear from you in the comfort of home and privacy. Even so, he'd nodded when you asked. Even so, he'd ignored how his own hands shook as he held his over yours gently.

It was an odd feeling, your blood seeping into his mouth, iron heavy on his tongue as his lips met yours. The taste would've been revolting under any other circumstances, making him recoil and pull away with a note to never repeat the cause. Yet, he didn't. He kept his lips against yours gently, experience slipping him in the thick anxiety of the moment. Even then, reluctance followed when he pulled away.

Content lost its footing when you'd given him once last smile, then it fell with a crash when your gaze grew glassy and unfocused. He'd never forget the panic that gripped him so tightly, enough of a disturbance to slip past his guard and make the tears start to fall. He didn't even notice them in the moment, all he saw was your corpse and the end of the compassion and emotion you'd helped him regain over time. He never asked the others if they heard him then, if they heard him plead with you, if they heard the sobs and begs he never would've given if it weren't you. He's glad they never brought it up, it was just a touch easier to forget how he'd completely broken down for the first time in a long time when you'd fallen still.

He was glad you weren't able to hear them. He's sure you would've made some dumb comment about it as you stood before him, alive and well as though nothing happened. He's sure you would've smiled and hummed a question he wouldn't answer, he's sure he would've reacted all the same. He's sure he still would have grabbed you by the collar and shoved you back against the wall, he's sure he would've still hissed at you to explain yourself, ignoring the desperation laced in his voice as his eyes began to burn again. You had an effect on him, one he wouldn't ever admit to even if you poked and prodded at it time and time again by simple virtue of you being yourself.

You were a surprisingly good kisser for someone on the brink of death once more, but you were better at it when you could count how many of him there were.

He's not sure what pulls him back as he looks down at you again, noting your still form blankly. He's not sure why he pauses for a few long moments, simply keeping his arms around you as your body grows colder and colder. He's not sure why he tucks hair behind your ear and lets his hand linger, warm by contrast against you. He's not sure when he pulls himself up off the floor, careful of your innards as he pulls you up with him.

He is however sure he feels a hell of a lot better when you sit up from your previous place on the table, hand trailing over the stitches that line your stomach and chest as you give a little hum of approval. He's sure he's smiling a little at that simple bit of praise. He's sure you'd make a comment about it if you noticed.

"Happy to see me, huh?"

He's happy to be right.

[sofijaeger]

hey, it's my first time doing any request so i'm little embarrassed but i'm excited too!! i love your writing so much<33 i had this in my mind for a while

Eren's s/o kissing his palms/hands or the spots where he usually bites his hand when he's about to transform

it can be anything(like drabble/headcanons etc. i hope you get me😭) once again I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM!!

that is so frickin adorable STOP I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BRAIN🥺 you can always request things to me, i’m not sure how soon i’ll get onto them but i will try my best and i love hearing from you!

okay i’m actually really proud of this one haha! the drabble will take place during the reclaim of shiganshina arc if that’s alright, and psa i scared myself writing a certain line because i had no clue how i was going to proceed after implying a major death LMAO. i think you’ll know what line i’m taking about but don’t worry nothing happens lol.

warnings: angst... IM SORRY🥲

words: 1.1k

kissing vow ~ eren x reader

Dawn quickly rose over the well-known territory. The part of land that was whispered upon for years ever since its fall, and a place strangely familiar to all your ears and hearts even if you hadn’t traveled there yourself. After the trip into the midnight wilderness you had arrived for a mission far greater than any other, and it was clear there were no visible signs of doubt from anyone.

Except for of course, the young boy with more pressure on his chest than anyone, one you cared for very dearly who’d call almost every shot with his actions. He was frightened beyond compare, so as the last few squads stood atop Wall Maria, urgently waiting for any signal, Eren was practically pissing himself right then and there. He had returned, devised a plan with all the leading commanders in just a few days, and was now preparing to risk his life for his homeland and people. There was no moment of rest for him or any of you. Besides the constant worry of succeeding the mission this very well may be the last time any of you see each other again.

You shout out his last name, once, twice, as he was too far in his own head to hear your first call and jog to him, gripping your delicate fingers over his shoulders. In the years you’ve spent together as scouts those small releases of tension-touching had become a clear sign you wanted each other’s attention, and you both caught onto the gesture quite quickly. Eren softened his eyes in your presence to notion just how focused he was on you. His subconscious would always allow his gaze to wander to you and what you had to say, he felt calmer that way.

“I already see you getting all inside your head, I thought talking about this on the journey here would be enough for you?” you whisper, leaning your head a little closer in attempt to understand what possibly was rumbling through his mind now.

“What if we lose”

“What?”

“I can’t bear to see us all lose! If we waited a little longer, a few more days, maybe we could have advised a plan that wouldn’t risk half the corps’ lives!” He tangled his hand in his hair, gripping the shaggy strands already coming loose from the stress he overdrove himself into. Your hands soften against the thick cloth of his cape, frowning at the few tears pricking his eyelids.

“Er, you’re more than welcome to cry to me later, just not now.” you chuckle.

“How are you so sure there’ll be a later y/n.”

You mouth opens before you can process your words, watching his cheek crane over to rest on the back of your hand that still lay against his collar. Here was humanity’s savior more worried than everyone minutes before call, but that you were perfectly fine with. This side to him was all the more proof that he was human, no matter what people labeled his being as.

“How am I sure? Bold of you to question my predictions Jaeger.” you exaggerate, placing your hands on your hips in a sneer. “I’m certain i’ll come back alive, and why? Because your protecting me with ever passionate fiber in your body, just as you will everyone else. You’re fighting for our justice against these monsters, the ones with no mind or cause. You have a cause to fight Eren and you have a heart too, a damn big one if I do say so myself. It’s the reason we support you with in the entireties of our own.”

With that, you intertwine your fingers around his right thumb, softly calloused to the touch he notes time and time again, and place it in front of your mouth to kiss. His body tenses at the feeling, but his eyes widen when he realizes where exactly you’ve placed it, your trust in him, where you’ve unknowingly hinted your years of growing affection for the boy in the heap of a split second.

Over the bitten scars littered down his radial.

He looks at you in confirmation of what he thinks it meant, and smiles into those fierce doe eyes of yours. A genuine emotion he hasn’t felt in months through grieving and loss, but could so easily melt into again with you.

So yes, he held a dangerous power, but it was all his. Something his true self was a part of that no one should ever neglect, and he found all the support he needed within the soldier right before him.

“Knock em dead Ren, do your best for everyone who’s lived and who will continue to. None of us would be standing here without you, so your presence alone is precious to us...

...We all believe in you, I believe in you.”

You guide his palm to your cheek, nuzzling into its claminess. As he engraves the plush feeling of his fingertips to your skin, a green smoke signal is fired.

And even when Eren was positive not everyone could be saved, he was reminded the ones following the biggest goals in the end would persevere and care for each other just as you had for him. He was confident you’d all succeed that way.

Like Armin now does over Commander Erwin,

Or little Gabi rather than Sasha, no matter what unjust brainwashing she believes.

But him or you, who would risk their own life caring for whom they loved most?

That was one thing he never wanted to find out.

Now he slouches in a rotten, stoned cell, contemplating what could’ve changed if only he had tried a little harder, or had this all been fate from the start?

His hand resting in his lap catches his glance, peering down at the bite marks still evident across his thumb. Surely if the marks he made as a teen persisted your kiss would too.

He slowly brings his hand up, cautious of any guards mistaking the move for another transformation, and presses his lips against the same spot you had. He closes his eyes at the warmth, sensing it was still emitting from your own lingering touch years ago. Unfortunately there had been no more little kisses, subtle clues of affection from either of you ever since. He liked those hints he really did, but now he was sure you stood a few floors above him, devising a plan to put an end to his scheme rather than caring over his emotions.

Weren’t you the one who told him to keep going though?

Perhaps if he had told you his motives beforehand rather than keeping them inside. How he appreciated every act of tenderness you gave him, more than anything he’s experienced before, how all this time he’s fought on this battlefield people called the world, for you and everyone else. Maybe then you’d stay out of his way and let him succeed, but his actions had no time for feelings or explanations. The freedom he desperately searched for in the future held no care for the past.

Yet he could never lie to himself and think you didn’t love him still, even after all this time. And Eren couldn’t deny anything about his own feelings for you, it’s what kept him going.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Blood In A Blacklight

Katara has a criminal empire to run, a family to protect, and plenty of shadows from the past who want to tear it all down.

Part 1: The Wind Howls (1/2) - She has him back, and everything should be perfect now, but it’s not. She’s more worried than ever. And she hasn’t slept in days.

********************************

A/N: Mafiosa!Katara and Gaang™ gang because I want it and am willing it into existence. Basically took “Sokka and I, we’re your family now” and made my take on a bending-mafia-families AU lmao

Words: 1,748

********************************

Katara punished her book for the weather and nearly tore it when she flipped the page. The words blurred again. She glared, hoping to become a firebender and burn a hole through the damn thing.

The door opened without a knock, and the frame of her vision shook, bordering on crimson. Mercy was still a foreign concept, and nearly ninety-six hours awake had mutilated her ‘moral code’ into watery dough. A few twitches of her fingers closed her hand around veins and arteries, but her bending recognized her intruder’s old blood and fresh wounds before she could register why her power wasn’t listening. It was worse than a tranquilizer. Worse than chloroform in a black alley. Aang’s heartbeat pinned her to her seat and ripped out her fangs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Katara remembered that time was a thing that would still pass whether or not she kept breathing. Fresh rain met the wall of windows behind her. Her thumb dragged over the ear of the page. She crawled into the dull thump of his heartbeat and sank into her chair, hiding in his rhythm like it was a cave.

The soft click of the door startled her like it was a strike of lightning, stuttering her breath and rallying her instincts to probe for the nearest skein of water. She shifted, impatient for him to be closer, waiting for enemies to burst from the shadows.

She re-read the same paragraph until he limped — badly, on the left side — to her desk. He paused, thinned Katara’s sanity, and sat in one of the leather chairs across from her. His silence filled the room with static. The full moon taunted her with power for all the wrong problems. The storm put a distance of hisses and low rumbles between them, bleating her pulse against the drums of her ears.

“What are you doing?” Aang gently asked.

Katara propped her head on her fist, her voice like paint peeling from the side of an old ship. “I’m reading.”

“You’ve been staring at that page for seven minutes.”

“I’m reading slowly.”

“You’re sulking.”

She almost looked up. “I am not sulking.”

“And now you’re lying.”

Something made a spark, and Katara slammed her book, still open, on her desk. “I am not lying.”

Her almost-shout did things that the thunder could only dream of, but before Katara could retreat, Aang leaned forward, onto her desk, mirroring her posture and leaving inches between their faces. It brought the smell of the wind in his clothes, and his element tickled her frayed hair from her cheek. His presence was warm. In every way. Warm hues, warm feelings, warm heartbeat, warm memories—

It took longer for the crimson to leave her vision this time. The thin wound wasn’t the worst, but it was the most noticeable, crawling across his face and over the bridge of his nose like a comet touching from beneath one eye to under the other. It was a bleach-white horizon that his eyes sat just above, but what he leveled her with didn’t allow her the freedom to consider her to-kill list in detail.

Katara had been shot, captured, tortured, ransomed, and used as a bartering chip far more times than she dared to remember, but even oceans would part for the look that Aang gave her when she tried to dance around the truth with him and win. She scowled, not that it helped her. Intensity clouded his eyes in a smokescreen, and grey irises darted in short, sharp glances that wouldn’t have been noticeable if he was any further away.

Katara’s finger itched to turn the page. Aang’s breathing had been steady, but when he exhaled again, closing his eyes, it took the strength out of his shoulders and kicked her in the chest.

“You promised you would stop looking into this.”

Katara snapped the book shut and set it aside. “I told you to stay away from the hospital.”

“I had to see her. And you went there, too.”

He didn’t mention a name, but still, Katara’s nails dug into her hands and threatened to draw blood. She seethed, but her fire didn’t phase him. Always him. Only him. Even in her office she was powerless.

Lips pulled into a tight line, she took a calming breath and held it, waiting for it to start working. Aang didn’t look away. His smokescreen was looking more like a storm and shone lightning like steel blades clashing.

She knew what her glare did to good men, and she knew it didn’t work on him, but she looked away all the same. Her eyes found the book, and the pins and needles from her held breath suddenly became the cold gasps of a child who couldn’t run fast enough. She saw the splintering of ancient wooden doors and the darkness that spilled from them. She felt the ice of new irons and the strain they put on growing bones.

And the screams. There should have been screams…

Katara blinked and was back in her office, greeted by the sheets of bullets on her windows and the warm heat of Aang’s attention. She looked at him. He was the same as her gaze had left him.

She didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but she was so tired of losing. “What were you thinking, Aang?”

“Katara, you’re scared and angry and hurt and I get it, but you don’t have to save me anymore. I’m right here.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing. If I don’t fight for you, then no one will.”

She had seen men recoil from a bullet through the heart, but Aang caught himself just before the stage of crumpling to the ground. His gaze dropped, staggering to her necklace and then to her desk. “…I guess you’re right.”

Katara scrambled to pick up his pieces. “That’s not what I—”

“I know.” He splayed his palm, pretending to read the lines. “You didn’t mean it.”

Lightning lit up the room, like a picture being taken. Katara combed back her hair, fiddling with her low ponytail, and gave up trying to keep her empty hands occupied. “Can you just—” She grabbed the air like she could hold onto the problem. “Can you just promise me that you won’t do something like that again? Please?”

It was the closest she had ever — ever — come to begging, but Aang kept his eyes on his palm. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’m not one of your goons to boss around,” he said, still without looking up, though his brow furrowed with a small crease.

“At least they know their limits. None of this would have happened if you had just let me handle it. This is my family, and that includes you, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you need me, too,” he said, with a soft voice that could shake a stadium. “And I might just be a speedbump to knock you on your ass and make you think twice before you do it anyways, but you’re my family too.”

The silence yawned, hissing with a thick but fine sheet of rain. If it weren’t for her desk, Katara would have hugged him. Probably. Doubt opened a pit in her belly, and her throat threatened to seal shut. Instinct and intuition went to war and left her with the sinking feeling that touching him would just prove how far away he was.

Aang still didn’t look up from his hand. Katara tried to find the right words and, more importantly, how to say them, but all she could manage after so many years of lying was a tender inflection of his name. “Aang…”

“They made me forget your face,” he said, deflating like saying it out loud finally made the scars real. His voice was watery, broken on the last vowel, and took a sledgehammer to Katara’s chest. “And now you…” He gestured. “Now you’re there and I’m here and…” The word died. He paused, then dragged his eyes up to hers. “You think of them when you look at me, so I see them, too. They scare me. And now you scare me. And I don’t want to be scared of you because I don’t want to stop looking at you. But it scares me. A lot.”

“I…Aang, I’m sorry—”

“I know. I know,” he said as he stood. His eyes roamed her empty desk, trying to find something of hers and settling on the book, which broke what was left of him. “…You didn’t mean it.”

Katara stood, but the desk was still in the way. “Aang, wait—”

“I'm going to take a walk to…,” he trailed, more in his own thoughts than in her office. “…I’ll get Zuko so you don’t worry.”

She should have gone after him. She should have done something, but her legs were pillars of cement. The door bled fluorescent yellow light into her twilight and took him, in his red and orange robes from across the world, with it.

Something cold crawled out of the old attic of where her heart was supposed to be. It cracked, weaving thin white scars — like his — in a web across her vision. She braced herself on the desk. There was nowhere to hide. No heartbeat. Not even a wound to distract her with its pain. She closed her eyes and bared her teeth and wished she had the strength to cry without him. Just this once, without him. She was so full and so empty and on the verge of combustion—

Something broke, something small, like a cornerstone, and Katara plopped into her chair. She breathed just like he taught her and eventually rubbed her face. Her bones ached. Everything ached. She was so tired of losing. She just wanted to sleep without knowing that she would wake up, still stuck in her worst nightmare.

Thunder growled above the city. Katara picked up the book. It was blurry, no matter how much she blinked. She dragged her nail over the scuff marks, feeling the minute pilling of old leather like a topographic map of the past.

Aang’s absence reminded her why she was reading, but she wasn’t sure if she could anymore. The book took on the weight of a planet, her arms even moreso.

Realization dawned slowly, like a dog attack in slow motion. The thought was a shadow bleeding out of the tall grass to fill her stomach with ice.

She peeled open the pages, praying to whoever would answer.

It burned. It burned like fire never could. It ate her away from the inside out, like cinders consuming a dry leaf in the time it took to blink.

The raindrops became smaller, like a mist, and gently brushed the windows. Standing was a miracle, but Katara dragged her feet around her desk, falling into Aang’s chair.

It was warm, like his shadow always was. She crawled into the footprint his life left behind, imagining his heartbeat in the hug of plush leather and the smell of salt and sand that reminded her where home was. Katara told herself to breathe and sank into the reasons why. Her legs curled beneath her, like when she was a girl, back when she wore her mother’s dresses to imagine herself a hero and not in three-piece suits to mask bloodstains.

She read the book slowly, from the beginning again, trying to love even the words that hurt. When lightning struck, she held it closer, trying to protect it, even though she knew that she couldn’t.

********************************

.

.

Don’t know if I described it well enough, but Aang’s ‘scar’ (quotes because it eventually seals up into a thin line) is supposed to be like the bottom arch of the Yu Yan archers’ tattoos.

[sombreboy]

Who’s your king?♕MYG

♕18+ nsfw ♕ pairing: king!myg x female reader ♕ genre: pwp smut, fluff ♕ word count: 2.5k ♕ warnings: smut, blowjob, power kink, worship kink, he has long hair lmao, throne fucking, unprotected sex/creampie, dirtytalk, some fluff ♕ A/N: I want to thank @chimoona​​ for helping me out and supporting me when I couldn’t find the words because I lost sleep to get this done. I wouldn’t have been able to get this out without her, she’s the best. ily♡

“Does this please you, my king?” Your very words would be his undoing. King. My king. You said it like a prayer to the highest power.

‘‘Who’s your king?’‘

Your weight shifted between your feet as you stood in front of the man that owned every fibre of your being. It was just you and him, in his grand empty throne room, with the man himself comfortably seated on his throne.

‘‘You.’‘

‘‘Tsk,’‘ Yoongi clicked his tongue, the elbow resting on the armchair of his throne serving as leverage as he placed his chin on his palm. His feline-shaped eyes squinted slightly as his gaze pinned your feet to the wooden floor, ‘‘Don’t test me, princess… Try again.’‘

He knew you were quite the brat at times, and he loved it for the solemn reason of being able to put you back in your place. Which, in this case would be on your knees beneath him.

‘‘Hm..’‘ You played dumb, pretending to ponder on what words he possibly wanted, ‘‘Yoongi?’‘ you said his given name with a coy smile playing on your lips as you slowly rocked on your feet, hands clasped together in front of you.

Yoongi’s lips tugged in a playful smirk, an expression on his face that had never failed to practically melt your brain, unable to focus on anything but the growing desire for him to discipline you.

This was a game that the two of you would play more frequently than not. He thrived on the bratty attitude only you dared to utilize in front of him. The two of you were close, ever since he’d found you when he was on a stroll through his village months ago, hiding his face beneath a straw hat. He often stopped by your herbal tea shop to catch a glimpse of you, and after the third time you finally recognized the man that kept coming back…

However,  It wasn’t until he’d stared up at you with his intense eyes, not to mention the prominent line of a scar that went from his eyebrow down to his cheek, that you realized just who it was. It was an immediate, mutual gravitation, you were his from that very moment, and he was yours.

The fact that he was the scarred king only proved just how much power this man had. He was rich, ruling the nation, and a flick of his wrist made an entire country bow so low that their foreheads scraped the ground to worship the shadow of his footsteps.

But out of all things, you were his most treasured possession.

‘‘You know better than to address me by my first name.’‘ He stated with a deeper voice, a few octaves lower than normal. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, whether it be to annoy you, or to verbally break you down into a needy mess.

He picked up the sword idly resting by his side. It didn’t make a single noise as he unsheathed it with one hand, using his other to beckon you closer.

You obliged, a few steps brought you to stand directly in front of him, looking down at his relaxed posture with anticipation. Even though you played with him often, you never knew what to expect from him.

There was no time to react when the sword suddenly cut through the air with a whistle, slicing the fabrics of your dress in the middle, causing it to fall to your sides and simply only hang on to your shoulders like a robe. He was skilled with the blade, and one wrong move would’ve without a doubt sliced your torso as well.

But you trusted him with your life.

You held onto the clothes falling off your shoulders, attempting to pull the fabrics back up to cover your breasts, but halted your movements once you heard his hum in disapproval. Glancing up at him, he wiggled a finger back and forth, his shit eating grin widening on his lips, ‘‘Don’t hide what’s mine to look at.’‘

A small smile tugged at your lips, you could tell he was already adjusting himself in his seat from the mere anticipation of seeing your naked body. He’s seen you countless times, but every single time he made you feel like it was the first time. Passion ignited in his eyes the very second you let the fabrics slowly slide down your shoulders until they pooled by your feet, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

‘‘No bra, hm?’‘ He cocked an eyebrow, pointing the tip of his blade to the hem of your underwear before cutting it with a swift flick of his wrist, not wasting another second to reveal your most intimate parts for him, ‘‘You really walked around all day…. around people, without a bra, princess?’’

You nodded coyly, arms instinctively moving to cover your breasts once more.

‘’What did I just say about covering what’s mine?’‘

‘‘Sorry..’‘ You let your arms fall limp to your sides, breathing in deeply to keep yourself collected. But it was easier said than done when the tone of his voice made your knees feel weak.

‘‘Sorry, what? Hm? Tell me.’‘ Yoongi pushed further, his gummy smile flashing for a second, making him seem so harmless. Just like any other guy, a soft grin that made your heart soften. But it quickly fell back into his stoic expression when you didn’t reply fast enough, ‘‘Properly address me by my title.’‘

‘‘My king.’‘ You meekly whispered, feeling your slick juices slowly seep down your inner thigh. He truly had such a powerful effect on you.

‘‘Excellent, my darling. Now we shall continue.’‘ He nodded, lips pressed together in a vague smile as he carelessly tossed his sword to the side with an echoing clang, ‘‘On your knees, please your king.’‘

He loved the title, especially when it came from your lips. The power he felt when you obeyed his wishes beat any command he could ever give to any person within the nation.

You dropped to your knees as soon as he spread his legs for you to settle in between. His elbow was comfortably placed on the armrest, resting his cheek against his knuckles while his fierce gaze was fixated on your every move.

He remained silent when you looked up at him, as he had already stated what he wanted from you. And he didn’t like to repeat himself. 

You were thankful that his robe was already untied, making it easy for you to pull the fabrics to his sides, exposing his torso. Eagerly, you moved to the hem of his pants to pull them down just enough for you to be able to take his length out in your hand. You gave Yoongi another glance, he’s yet to say anything, unmoving, resting his cheek in his hand as he watched you with great interest.

But it was obvious that he wasn’t unaffected. While his face might show no signs of the way you drove him towards madness, his body couldn’t lie. The half hard length twitching in your grasp was the very proof itself.

‘‘Take it in your mouth, my darling.’‘ He urged, the stare in his eyes filled with an unsettling sense of power.

Without a word, you obeyed his command by guiding the tip of his cock to your lips, sticking out your tongue to give it a tentative lick, eyes on him for a reaction. But, the way he glared down at you proved that he was far from satisfied. A simple tongue job was not going to please your king in the slightest.

Even if he didn’t utter a word, the look he gave you was more than enough for you to know that he wasn’t in the mood for a tease. It was time to get serious. 

It was easy to fit him past your lips as he wasn’t fully hard yet, swirling your tongue around it inside of your mouth to pleasure him to the best of your abilities. You began sucking the way you knew he liked it. As the wet sounds from your saliva mixed with his precum grew louder, as did your king’s pleasure.

His cock quickly became turgid in your grasp, his girth making it almost impossible for you to take him as deep as you wanted to. You let most of his length slide out of your lips, keeping the tip inside as you swirled your tongue in the crease below the head of his cock, savoring the musky flavor of a long day as the king. Once his length was properly lubricated with your spit, you leaned in to push him deeper past your lips once more.

This time, you were adamant to take all of him, aiming to please. You pushed deeper over the veiny expanse of his shaft until your nose met his firm abdomen. Wanting to please him further, you kept going, your nose digging into his pubes as you felt the head of his length and more pushing past your throat.

In the midst of the sinful sounds sucking him off made, you swore you could hear Yoongi’s pleasure in the form of breathy grunts. This was his weakness, and you knew it well, especially with the way his cock twitched in the back of your throat followed with his deep, vibrating moans gradually growing with every suck.

You withdrew from his heavy length, clearly feeling every single inch being ripped from your throat as you did so with another lewd pop. It wasn’t easy to please him, but you were determined to. He was more than just your king. His pleasure was so much more than just pleasure, it was your life and salvation.

 You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.

‘’You’re doing so well, princess.’‘ He praised between heavy breaths, his unbothered expression threatening to crumble.

Between beleaguered breaths you forced his length down your throat again, over and over, never fully removing him from your soppy mouth. Pulling back once more to catch your breath, you wanted to make his patience of letting you breathe worth his while, lipping over the smooth head of his cock and swiping your tongue on it as if you were kissing him.

“You’ve done so well, my darling,” he praised through heavy breaths, petting the back of your head as he slides himself out. He’s close–unsure of how much longer he can last with you like this. “Need you to ride me,” he reclined a little, granting enough room for you to join him, “climb onto your throne.”

You placed your delicate hands on both sides of his seat and lifted yourself from the ground. Once you’re on your feet, your king guided you to straddle his hips and sink onto him right away with no preparation. Perhaps it’s for his own selfish needs, but he wanted to feel you wrap around him fully, paying no mind to preparing you. No matter–after the attentive service you gave him, you were already incredibly wet. He slided in with ease and stretched you for a comfortable fit. 

He’d never admit it openly, but the way you wrapped your nimble arms around the back of his neck as you circled your hips made his heart beat faster. He ached to hold you closer, so he does it with vigor. He grasped tight to your fleshy hips and assisted you, groaning deep into the crook of your neck. 

“Does this please you, my king?”

Your very words would be his undoing.

King.

My king.

You said it like a prayer to the highest power. 

“Such a pliant angel for her master,” he huffed into your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and lathing the rosy flesh with a soft tongue, “Do you hear that? Do you hear the way your tight little pussy takes my cock so well?”

You only gasped out your moans as a worthy reply to such a filthy mouth.

“That’s right, darling.” He held your hips with bruising force and lifts his own to fuck into you rapidly from below. “Listen to those sweet wet smacks filling my chamber, echoing off the walls. Do you like being filled by your king?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle the sultry sounds passing your lips, too reluctant to let anyone hear just how good he made you feel.

“Show me how much you like it. Let me hear you, nice and loud.”

He lifted your hips to slam down onto his lap, the skin of your ass slapping against his upper thighs. “Do it now or I’ll stop,” he taunted, knowing that’s just the words you need to give him anything he desires.

“I-I, my king–fuck,” your pitchy pants increased in volume the harder he thrusted into you.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Your thick cock feels so good inside my little cunt. Love riding you on your throne, imagining the room filled with all your loyal subjects.”

“What a filthy princess I have,” he stilled beneath you for a second, warming his length in your embrace to catch his breath, “You’d want others to see you in such a state? A sopping mess, tear-streaked, out in the open with your velvety walls crushing me?”

“Yes,” you simply replied, which seemed to be enough for him as he began humping into you as if his life depended on it. You sensed his urgency in his tensed muscles, burning hot against your bare flesh. He was desperately close and you were not far behind.

“This belongs to me,” he ordered, ramming into you, “Going to fill you until there’s no room left, going to show the whole kingdom you’re mine! Make you swollen with my heir and let every spectator know I fucked you long and hard, spoiling you for any man beside myself.”

“Cum inside me, Yoongi,” you breathed hotly against his neck, biting his pale skin and lapping the light bruises with your flattened tongue, “Claim me as your own. I want no one else.”

He pushed aside your defiant slip, referring to him by his first name. Instead, he pushed into you with a thrust so sharp he’s lodged as deep as you can bear, walls clenched around his length like a vice grip to hold him inside.

With a punishing nip to his tender neck, he groans his released out into the open, paying no mind to whoever heard his throaty moans. 

“This is mine, now and forever.” It was a promise and a proposition all in one.

“Be my wife and I will fuck you like this, right here on my throne, until the day you die.” 

It took not a second of thought to give him your answer, grinding your cunt onto his overstimulated cock to find your own euphoria. At the peak of your high, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I accept,” you cried out your acceptance and pleasure in the same breath, “I’ll be your wife.” 

“No,” Yoongi corrected you, shoving his cum back into you as it began to dribble onto his thighs, “You’ll be my queen.’’

You crashed your lips to his and released the remainder of your pent of lust into a breathless exchange. You rocked your bodies together to ride out what’s left of your orgasms, allowing the afterglow to take hold. 

“My king,” you whispered against his lips. You pressed gentle kisses up his cheek until you place a final one over his scar, lingering for a moment, relinquishing your full devotion to every part of his being–the good and the bad.

“You have me at last.”

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[pettyprocrastination]

Pierced Nipples HC

Just some fun ol’ headcanons about pedro characters reacting to you having peirced nips!! Big thank you to @captainsamwlsn​ for betareading my FILTH lmao ily bby!!!

Warnings: smut, foul language, blindfold sex, ya’ll know what you're getting into were talking about pierced nipples not going to church lmao. 

Perm Tag list: @honestlystop​ @captainsamwlsn​

Oberyn+Ellaria

Ellaria is letting her hands roam your body while Oberyn watches from the other side of the room, smiling like the two of you just gifted him the sun. Her lips are attached to your neck, leaving dark marks in her wake that you’ll cherish for as long as they grace your skin. Her hand slips under your gown, nimble fingers trail over the swell of your breast and freeze when they feel the cool metal in your skin. Her cool composure falters for a moment, soft brown eyes widen before they crinkle as she smiles. “I knew you were special.” She hums, Oberyn notices the change in his lover’s mood, more excited than before, more enamored with you, if that were even possible. “Come look lover-” Her hands loosen the lace back of your gown, letting the fabric fall off your figure and pool at your feet, leaving you bare before her and the Red Viper. 

You try to shy away but she grabs your chin, keeping you focused on Oberyn whose eyes are glazed over and mind no doubt addled with lust. To see the prince of dorne, the red fucking viper so entranced, so in awe by you? That gave you a rush of adrenaline, a surge of power that you’d never felt before and never wanted to leave. 

Her hand is tugging and playing with the silver bar in your left nipple as she hums and kisses the side of your face. Oberyn stalks towards you, slowly, but each step is taken with such authority you feel your knees grow weaker as he gets closer. 

“Magnificent.” Ellaria coos as you gasp and arch your back when she toys with the metal. “Isn’t she?”

Oberyn’s gaze trails down to your chest, looking at the metal pieces with an adoration that tied your stomach in a knot. A bronze hand trailed around the silver bar while his eyes focused on your reaction, taking in the way you whimpered and bit back moans as they played with you. 

“Truly one of a kind.” He breathed out. His gaze shot up to his lover, both of them sharing a conspiring smile. “But she would look so much better in gold, don’t you think my love?”

Din

When Din finds out, you're laying in your bed with a smooth silken fabric tied around your eyes. He’s mouthing at your neck, moaning against your skin as his hands map out every spot of your body and every reaction it pulls from you. He’s getting drunk off it, the way you whimper and writhe under his hands. 

You knew he was probably starved of it all. Touch, taste, sex. Living in a beskar cage his entire life. The rough pads of his fingers slip under your shirt, trailing over your stomach before pushing the fabric up and over your chest, his fingers freeze at your chest binding, brown eyes flicking up to your hidden ones under the purple sash tied tight around your head. 

You nod, his fingers tremble as he undoes the fabric and pulls it away from your body. 

You hear a sharp breathe and grin. 

Maker, you wish you could see his face right now. 

“You know-” You’ve got that big shit eating grin on your face and it makes Din’s heart beat even faster. “You can touch me, tincan. I promise.” 

You arch your back, presenting your chest to him even more and he feels like he may faint. 

“C’mon metalhead-” You tease. “-don’t leave a girl hangin’.”

In Din’s mind, the world has shrunk down to just the two of you, His hands frozen at his side suddenly snapped back into motion at your soft coo. 

His hands, scarred and rough, gently play with your pierced chest, his heart threatening to hammer right out of his chest when you moan and arch your back. 

“Fuck-” You gasp when he leans down and takes a nipple between his teeth, the other currently being rolled and tugged on by a hand shaking so bad you can feel it. “-that’s it Din.”

He moaned against your skin at the praise, letting his tongue savor the feeling of your soft skin and the cool metal. 

You were going to be his undoing.

Tovar

With Tovar, you both had fucked a few times before he ever found out. You belonged to the same group of mercenaries as him and William. Being the only woman meant you kept your guard up constantly, when Tovar began to find his way into your bedroll (after you propositioned him of course, he may be blunt but he isn’t a beast) it was quick, rough, efficient, neither one of you would even undress completely. Not that he didn’t know his way with a woman, oh no. You found your ecstasy each and every time you laid with him. Tovar would love nothing more than to unwrap you like the gift he believes you to be and spend hours unraveling you under the stars, but things didn’t work out that way. They were always on the move, mindful of wanderers waiting to pluck off travelers and rob them blind before sticking a knife in their gut. To dawdle with a lover meant being distracted, which couldn’t end well for either parties involved. 

Of course that wasn’t always the case, but you were as guarded and stoic as your lover, something William would tease his friend about endlessly. 

It wasn’t until the cruel chill of winter settled into your bones as frost coated the grounds you slept on at night that Tovar found his rough hands burrowing under your clothes. 

You had an iron grip on his wrist as you led one of his expert hands down your trousers, whimpering against his throat.

“It’s too fucking cold.” Tovar grunted in agreement, fingers slipping between your legs to rub your clit. 

“Let me warm you then-” In all the times you’ve laid with the Spaniard, this was the first time you felt the rough skin of his palm slide up your shirt and cup your chest. His hand froze against your skin before he growled, rucking up the fabric of your shirt over your chest. His eyes widened, taking in the piercings that glinted under the moonlight and leaned down, kissing you hard with a moan. 

“Do you mean to kill me woman?” You laugh at his words but it melts into a moan as his fingers curl inside of you while the other hand tugs and twists a nipple between his fingers. “Surely you want me dead.”

“I would never-” You smiled as he kissed down your chest, tongue lathering and worshiping every spot it touched. “-If you died, who would keep me warm?”

You didn’t think about how low you were when you cried out as he swirled his tongue around a pierced nipple before biting down. Pain shifting into hot pleasure as his hands and mouth worked simultaneously to bring you closer to the edge. 

He pulled away with a pop, breathing heavy and eyes wild as he stared down at you. “Nobody.” He answered, fingers curling and pushing you under hot waves of pleasure that kept rolling, uncaring if it was too much for you to handle. 

“No other man will keep you warm, or bring you pleasure.” The coil in your body was pulled tighter and tighter until it snapped, Tovar, the bastard, lets his fingers push you over the edge while he bit and sucked on the skin of your chest. Usually he would silence you with his own mouth, drowning out your cries of pleasure in a harsh kiss. 

But not tonight. He wanted them all to hear. Every other man in your group, and the next town over and the one after that. To let them all know that he was the only man to bring you such ecstasy, to see the wicked metal in your skin that was burned into his brain like a cruel brand. 

He’d have you scream it loud enough for the gods to hear him if he could. 

He was yours to use, and you were his to keep warm. 

Frankie 

This one is in the Frankie & BB universe, where reader is a camgirl that frankie falls for! Link for the intro hc post is here

Frankie had seen you topless the first night he met you. 

Well..the first night he saw your streams, of course. He was no stranger to women with piercings. He’d dating girls with nose rings and belly button piercings, even a pierced tongue once, but never did he find himself enamored with pierced nipples. 

Before he met you that is. 

Now he fantasizes about worshiping you, covering your chest in kisses and bites. Taking the pierced skin between his teeth with a gentle nip and savoring the way you breathe out his name and tangle your fingers in his hair. 

The way you’d look down at him beneath your lashes with that sweet smile before wrapping your legs around his waist, locking him in that spot for as long as you deem right. He’d want to stay in that moment forever. 

But those were fantasies, perverted little dreams that lived in his head while he watched you touch your chest on camera with a coy smile. He knew the feeling of your skin beneath his was something he’d never get to truly cherish. 

Until he finds himself two months later in your apartment with you sprawled out beneath him on your bed, his hands under your hoodie and marveling at the way you sing for him while he worships the smooth skin he’d longed for. 

Ezra

You had been working with ezra for a few cycles before the tension finally blew over one night. You grew fond of his fanciful stories, always painting such a vivid picture with his vast vernacular and slight southern lilt. Though you’d often tease him for his “Motormouth” as you called him, you enjoyed listening to his smooth voice paint stories as you worked.

He grew fond of your warm smiles and your laugh, oh your sweet laugh. He’d spend his life telling you stories if it meant you would never stop laughing. Such a sweet soul you were, he didn’t think the life of a harvester was one you were meant for. But you worked hard and plentiful, so much he asked if you wished to continue to work together. After the loss of his arm he could use the extra help on jobs, not that he enjoyed to admit it, and you were a pleasure to be around. 

The way your face lit up as if you had found the queens lair made his heart tie into a knot. 

“I’d like that motormouth.”

It was the same night you found the courage to kiss him. 

Ezra soon melted into the kiss, letting his tongue slip past your lips and his hand grabbing anywhere on you he could reach. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling away only for a moment to pant out-

“Bed?”

Which is how Ezra found himself lying in his cot, flat on his back with you straddling him and kissing his neck. 

“I will admit I’ve thought of you in such a position many times but-” He let out a smooth chuckle when your hands pushed his shirt up his body. “-never did I believe it would actually happen under these circumstances.”

You had some smart remark on your tongue, but lost it as you pushed his shirt up to see the pierced skin of his chest. 

His hand rubbed circles on your waist as you stared at him with your mouth agape. “Have I rendered you speechless, sweet gem?” He has the air of a prize show dog, eyes confident and practically preening under your gaze. “We were just beginning to have fun.”

“No I just-” You shook your head with a light laugh. Your hands removed themselves from his shirt to pull at your own. 

“I didn't think we’d match, is all.”

You quickly shed your top, throwing it into some darkened corner of the room as Ezra took in the sight of your bare chest, soft and each nipple sporting silver bars that matched his own. 

A big grin grew on his face as he pulled you down for a heated kiss. His hand quickly grabbed and tugged at your chest while you did the same to him, both moaning in praise of the heavy touches. 

“It seems we must be made for one another, gentle soul.” He leans down and takes your nipples into his mouth while tugging on the other. The once lone harvester cherishes the way your moans seem to echo through the cot, a song sung for him and only him. 

One he hoped he could make you sing again. 

Maxwell & Valerie Lord 

This one is in the universe of my fic Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together, focusing on not only you and Maxwell, but his wife as well! Not super important to this because it’s only hc but Poly fic obvi. Chapter one ink is here if you're interested.

Maxwell and Valerie found out before they ever had you in bed. Valerie had been the first to find out actually, and all but sang about it the moment she got home to her dear husband. 

She was at your shop, as she usually was during the day. That day she had huffed and puffed about some “friend” that was less of a friend and more of a nuisance, but one she kept around anyways. You listened to her berate the woman as you hemmed a sundress with a smile, occasionally chiming in here and there with your own words on the dreaded socialite, causing the ice queen herself to laugh and smile. 

“See!” She pointed to you with a congratulatory grin. “This is why you're my fucking favorite!”

You shook your head and stood up, moving to the next article of clothing to alter. A tux that needed to be taken in. 

But as you stepped to grab the suit jacket, you lost your footing on a wire that poked out front the carpet and stumbled. Luckily you caught yourself before falling to the floor, but not without your shirt, which was buttoned dangerously low in the way that Valerie and her husband loved, shifted and got the richest woman in D.C a quick peek at the bare, brown, skin that she dreamed of for months. 

She took in a sharp breath, taking her bottom lip between her teeth to hide any noises made at the quick reveal. 

Piercings? My oh my you were full of surprises. 

She covered her reaction well enough it seemed. After shifting your shirt with no words, you sat back down and began to mark the jacket with tailors chalk. 

Unknowing that Valerie’s heart beat against her ribs like the wings of a hummingbird. 

The moment she got home she called Maxwell’s office and insisted she speak to her husband that instant, who was currently in the middle of a meeting. 

His secretary, a replacement for the one before that she loathed, was quick to transfer her to her husband. 

“Darling-” His voice was gentle but scolding, no doubt looking up at the men in the room with him. “I’m a bit busy at the moment, but I’ll speak to you later, alright?”

“Oh?” Her voice was full of faux innocence that her husband knew he was going to dread picking up the phone. “So you don’t want to know what I saw when I visited our girl?”

At the mention of you, Maxwell shifted in his chair. 

Our girl. Hearing his wife say those sweet words send his heart into a frenzy. Truthfully you were what brought them back together, showing them a way of love they didn’t know they had for each other as well as you. 

Something you didn’t even know you did for them. 

“And what’s that my dear?”

 He held up a finger to the men in the room with an apologetic smile. It was returned with patient nods and absent minded waves, insisting he continue his phone call. 

Of course they wouldn’t tell him to hang up. He was Maxwell fucking Lord. 

“Well-” his wife purred, his voice causing a strain in his trousers. “Today, I caught a little peek.”

Maxwell cleared his throat. 

“Not on purpose of course.” She further explained, wrapping the telephone cord around her finger as she spoke. “But she tripped, stumbled a bit and well-” His wife sighed, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes in memory. “Oh she looked so soft Maxie, you should’ve been there.”

“It certainly sounds like it.” Maxwell’s mind ran rampant with the image alone of seeing you in such disarray, his wife sultry tone did nothing to quell the fire. “Now if we can continue this conversation when I get home-”

“She’s pierced too.”

Maxwell pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to feign annoyance in front of the other men so they didn’t see the way he gripped the phone so hard it nearly cracked in his grip. “Excuse me?”

Valerie hummed. “You heard me handsome. Pierced. She looks so pretty with it.” He could hear the little hitch in her breath that told him she was just as unraveled as he was by the news. “I bet it feels so nice to tug on and touch, oh fuck.”

Of course she didn’t have to hide it. 

“Type?” His voice was even and composure cool even as his mind was flooding with images, fantasies that he’d do anything to make a reality. 

The love of his life, his queen and fucking she-demon in life simply giggled. 

“Come home and I’ll tell you all about them.” She blew a kiss into the receiver before hanging up. 

Maxwell sighed, masking himself in great aggravation and fatigue at the phone call. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to reschedule this meeting gentlemen.” He rolled his eyes. “My wife is practically in pieces and insists I come home to take care of her this instant. I’m so sorry for all the trouble.”

A man in a cheap suit chuckled and waved the CEO off. “Nonsense Mr.Lord, we all know how it can be with women.”

He knew damn well none of these schmucks knew how it could be with his women. 

Maxwell sighed and hung his head. “Isn’t that the truth boys.”

A few handshakes later and a stern order to his secretary and he was walking down the steps of his building to the car waiting for him outside. The moment he got in he slammed the door shut hard enough the car itself shook and he fished out two hundred dollars from his wallet. 

“Sir?” Daniels, his driver spoke warily. Maxwell let out a shaking breath, running a hand through his blonde locks and pulling his shoulders back before turning to his driver with a harsh stare.

“Get me home in the next five minutes and this money is yours.”

[appleflavoredkitkats]

stagnant;

author’s note: been a while! this isn't as long as my other fics, but i wanted to write this because i just like the concept of fundy in las nevadas, okay? and smoke breaks. i love writing smoke breaks. and of course, i will be writing about fundy because i am biased and he deserves better lmao. this is all written before the las nevadas arc ever occurs, so if there are any discrepancies by the time las nevadas finishes, that ain't my fault.

also! all of this is platonic! i view schlatt as fundy's other father figure. for quackity, i don't necessarily view him as 100% manipulative towards fundy and schlatt, but you're free to interpret him in any way you want. and yes, i know the situation about schlatt, and i don't support the actions of the cc, but i do enjoy his dsmp character nonetheless.

DO NOT SEND THIS FIC TO ANY CONTENT CREATOR!! be nice!!

laslty, special thanks to my good friend dany from the dsmpanalysis discord server for beta-ing my fic!

relationships: platonic fundy & schlatt (father-son relationship)

warnings: trauma, smoking, gambling, drinking, alcoholism, substance abuse, self-harm (accidentally burning oneself), slight mentions of fire, parental neglect (from wilbur), unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied depression or mental illness, mental health struggles, addiction, references to past violence, death idealization, underaged gambling, arguments (in the background), and general angst!

word count: 1878

summary: fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps are then heard behind fundy, but even then, fundy doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk.

or, it's midnight in las nevadas, and fundy has a smoke break with schlatt. he reflects on the state of the server, and he reflects on himself.

( ao3 link )

a click of a lighter, the tapping of dress shoes against chiseled quartz, the rummaging of pockets to fetch another fresh pack of cigs. his paws work automatically: slicing the plastic cover with his claws, fumbling the top open, and finally selecting a cigarette from the batch, twirling it between his fingers to the sound of muffled, jazzy tunes in the background.

with the smoke in between his sharp fangs, he guides the lighter to the end of the stick. there’s a deep inhale, letting the smoke fizzle into his lungs, latching onto every feeling of remorse, regret, guilt, sadness, pain, hurt, trauma, everything— 

and fundy exhales, all of those icky sensations evaporating into misty smoke.

this cycle of mindless smoking continues as fundy stands idly on his hotel room’s balcony. up ten stories high, fundy looms over almost everything in las nevadas. despite it being midnight, las nevadas’ visitors never relent. from above, staring with droopy eyes, fundy sees all four casinos lit up brighter than a neighbourhood during the holidays. no bulbs malfunction, thankfully; all of them flicker and twinkle as if there was something to celebrate about in this place full of deceit and temporary bliss. the bars, while more mellow, have the calmest of tunes blasting from their jukeboxes. when fundy first started working here, he remembers being fond of upbeat tunes like these, but they’ve quickly grown stale, or maybe fundy’s just grown tone deaf overtime. who knows?

everything about this place grows on fundy like a terrible rash. sometimes, he does enjoy the outgoing crowds and customers, but sometimes, the noise overwhelms him— ear-piercing, annoying, inharmonious. so, he ends up in places like his dishevelled room, unkempt from all the alcohol and exhaustion and the fact that he just doesn’t  want to give a fuck anymore. but as much as his room is reminiscent of the rubble he left in his original base, he at least feels at ease with the sounds he hears from above. there is the same jazz music, the same victorious yelling at jackpots, the same rolling from the slot machines, but it’s in diminuendo. 

it’s a symphony fundy will willingly listen to because he feels like he can separate himself from the chaos present downstairs. when he is with the others, when he serves tequila shots and shuffled decks, he feels like he is at the center of his own friends’ descent but from his own bedroom, he can pretend that he is fine, that everything is fine. he can live in the delusion that his friends are shouting from a well-deserved victory when deep in the back of his head, he knows that they’ve gotten inexplicably attached to machinery that he knows is programmed to bring about their demise.

fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps is then heard behind fundy, but even then, he doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

the guy who enters pats his back twice gently as a greeting, settling himself next to fundy. fundy averts his gaze from the saturated lights to look at the goat hybrid. with a newly tailored suit and freshly manicured horns, schlatt has never looked more dapper, but his skin was still heavily scarred and immensely graying. 

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk. fundy lowers the smoke, coughing a little before raising an incredulous eyebrow at schlatt.

“i learned from the worst,” fundy replies as his free hand shuffles through his pockets, holding out the box of smokes for schlatt to get one for himself. fundy doesn’t need to ask schlatt if he has his own lighter; he somehow always does. he’s been used to his mannerisms ever since a darkened flag with glowing, orange lace loomed over a dying country.

schlatt easily raises the smoke to his chapped lips and lights it easily. he falls into the rhythm of the scenery, slouching against the metal railings as he watches the same fluorescent bulbs fundy had been watching. 

moments like these, no matter how incredibly fucked they are, are the closest fundy can get to tasting peace. his father once described peace as a taste of freedom. it is the image of bright-eyed soldiers under swathes of redwood trees, free from the shackles of tyranny and violence their oppressors have imposed on them.

but fundy knows, as always, that his father is a liar, because at this very moment, fundy connects the concept of peace with the disgusting taste of smoke.

it is a habit he’s picked up from a man he’d once considered perfect. back when the server first hit its grayest of days, sometimes fundy’s claws had itched to strike a match, to spark stones. the scorching blaze igniting was the most colorful thing  he’d had in that wasteland of grey. he’d kept doing it more and more and more, until his own fur and skin burned and he realized that he too is graying like the place he called home. when schlatt had first discovered it, fundy remembers a lot of talking—all kind, kind words that have tarnished his perception on what a caring guardian, or a father, may be—and then, out of the blue, fundy asks for a smoke. while a confused eyebrow quirks, schlatt gives him one to try out, saying that there is a first time for everything, especially since their lives have been as mundane as they possibly can be.

and here fundy is now, able to finish an entire pack in the span of a few days as if it is a part of his diet. 

but if all this substance abuse and addiction and self-sabotage and self-deprecation have become so widespread in the server, so normalized, would one even consider it awful? if everyone is traumatized or hurt, does the concept of trauma even exist in the first place?

“you know, i— don’t take this the wrong way, but i thought that you would be much happier to see all your friends reunited,” schlatt speaks, fingers gesturing to tiny specks on the ground that move in sync with the jazz. fundy hums non-committedly as a reply, not really knowing what to say. 

“well, sucks to be you, i guess. mopey ass,” schlatt jokes with the same half-smirk he uses whenever fundy is notably graying like he did in the past. fundy chuckles at it, at least, but his shoulders droop immediately after. the smallest bouts of happiness and joy make him unbelievably tired nowadays.

fundy attempts to lift his smoke again to his lips, but surprisingly, schlatt interrupts, forcing fundy to lower his arm. fundy stares at him acutely with furrowed brows. “fundy, i—” schlatt begins, and his lighthearted expression dwindles into something much more anxious and apprehensive. schlatt clears his throat and continues, “fundy, kid, i know i’m not the type to get all grossly emotional and whatnot—that’s more of tubbo’s thing—but you have to listen to me when i say that you need to leave.” schlatt grips fundy’s forearm now, firm yet slightly shaking. “kid, you’re not healthy here. it’s— you— this—” schlatt gestures towards the buildings, the lights, the entire shithole that they are stuck in, “this is not somewhere you need to be. you need to leave when you can.”

fundy blinks, and then he blinks once more before his free hand shrugs off schlatt’s grip. he returns to his original position of leaning against the railing, and through the reflection of the cold metal, fundy can see the unpleasant surprise on schlatt’s face transform into something more defeated. a pregnant silence precedes a long, exasperated sigh from schlatt. the edges of fundy’s lips slightly curve downwards.

“well, it would be easier if it weren’t for the fact that i literally have nowhere else to go,” fundy replies monotonously, as if this statement is something he’s rehearsed several times before. “i’ve hit rock bottom, schlatt. i have nothing else to lose,” fundy continues, huffing out a melancholic chuckle. he doesn’t think this situation he’s stuck in is anything comedic, but it sure is amusing how his life has continuously spiralled further and further for the past five years. he’s amused by the fact that he is still very much alive and breathing by this point despite the—fundy looks at his half-finished cigarette, the livid circles under his eyes, his furrowing ears as being exposed to multiple explosions has caused a permanent, high-pitched sound to ring in them sporadically—small, little missteps. 

it’s quiet again as schlatt stares at fundy uncomfortably. “you’re really out here wishing for god to strike you dead in front of a dead man— how very respectful of you,” schlatt replies sarcastically. fundy knows schlatt only wants to lighten up the mood. schlatt has been very persistent in helping fundy find the brighter side of things for a while, but lately, they’ve fallen flat. is schlatt’s eloquence gradually deteriorating, or is it fundy who’s only gotten more numb towards schlatt?

fundy doesn’t know, and both possibilities are undesirable, really, so fundy decides to speak. “i’m sorry,” fundy says, and he doesn’t know if it is for himself or for schlatt. maybe it’s for the both of them.

schlatt’s look softens, and he raises his free palm to grip fundy’s shoulder, thumbing it for comfort. a part of fundy wants to sob, to cry, but he chokes all his tears back with an inhale of smoke. “i’m sorry too,” schlatt murmurs, his voice the softest and the most caring it has ever been. when fundy exhales, he can feel tears prick the corners of his eyes as schlatt continues, “you deserve better.”

fundy hums and his eyes trail downwards to gaze at las nevadas’ visitors once more. he spots ranboo, possibly exhausted judging by his sloppy movements, forcefully pulling a crazed tubbo from a slot machine. fundy remembers that inside, he has seen purpled, foolish, and puffy shout over a simple card, a two of clubs, arguing on whether they should split the fifteen stacks of diamonds or not. he remembers finding sam outside the bar next to the trash bins downing his own personal bottles of alcohol, gripping tightly on a withered rose as he sobs uncontrollably. at the side, he can now see a distressed bad and ant incessantly begging the blackjack booths to accept their territory offers as they’ve lost all their possessions to far too many rounds of roulette wheels and texas hold’ems. he also spots a jovial yet sly quackity skipping through the streets energetically as a stern techno and phil trail behind him, ready to smite anyone who dares terrorize the place. 

and lastly, he stares away from the crowds and returns to gaze at schlatt—tired eyes, frayed hair, drying skin—with a bittersweet smile. fundy replies, “i think we all do.”

[sokkas-honour]

for spotify wrapped: #7 and zuko?

checkmate - zuko x reader

pairing: modern!zuko x fem!reader

wc: 4.3k

warning: parties, alcohol, vomiting, kind of cheating, lmk if i’m missing smth

notes: the party in here is a kind of based off the ones i’ve gone to so they might be drastically different than they actually are lmao. if a character is very ooc for you, please lmk, i’m often scared that i differ too much from who they actually are. also i loved writing this and have been working on it for days.

-

you think you're funny right? calling me drunk when it's too late at night

he sat at his desk, book open as he studied for his earth kingdom history test late that saturday night when he received a call. he wasn’t very interested in answering but he reconsidered when he saw your name as the caller id. with a sigh he clicked accept.

“heyyyy zuzuuuu.” your words slurred through the phone when he finally picked up. voice sounding somewhat absent as lyrics from whatever song was on played in the background. you must’ve been yelling into the phone as the music seemed to playing rather loudly.

“hey y/n.” zuko sighed but still greeted you, a small smile forming on his lips at the fact that he was talking to you.

“did you knowww that you’re kinda cute?” you asked, a loud giggle escaping your lips at your drunken confession.

“thanks y/n.” a blushed spread accros his cheeks at your compliment.

“zuzzuuuuuuuuuu, come to the party. pleasseee.” you begged, your words starting to slur even more as you pleaded for your friend to come to the gathering.

“where are you right now?” he asked, realising that he hadn’t heard of any party during the week and hadn’t seen anything in their group chat. he had absolutely no idea where you were and who you were with.

“jet’s place. he invited me to his party with his friends.” you explained, practically shouting into the phone as the music behind you blared.

“did you go alone?” he pushed for more information, concern growing as you explained the situation. he’d heard rumours on things jet had previously done around campus and even in high school, none of it sounded any good and it rose all of his red flags.

“well no, with jet.” you stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“i mean with someone from our friendgroup.” he clarified, remembering that your drunken self probably wasn’t exactly thinking much.

“nope.” you popped the ‘p’ as you cheerily responded which earned a sigh from the firenation boy.

“what’s jet’s address? i’ll be there soon.” he concluded. he’d come to get you and let you spend the night at his place since you seemed a bit too drunk to be trusted to be left alone.

“he texted me roku valley number 35? i think? it’s this huge house.” you seemed to have sobered up as you told him where you were.

“i’ll be there in less than 15 minutes.” he informed the drunken girl and started grabbing his keys.

“see you zuuuzuuuu.” he heard you say but you didn’t hang up so he didn’t either, figuring you probably wanted to say something else.

right as he was about to grab his jacket, he heard a discussion between jet and yourself and grabbed the phone, and put it on speaker to be able to know exactly what was happening.

“hey y/n, you enjoying yourself.” jet asked, seeming to have not been affected by any alcohol yet. unbeknownst to zuko, he had handed you a bottle of beer which didn’t take you long to finish.

“yeah, i even got a friend to come.” you excitedly responded as you continued to drink.

zuko listened intently as he left his apartment to get to his car, he threw his phone in the passengers seat and started his car as another distinctive voice came up into the phone.

“so what about you and that firenation boy.” jet asked, this time no music was blaring but the voices were just muffled as your phone was in a pocket of yours. the no music meant that you had stepped out of the main room and you were probably alone with the boy.

at the realisation, zuko sped up, the roads were practically empty so he didn’t bother anyone as he couldn’t wait to come and get you.

“zuzu?” he hadn’t been paying much attention to your conversation with jet as he focused on the road ahead but the mention of his caused him to pay half attention to the call.

“i dont know. he’s like my best friend y’a know.” you explained to the boy after he had nodded, zuko deducted the last part.

he decided to just hang up as he was getting closer to his destination and before he knew it, he was in front of the house where the party took place. he parked rather hazardly on the sidewalk but he wasn’t going to be there for long, a simple get in, find you, and get out.

when he opened the door, some random generic pop song was blaring and a crowd of people were all in the center of the room, drunkenly dancing around. he had to push a path for himself to try and find you but it was a bit hard considering it was perfectly lit.

“zuko?” he heard the familiar voice of haru, a fellow classmate with whom he had shared classes with in his sophomore year of college.

“hey haru, have you seen y/n?” he didn’t feel like small talk as he was concerned for you. thankfully for him, haru seemed to pick up a small stress in his words and pointed to the kitchen with his head.

“thanks.” zuko smiled and quickly left to the direction that the earth kingdom boy had said. when he finally found it, it was practically empty apart from two people who seemed like they were about to indulge in a make out session and his eyes widened when he was able to recognise you. he’d recognise you anywhere.

“you mind leaving?” apparently he hadn’t been very discreet as the boy, who he saw was jet, moved his head to glare at the newcomer. interested, you turned around, your back now facing jet and you grinned.

“zuko!” your excitedly exclaimed, quickly leaving jet’s grip and skipped to your friend happily. to any sober person, your skipping was a mix of jumping and almost falling, and in any other circumstance, zuko would’ve found it adorable.

“hey y/n/n.” he was a tad bit surprised as you wrapped your arms around his waist but relaxed when you slightly cuddled into his chest.

“nicely played scar boy. nicely played.” jet gritted through his teeth at the fact that zuko had just taken the girl he had been flirting with away from him.

“jet that’s mean, zuko’s scar is very pretty to me.” you mumbled, not loud enough for the person that you actually wanted to hear it but loud enough for zuko to hear and it made his heart race.

telling me truths that you know all are lies, yeah, you think you're funny right?

the car ride home was quiet from both sides, zuko focused on the road while you went in and out of sleep.

when he finally parked near his apartment, he got out of the car and when he went to help you, he saw you were already out but slightly leaning against the car as you were tired.

“see zuzu? i’m not that drunk.” you gave him your signature drunken smile, earning a chuckle from him as he wrapped his hand around your waist to help you stand up.

he kept it around you as he you went up the two flights of stairs and he been kept it around you as he opened the door. you almost sprinted to bathroom as soon as the door was open, feeling the contents of the night come up.

concerned, zuko quickly shut his door and went after you. his heart broke slightly when he saw you leaned over the sink, a weak hand holding your hair back as you body ridded itself of whatever was in its stomach. he leaned down, wrapped a solid hand around your hair and rubbed circles on your back as you kept going.

when you finally felt like your stomach was completely empty, you rose your hand slightly. eyes red and cheeks puffy, you tried to give zuko some sort of joking grin but you were only met with a concerned face.

he let go of your hair and filled up a nearby cup of water and handed it you while you sat on the ground, not feeling like getting up just yet.

“spirits y/n, how much did you drink?” he bent down to your level, hand on your knee and worried eyes staring in yours.

“don’t know.” you shrugged your shoulders before slowly sipping the water.

“i guess you can tell me tomorrow morning, after you’ve rested a bit alright?” he suggested, taking the now empty cup from your hand and placing it on the sink counter. he extended his hand towards you to help you stand up and you gladly took it.

you let him guide you to his bedroom. you took a seat on his bed and absentmindedly stared at the wall in front of you as zuko grabbed a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt for you to sleep in. you staring got interrupted as you felt the clothes land on you, turning around, you saw a small smirk on his face.

“how kind zuko.” you seemed to have somewhat sobered up, throwing a playful grin his direction as he turned around to let you change in privacy.

“once you’re done, i’ll just grab a thing or two and go to the living room.” he explained, meaning he was giving you the bed.

“no zuko stay, it’s fine.” you crawled to the other side of the bed in his clothes to grab his hand, trying to get him to stay.

“you sure? don’t want you throwing up on me.” he joked, earning a slap on the arm from you as you moved back to the other side of the bed to give him some space.

you had taken your phone out of your pocket and were scrolling through it as you waited for zuko to get ready.

‘had fun tonight, see you tomorrow evening? 7pm?’ you texted jet, hoping you could finish whatever you started.

‘cant wait’ was his response that came almost immediately. a smirk on your face, you shut off your phone and placed it face down on the night table next to the bed as zuko entered the room.

“who were you texting?” he asked, eyebrow raised in questioning.

“no one, just scrolling through insta.” you lied, a reassuring smile on your face as he took his spot next to you. you mumbled one last thing before placing your head on the pillow and passing out. it wasn’t loud but you made sure that it was loud enough for zuko hear it. “i love you.”

you think you're super sly, flirting with them but telling me you're mine,

zuko woke up before you, smiling at your adorable soft snoring. he knew you were going to have one hell of a hangover so he prepared the ibuprofen and the glass of water, and set it on the night table closest to you before heading to the kitchen. he figured that he might as well make breakfast for the two of you, knowing that you’d be ravenous as you had been the multiple times you’d spent the night.

the boy found himself falling asleep next to you at least a couple of times a month, this being the third in two weeks. you two had never defined your relationship but you were both there for each other. he often found himself taking a drunk you home, wether it be from a random campus party or a little get together with friends. he didn’t mind, he loved spending time with you.

he got out the pan, the eggs and the bacon. that was something he knew how to cook and it was your favourite post-drunk breakfast, you always claimed that his bacon and eggs were the best.

while he was cooking the bacon, he heard some rustling from his room and a small knowing smile spread accross his face. he could hear the floorboard creek as you stepped out of the room and arrived practically directly in the kitchen.

you had woken up to an empty bed but to a heavenly smell. once you saw zuko in the kitchen being the cause for the delicious aroma that had filled the appartment, you rubbed the last of the sleep out of your eyes and walked towards him. you thought he looked adorable as he cooked so you wrapped your arms around him and cuddled into his back. you knew exactly what this did to him.

“good morning sleepy head.” he greeted you, heart racing a bit at your proximity. zuko desperately wanted to turn around to kiss you good morning but opted for keeping his attention on your breakfast.

“good morning.” you mumbled into his shirt, too lazy to remove your head from its comfortable position which earned a small chuckle from the raven haired boy. you could feel it in his chest.

“sleep well?” he asked as you moved your head so that only your chin was against his back, letting your just stare at the ceiling.

“like a baby.” your morning voice prevented you from saying it normally so it came out more as a rasp than anything.

“figured as such, you passed out as soon as i turned off the lights. how’s the hangover?” concerned laced in the last part, moving the eggs from the pan to a plate that he had already prepared.

“better than expected, i’ll take the pill after i eat something.” you explained, trying to clear your throat in order to have a bigger range of voice.

“mind unlatching yourself? breakfast is ready.” he explained as he placed the final bacon on the two plates then turned off the stove. you reluctantly removed your arms, a small pout forming on your lips.

when zuko turned around, a plate in each hand, he laughed a bit at your childish expression but still leaned a bit down to place his lips against yours as he wanted to when you first stepped into the room.

you smiled into the kiss and it replaced the pout even after he broke it in order to place the two plates on opposites sides of the two tables. you decided to make yourself useful and went to grab the silverware.

the majority of the meal was spent in silence, a couple of giddy smiles and compliments on the food were exchanged but a conversation didn’t pick up until you were about to finish the last of your eggs.

“did jet do anything last night.” so that’s what zuko was thinking about during the meal.

“no he didn’t zuko, i wouldn’t have let him anyway. i may be drunk but i’m not dumb.” you explained, telling a small white lie in order to reassure your friend. jet and you were about to make out but zuko didn’t have to know that, even if he saw the position you two were in, it was possible to lie about the intentions.

“you sure? didn’t seem like nothing when i found you.” he sipped his water as he doubted your previous statement.

“i was a bit nervous so he was kind enough to talk me out of the funk i was in.” you lied through your teeth but kept a genuine comforting smile, even extending your hand onto the table in order for him to grab it.

“what were you nervous about? since you seem to remember last night pretty well.” he looked at your hand but refrained from bringing his up to yours.

“i only remember bits and pieces zuzu. and don’t know really, i was probably nervous about you.” you bit your lip, waiting to see zuko’s reaction to your wild claim. as you expected, his eyes widened in shock and blushed.

“me? why would you be nervous about me?” he stuttered a bit in the beginning, his heartrate picking up your confession. zuko had been head over heels for you ever since he saw you in his first class of his sophomore year, and he wished more than anything that you two would get together.

“don’t know, maybe it has something to do with that beautiful face of yours.” you brought your mug of tea that he had made up to your lips to hide your small smirk but you still sent a wink in his direction. you loved watching his whole face illuminate and his cheeks grow redder.

“oh.” was all he managed to say, too stunned to say anything. zuko had been in multiple relationships before, boys and girls, but none of them ever drove him as crazy as you did.

the rest of the morning was spent by helping him do the dishes along with a bit of cuddling on the couch as the news served as background noise. sadly, an alarm rang from your phone, reminding you that you had somewhere to go. time to kill and get ready before your little rendezvous.

“do you have to go?” zuko mumbeld, not wanting you to leave his embrace.

“yeah i set a reminder to remember to start studying for the math final.” you explained, slightly unwrapping yourself from his grip.

“that’s in a long time y/n.” zuko rose an eyebrow in confusion, unwrapping his arms from your waist to let you get up.

“yeah but i’ve been falling behind and need to catch up by myself.” you explained, grabbing your phone and put it into the pocket of the sweatpants you were wearing and you realised you were still in zuko’s clothes.

“you don’t mind me keeping your clothes that i’m wearing right? i’ll change once i get home.” you gave him your best puppy dog eyes in order to convince him to let you keep his comfy clothes.

“of course, you look hot in them. also, feel free to leave your old clothes here for the next time you crash for the night.” he eyed you up and down, loving how adorable you looked in his clothes. it wasn’t the first time he saw you in them, the number of times you needed new clothes after a party was so high he lost track. you usually kept them but returned some.

“why thank you zuko.” you teased, grabbing your coat that he had placed delicately on top of an armchair.

“see you soon?” he wishfully asked hoping you two could go out together sometime as you were about to leave the room.

“you can count on it pretty boy.” you sent him a small smirk before shutting the door behind you. behind the door was a lovestruck boy that finally had his chance.

building me up, but buttercup you lied, now in gonna ruin your life,

a couple of weeks after that night, zuko and you had spent a couple of afternoons together and zuko savoured every minute of them. you were supposed to meet him and the rest of the gaang at a coffee shop but everyone had already finished their drinks and you still hadn’t showed up.

“you sure she’s going to show up zuko? it’s y/n.” sokka took zuko out of his constant glancing at his phone to check for any messages from you. you were somewhat notorious for showing up to friend dates later then the decided time.

“she said she would be there, y/n promised me she’d be there today.” the boy insisted, opting to stare out the window when he spotted katara placing her head on aang’s shoulder.

“she’s over an hour late, let’s just head back to our place and ask her to meet us there?” aang suggested after placing a small kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead.

“yeah zuko, i love y/n just as much as you but she might just have gotten caught up with something.” toph shrugged her shoulders, trying to help everyone convince the raven haired boy to just leave the coffee shop.

“i guess you’re right. let’s go.” zuko turned his head from his outdoor gazing and smiled to his friends who all cheered a bit before everyone grabbed their jackets.

everyone walked in pairs to take up less space on the sidewalk on the way to katara’s, toph’s and aang’s apartment. zuko found himself walking side by side with suki who was talking to him about a recent goof that sokka recently made. he felt bad for not fully paying attention but he couldn’t help thinking about why you didn’t show up or even text him. you never came late to any of your dates so why be late now.

all of a sudden, he bumped into toph who had stopped walking, apparently everyone stopped walking for some reason but he was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn’t realise it.

“why did we stop.” he asked, turning his head into the direction that everyone was staring in. he squinted his eyes, trying to see what everyone was seeing.

“jet.” sokka said through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the aftermentiononed boy. zuko finally spotted him, katara’s short lived highschool romance who supposedly ended badly. he had heard some rumours around campus but other than that, it seemed like a bad highschool experience.

“oh no.” he heard those two words slip out of sukis mouth as he saw who jet was with, he would recognise you from anywhere. he saw jet whispering something into your ear which earned a giggle from you before leaning in to peck his lips.

“how about we go this way.” aang nervously suggested as everyone spotted you, not wanting to make this too uncomfortable for anyone but it was too late, zuko’s heart dropped at the sight.

“yeah, sounds good to me.” he managed to say, swallowing hard as he couldn’t take his eyes off of the similar way you acted with jet. the look you gave him was the same, he thought it was reserved for him.

cause ive gotten tired of the games that you play, when you tell me you love me then you throw me away,

when he got him that night, realisation dawned on him. every time you left a bit early, claiming to go study or go see friends, you were probably lying. it solidified when he received a text from you, probably apologising for being late because you didn’t seem to notice your whole friend group down the street from you.

‘hey zuzu, i’m so sorry but not making it today. i got caught up with this highschool friend i ran into.’

the text basically aggravated him, he saw the reason why you were late and receiving a text for you lying about why you weren’t there. he decided not to bother to respond and basically just find a way to release his agression. opting not to make his phone a victim of his anger, he grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at the wall.

‘we still on for friday night? at that really good firenation restaurant?’ he heard his phone ding with a message from you right after he picked up the poor pillow that had suffered so much.

zuko was about to call you to confront you but then it hit him, you were just playing with him, you were just playing with jet. you probably only saw him as a friend but noticed his obvious feelings and decided to toy with him, or maybe that’s just what you did with everyone.

you two never actually said that you were both a thing, which is probably your excuse for all of this. but there was one thing you didn’t realise, and it was that two people could play at this game.

‘of course, see you at around six pm at zheng-ho’s delicacies?’ he smirked slightly when he got your enthusiastic text back, agreeing to meet him then and there.

the only thing left was to bring someone else into this game, someone who had previously been apart of his life in the beginning of college. she probably wouldnt mind a small rekindling without any real commitment.

he searched for her name in his contacts and clicked on it, realising it had been a while since he had contacted his sisters friend and his old girlfriend.

‘hey mai, i know it’s been awhile but wanna meet up at around five this friday?’ and sent, your single player game was now a multiplayer one.

so cry me a river 'til you drown in the lake, cause you may think you're winning but checkmate,

the rest of the gaang decided to avoid the topic during the week, letting the tension between the two of you be resolved on your own. you of course were unaware of them seeing you with jet, and even more unaware that zuko saw you kiss him, so you kept flirting with him, feeling a bit down when he didn’t always reciprocate it.

so now you stood, in front of zheng-ho’ delicacies at exactly six pm, waiting for your date with zuko. if anyone asked you, you’d say you felt a bit bad about dragging zuko into your games but it entertained you, it kept you on your toes.

you recognised the firenation boy across the street thanks to his scar. but who you didn’t recognise was the girl with long black hair that was holding his hand. he looked down at her and placed his hand on her cheek to lean down and kiss her. the action making your blood boil, what the hell was he doing.

you took your phone out to pretend you didn’t see anything, only lifting it when your heard his footsteps next to you.

“hey y/n.” he greeted you as you lifted your head with a small smile, lifting yourself up slightly to kiss him, taking him by surprise.

“good evening zuzu.” your hand immediately went to grab his, trying to show him that you had the upper hand in whatever game he was playing. you didn’t know that he saw your kiss with jet, you didn’t know that he had figured out your little game.

“shall we.” he unlachted his hands from yours, holding the door open for you with a smirk onto his face, knowing you were shaken by the change of power dynamic in whatever game you were both now playing.

yeah you may think you're winning but checkmate.

general taglist: @butterfly-skinnylegend

zuko taglist: @duh-dobrik

atla taglist: @missmorosis @draqondance @biqherosix @firelady-jay @welovediaaxx

[cdroloisms]

as of yet unnamed ghost!dream au

here’s some of a ghost!dream au that i’ve been working on for the last few days!! it’s been Fun - definitely one of my favorite current aus, along w/ vegas team 2.0 and others. it’s a really ,, bittersweet c!sam + c!dream centric au that’s equal parts fluffy and messed up, and my goal is to (somehow) wrangle this mess into some sort of happy ending 

anyway, i hope you all enjoy!! definitely look out for more of this in the future, and a future name change when i get around to thinking of one that Fits lmao 

tw: blood, violence, implied torture, abuse, description of dead bodies, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, death, dehumanization

Sam woke up to fifty pounds of fur smacking him in the face.

He startled, stumbled to awareness as he struggled to breathe from the newfound weight on his chest. It took a few moments for his vision to clear up enough to see what was right in front of him, but his lips quirked up in a small smile as Fran sat, self-satisfied, with her paws pressed against his collarbones, looking for all the world like she was priding herself in her win.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." He ran a hand through the fur on her head, got a bark in return. The smile dropped, however, when his brain - still foggy with sleep - began to drag itself into awareness, bringing with it a whole slew of unpleasant memories that largely made him want to crawl back under the covers for another week, please.

Fran barked again, headbutted him insistently, and he pushed away the thoughts with a bleary shake of his head. As much as he wanted to avoid his responsibilities, experience had taught him otherwise, and what was he without his duty, now?

He was halfway through the process of putting on his armor when he realized, hands falling from the straps they had been readjusting, lips pulled into a thin line.

Oh.

Right.

Fran barked again, probably noticing his hesitance, making a point of ramming her head into the backs of his legs again when he stood still for a little too long. Sam stared at his hands for a moment, then another, before going to undo the fastenings of his netherite chestplate and hang it back up on the stand.

He wouldn’t be needing those for a while, would he?

“Hey girl.” He kneeled down to scratch Fran by the ears, smiling softly when she closed her eyes in satisfaction. He usually didn’t have any time to spend with her, not with him needing to check on the prisoner in the morning to make sure he would be ready for Quackity’s visits at noon and his afternoons usually filled with his work at Las Nevadas and on his own bank and keeping the prisoner alive-

Sam breathed out a little too harshly, reaching for the Warden’s communicator he kept tucked in his chest pocket. The same words stared at him in the morning light, clear and damning.

Dream was slain by Quackity using [Warden’s Will].

It had been an accident, in the end. He hadn’t been listening well enough, Quackity’s shouts blending with Dream’s ragged screams making up the same painful two-note song that filled most of his days, when the cell - steadily growing in sound for the past hour, as Quackity (inevitably) became more desperate and the prisoner (inevitably) forwent any attempts at holding back his pain - suddenly went silent.

The quiet itself was enough to raise his hackles, have him reaching for a pearl as he clicked open his communicator; the quiet “Sam?” from Quackity only made them rise more.

By the time he reached the other side, his communicator was already buzzing with the notification he’d known would appear, in the end, and Dream was lying still with a sword shoved through his chest.

---

Sam hadn’t really reacted, when he first realized. He set upon the task of cleaning up the aftermath much the same way as he approached everything nowadays, quick, efficient, and methodical. He sent Quackity away to wash off the worst of the blood, not bothering to follow him across the lava; it’s not like there was any prisoner that could take advantage of the loosened security, anymore. With the winged man gone, he resigned himself to the job of dealing with the remains of the prisoner.

In the heat of the lava, the body hadn’t even cooled yet, the blood flowing from it- him- whatever, still warm to the touch. Sam eased off the cracked remains of the mask, heart momentarily seizing at the sight of the face underneath it; gaunt, pale, and stretched in memories of pain that it could no longer feel, it- he looked anything but peaceful. His eyes were still blown open in fright, bright green eyes long-dulled, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones thrown in sharp relief from the paleness of his skin. Even with the scars on every visible inch of skin, he looked- young, like a scared kid, expression tortured even in death, and Sam could feel echoes of horror beating against his skull like a heartbeat. With a slightly shaking hand, he closed Dream’s eyes - the man was dead. It was the least he could do.

He must’ve spent a solid few minutes carefully bandaging each cut and gash, still sluggishly weeping blood - not that it meant anything, with him dead, but it felt - necessary, to at least give him this much dignity after death. He was covered in blood, some of it fresh, most of it not, but after wiping away the worst of it from his skin (his hair and clothes had been a lost cause for a long time), he almost looked- human. It wasn’t a perfect image; he was far, far too still to be anything like the Dream that Sam remembered, and there were more bandages than exposed skin, at this point, skin paper-white against the black of the obsidian floor and the air still thick with the smell of blood, but if he squinted a little he could almost imagine that Dream was only sleeping. That nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened.

Or at least- nobody could know what did happen. Not with Dream’s death meaning that the information of the revival book was lost forever, not when his death would open up a whole can of worms that both he and Quackity would be better off not having to deal with for the rest of time, thank you very much. Keeping it all a secret wouldn’t be that hard, all things considered; he could turn away visitors with the excuse of preventing something like Tommy’s death from happening again, and it’s not like anyone was particularly preoccupied with thinking about the conditions of the prisoner. He and Quackity would have to think of a better excuse in the future, but now wasn’t the time. All he had to do was get Dream’s body out of Pandora and away from people’s prying eyes; everything else could come after.

Picking up Dream took less effort than he expected; even though the man was a dead weight, he hardly seemed to weigh anything in Sam’s arms. Making their way out of the prison was much harder, but with a few well-placed enderpearls and the abuse of quite a few guard mechanisms, they were out under the night sky. It was a clear night: the moon nearly full, the stars bright and twinkling; it was the kind of night that Dream loved, once.

He bit back the thought as soon as it came. Dream was dead and those days were gone. There wasn’t any point of thinking about them, now.

He ended up carrying the man to a patch of forest against the beaches behind the prison, burying him without much fanfare and pulling out a piece of cobble to serve as a shoddy headstone. It was a small and lonely grave in the middle of a woods that no one ever visited, the cobblestone dull and easy to miss. Only Sam would know where it was.

He told himself that he didn’t care as he left, tridenting across the bay towards the community portal so he could finally go home and rest. It didn’t matter; hardly anyone had bothered visiting the man when he was alive. What would change with him dead?

Distantly, thunder rumbled.

---

It was strange, to have nowhere to go, reminded him of the early days when it was just him and Fran exploring and hollowing out the mountain for his base one block of stone at a time. He figured that it was about time that he and Fran went on a proper walk, anyway, and so after a light breakfast they were off - Fran running in front in leaps and bounds, tail a blur as she greeted every tree and rock by the house with the eager overfamiliarity that only a dog could have, Sam staying back and whistling whenever she came a little too close to harassing a fox or chicken or whatever mobs were out in the early morning. Every once in a while, she would run back, shoving her face into his hands as if to check in and say hello, and he would give her a couple assuring pats before she rocketed away again.

He definitely should’ve been doing this more often; a small rock of guilt settled in his gut at the sight of Fran’s clear exhilaration at being outside of the same four walls. Her room was as nice as he could make it - food and water kept in abundance, an assortment of toys scattered all over the floor, her bed covered in a collection of blankets she had claimed for her own - but with everything going on, he really hadn’t had the time to bring her on long walks and play with her as he should have. She looked happier than she’d been in months.

He looked up; Fran was in the process of running back towards him, again, and he opened his arms in anticipation of a flying ball of fur smacking him in the chest once more, when she froze. Paws digging into the grass, her head cocked to the side as her ears swiveled, pointed up and alert at some sound that Sam couldn’t hear. Her muscles tensed, and he stepped closer, hand reaching forward-

“Fran, don’t-”

Fran darted off into the forest, a white streak disappearing in the underbrush, and Sam muffled a yell as he moved to chase her. Her sprint sent fallen leaves flying up into the air, a trail of dust and destruction following her as she dashed deeper into the trees.

“Fran, get back here, what are you doing, stop running!”

Completely ignoring him, Fran continued to run ahead, turning suddenly to the right and sending Sam scrambling in an attempt to follow. Ducking out of sight past a collection of thickets into what appears to be a sunlit grove in the middle of the forest, she gave a sudden, triumphant-sounding bark.

“Fran, you really can’t be running off like this, girl, I don’t even know where we are-”

He froze.

Fran, bright white in the sunlight, was wagging her tail as she panted, tongue lolling out of her mouth, muzzle seemingly split in a wide grin. Her dark eyes looked up at Sam, bright and intelligent, and she barked again when he looked at her as if to ask him if he was proud of her discovery.

Just behind Fran, translucent in the light, stood a figure. They were short - only coming up to Sam’s waist, if that, and wore an oversized light-green hoodie that reached halfway down their hands and khaki shorts. Their hair seemed windswept, blown around by some nonexistent breeze, defying gravity as it floated in a messy halo around their head; they turned towards him, freckled cheeks immediately breaking out in a blinding smile.

“Sam!”

He watched, numbly, as the kid stumbled forward, tripping on nothing as they crashed into him, arms immediately going to wrap around his legs tightly. They looked up, shoulders shaking with small giggles, mouth open to show a gap-toothed grin - one that was far, far too familiar.

“Dream?”

“Hiya Sam! Didja miss me?” Dream giggled again, still looking up at Sam, and he felt something dark and cold, almost like guilt, rising in his throat as he met his gaze.

Dream’s eyes were pitch black.

[greyhavensking]

Starlight? Real Steel???

Send me an ask about my WIPs and get a snippet!

OMG my real steel au. that I've been working on for the last like three years. and by working on I mean I wrote about 7k in a rush three years ago and keep coming back to it every few months and bemoaning the fact that I haven't finished it yet. anyway. i love this fic. Real Steel is, completely unironically, one of my favorite movies. boxing robots and shitty dads redeeming themselves and hugh jackman. plus a kickass soundtrack, and anthony mackie. can't ask for more than that.

but anyway, I had the idea for this AU where Steve is a down-on-his-luck former boxing champion who used to train in bucky's family's gym, and of course they were best friends growing up. and then Sarah died. and then human boxing started to go to the wayside as bot boxing picked up steam, and Steve felt like he was losing his place in the world, and more or less abandoned new york (and bucky) to go try and make something of himself. fast forward about ten years, and Steve just had his last chance at making it big in the bot circuits taken away when his bot, Nomad, gets destroyed by a competitor in the ring. he's at loose ends and decides he's been running from new york long enough. and then he shows up on Bucky's doorstep, which is. as you might be able to guess. not his brightest idea.

Here's a snippet:

Bucky isn’t going to be able to prepare himself for the sight of Steve Rogers just beyond the glass door of his family’s gym, so he doesn’t bother with it. Still, he’s mad about how hard it hits him, like a punch to the solar plexus, seeing Steve after all these years. Tall and broad and golden, still, despite everything. With a beard, though, that’s new. Steve kept clean-shaven for all the years Bucky knew him, all the years he was physically able to grow a beard, anyway, which was not all of them. And it looks good on him, God, Bucky can’t ever catch a break.

When the door’s unlocked and they’re standing two feet apart, Steve looks up from his phone, his mouth quirked into the beginnings of a smile. Something soft, but malleable, like he’s waiting on Bucky’s reaction to see what to do with the rest of his expression. He’s slumped a little, shoulders drawn inward, and that’s familiar, too – that desire to come off as small and unthreatening as possible, never mind that he’s six-foot-two and two hundred and fifty pounds. It’s an endearing quality that Bucky’s learned to hate, because nothing should endear Steve to him at this point. Not his stupid blue eyes or his crooked smile, not his scarred knuckles – highlighted by the glare of his phone – or the fact that he hasn’t crossed the threshold into the gym yet, waiting on Bucky’s permission.

And Bucky hates all of it, hates himself just as much, because Steve Rogers gets under his skin like no one else ever has, or probably ever will.

As for starlight, star bright -- that's alien Bucky lmao. The gist of it (because I never fully fleshed this one out and I haven't touched it in a year or so) is that Bucky is a shapeshifting alien who was captured by intergalactic Hydra and forced to become a spy/assassin for them. He escapes and gets himself to Earth, where he takes on the form of a long-deceased soldier who's picture he finds in an abandoned cabin. He then runs into artist Steve, who's looking for a roommate and just chalks all of Bucky's oddities up to human eccentricity.

Snippet:

B— sits on the scorched, overturned earth a fair distance away from his ship, lips pursed as he observes the trees around him crackle and burn, the clearing he’s made for himself awash in the sickening glow of the flames. His ship is half-buried under two felled trees and a mound of dirt built from the initial wreckage. The sleek, silver hull reflects the firelight a little too well for his liking. He fumbles for the keys in his pockets, mildly concerned they might have disappeared along with his communicator; he’d torn his suit as he clambered out of the emergency hatch and the communicator hadn’t survived the impact with the jagged edge of the ship’s mangled wing. But no – he feels the telltale curve of the keys and lets out a quiet sigh of relief, pulling them from his pocket.

Passing his thumb over the keys, he reads through the functions as they light up in the wake of his touch. And there it is: camouflage. This will no doubt tax his ship’s engine, diverting energy from automatic repairs, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. C-53 has no reported contact with extraterrestrial lifeforms – not even the Kree have been here since the humans evolved and subjugated the rest of the planet. The shit-storm that would erupt if they happened upon his ship would be catastrophic for him; it’d be like broadcasting his location to the nearest fifteen star systems, all of which monitor the planets that haven’t yet made contact with anything outside their own atmospheres. From there, it’d take almost no effort for Hydra to find him and drag him back into the fold.

A shudder ripples through B—. No, he won’t – he can’t – let that happen. Better to risk long-term exposure on C-53 than to lead Hydra right to him after he’s just escaped.