#*gasps* *cries* *listens on repeat for half an hour*

[luveline]

hi jade! would you be open to doing a hurt/comfort Eddie fix where the readers dealing with some personal stuff at home and starts distancing herself from him, they fight about it but makeup after a couple of days or something and it's a fluffy happy ending? love your writing and hope your doing well xx

hey!!! tysm for ur request tw unspecified family drama ♡♡♡ fem!reader

You've thought about nothing besides your fight with Eddie for days now.

Arguments can feel so transient. One second you're golden, the next you've argued, and ten minutes later you can't remember half of what you said or what Eddie said, and you're listening to him drive away with shaky hands.

The shaking comes and goes. It's a fucking gnawing anxiety. As if things weren't bad enough, now your boyfriend's mad at you (for good reason) and it's the only thing you can think about.

"Why won't you talk to me?" he'd asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't do that. Don't pretend there's nothing wrong."

Eddie's good at that, slicing down to the core of the problem without dawdling. You are pretending nothing is wrong, because you don't want to think about everything that's wrong, or even admit to it, not with Eddie. It's all messy and stupid and you shouldn't feel so much shame about the things you can't control, but you do.

The phone on your nightstand starts to ring. You lift your teary face off of a damp pillow and squint at it.

"Listen," Eddie says as soon as you pick up, no time for greetings, "I just wanna see you, okay? No more fighting, I promise."

You blink in surprise. The already high emotion, the snap of relief. Tears well in your eyes and you sound full of them as you say, "Okay."

"Aw, baby," he says under his breath. "Can I come over?"

You tilt your head and listens for the noise downstairs. "Can I come to you?" you ask.

"Of course you can... Uh-" There's a lot of sound from the other line. "Don't cry, sweetheart, okay? I'll come and pick you up, how's that? Please don't cry."

His sweetness and his not wanting you to cry is exactly what makes it unmanageable. You stifle a gasp with the back of your hand and close your eyes, feeling silly for reacting so strongly. You've really missed him. Really needed him.

"Are you- I'm gonna come and get you," he repeats, sounding not quite frantic but definitely worried.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. We'll talk about it."

You hang up and get dressed into something that doesn't look like it's been cried in for two days straight. You wait until you see his headlights from the bedroom window and slink out of the house on pins, heart spinning like a top as you approach his van.

It's dark. Your breath forms a cloud in front of you, and you hesitate with your fingers curled around the door handle.

Don't cry, you think.

You bite your tongue and pull open the door. Eddie's already looking at you with a careful smile.

"Hey," he says, offering his hand to help you up the short step as he always does. You take it not because you've ever needed it, but because you really want to hold his hand, and you don't let go once the doors closed. Eddie makes no effort to take it back.

You look down at his hand in yours. You know it well. The thickness and length of each finger, the single ring on his middle finger, the teeny tiny mole on his marriage finger.

"Can I give you a kiss?" His voice is rougher than usual, low.

You nod but still can't look at him — if you look at him you'll definitely cry. Your chest races in wait for him to lean across the gap and kiss you. It's a relief when he does, his lips warm and insistent. One kiss, a second.

"I'm keeping this," he says, pulling your hand toward his thigh.

You laugh quietly. He squeezes your hand in response and starts back on the road.

"I'm sorry for..." He cringes. "For getting so angry with you."

"It's okay."

"Is it? I've been thinking about it for hours and it just doesn't feel like you to stop talking to me. And I got so angry I pushed you back into a corner, and it didn't fix anything and it just made me miss you."

"You didn't push me into a corner," you say.

He turns the wheel in one hand, the other tight but never, ever cruel where it stays squeezing your own.

"I was quick to jump at you. I hate that. I don't want to be like that."

"Everybody fights," you murmur, trying to rub at the back of his hand. He has such a secure grip that's its difficult, but you try.

"I feel like an asshole, okay? Let me apologise, please." The first sentence said with self-deprecating bravado, the second with genuine remorse.

"You were right, though. I haven't been talking to you. It's just- there's just stuff, Eddie, that's all, and I didn't want you to know. It's," — a lazy tear runs down your cheek and you bring your shoulder up to wipe it — "my stupid- stupid family." You stop abruptly, embarrassed by how much you've said and the upset way you've said it.

"I want to know, though."

There's a really long gap. You and Eddie are good at this, at communicating, at knowing when there's as much need for love as there is for conversation. But you're also both flawed. Eddie's insecure, and he doesn't like feeling vulnerable. It makes sense that he'd assume your pulling away was something to do with him. In a way, it was. And you're embarrassed and quick to hide how you feel, so afraid of leaning on him for support that you end up looking as though you don't trust him.

And obviously there's the lingering anger of a fight, of wanting to be right. You wish there wasn't. How much easier would it feel on your heart to decide Eddie was entirely to blame, that he'd misread the signs and made a big deal out of nothing?

It would be easy. But. It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be love.

"Love you," you murmur, worried he won't say it back.

He pulls your hand up quick to his lips and kisses your knuckles. "I love you."

Which, despite everything, is what heals the rift. There's obviously more talking to be done. You need to tell Eddie about what's going on, and you will.

"Wanna table it?" he asks.

"Yes," you say tearfully, your relief palpable.

"Only for tonight."

"Yeah. Please."

His headlights splash across tarmac and up the brick side of Benny's diner. He's quiet as he puts the van in park, loosening his grip on your hand to push down the handbrake.

"Here," he says, pulling a sleeve over his palm, "gotta wipe those cute cheeks," — you laugh because it's awful — "or all the guys'll think I'm treating you wrong." He wipes your cheeks tenderly, lip pulled between his teeth for a short second. "Guess maybe I have been."

"No, you haven't," you say softly.

Your eyes close as he cleans up under your lashline with his thumbnail. You can't bear to open them as he takes your newly cleaned face into both hands, warm palms and the thick of his rings against your cool cheeks.

He kisses the tip of your nose.

"Dork," you say.

There's no way to describe it other than fondness in his hands, his fingers as they move slowly downward. He cradles your face from the jawline, thumbs pushing quarter circles.

"Open your eyes," he demands in a funny voice.

You open your eyes. Bloodshot, achey. Glad to see him. He's really pretty, handsome, everything. Brown eyes big and wide in the dark, pupils and irises merged into one.

"Let me get some food into you." He frowns some more, then takes on a light, almost blasé expression. "Heard Benny's got a new milkshake machine. Won't let me get you one, will you?"

"Do I really have a choice?" you ask. As soon as you smile Eddie pins it in place, beaming beaming beaming. He's like the sun.

"Sure you do. You can choose the flavour."

You lean heavily into one of his hands. Whether you can stomach it or not, if Eddie wants to buy you a milkshake, how can you deny him?

[sulieykte]

𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆

Pairing: Dilf!Jake Sully x Fem!Omatikaya Reader Warnings: explicit smut, thigh riding, age gap, daddy kink, overstimulation, dacryphilia, corruption, power imbalance, a nice little mix of praise and degradation, not a single hint of plot. Word Count: 1.2k a/n: this is probably a surprise to everyone including me who didn't intend to write it until @andraga12 and @jakexneytiri got me riled up about dilf Jake. Inspired by nasty - russ (blame andra) and oxytocin - billie eilish, I'd recommend listening to either or both while reading. So in honour of fathers day, here's some thigh riding with dilf!jake. Click to join my taglist. Requests are open.

Half moons indent the skin of his back where your fingers grasp to steady yourself, and if it pains him he doesn’t show it. His face is unchanged since the first orgasm he’d forced you to ride out and his refusal to help you in your endeavour still standing as you neared your fourth.

His heavy lidded gaze had barely strayed from your face since the moment he’d dragged you down onto his thigh, his five fingered hand catching your jaw when you’d tried to look away, commanding that your eyes didn’t leave his. And who were you to refuse? You were a warrior in your own right, but he was your Olo’eyktan, the man who’d led your father in battle against the Sky People. 

“Come here, baby.” When the foreign word had left his tongue, you’d repeated it softly, baby, brow furrowing as you tried to place its meaning, but nevertheless you had done as you were told. Obedient as you always were, you’d crossed the Marui with no idea what the next hour would hold for you.

“Jake– I can’t.” Your slick coating his thigh made the slide easy, but the ache of your swollen bud and the burn that had started in your thighs had now reached your hips. Your hips don’t stop their circling, even as you complain because despite it all, despite the shame that showed in the blush that coated your cheeks and neck, you wanted what he had promised. “Please Jake, I-I just want–”

“Jake?” He tilts his head, a smile crossing his lips that you can’t help but return, even as he tenses his thigh underneath you, a gasp replacing your attempt to correct your mistake and call him by the name he’d asked, that you aren’t even sure you remember anymore.

“D-Daddy? Please.”

“What else could you want, baby? Daddy’s being so good to you, letting you use his thigh like this.” He shakes his head, his thumb catching a tear before it could reach the corner of your lips. “And you look so pretty doing it, it feels good doesn’t it?” You whimper as his fingers dig into your hips, the first aid he’s given you. “You’re doing such a good job, just one more, baby.”

You nod in assent. You could do one more, but he'd said that before the last, and the one before that. He’d stood firm each time, no matter how much you begged and cried for him to give you his cock, never relenting as he leant back on his arms, watching you writhe over him with a look you would usually only associate with hunger.

Finding new pressure in the way he urges your hips back and forth along the length of his thigh, his leg bouncing to meet the pace he set. You clench around nothing, heartbeat throbbing at your aching clit. It’s not enough and you can’t hold on for much longer. He tuts as your head falls into his neck, tears soaking his skin as you fall into the embrace. 

His movements stop and you feel your high ripped away and any attempt to chase it hindered by his bruising grip on your hips stilling your frantic attempts to roll your hips.

“What did daddy tell you, huh?” His voice is so low, you feel it vibrate against your chest. “Told’ya you needed to look him in the eyes, didn’t he?” You nod against his neck, sniffling against his skin, not quite ready to leave the comfort it provided. “Don’t tell me your going all shy on me now, not when you’re so close. You want daddy’s cock, don’t you? Why should daddy give you his cock if you can’t follow one simple instruction?”

“N-No.” Your voice comes out much less sure than you intended as you exit your hiding place. “I can, m’sorry daddy. please.” Your voice breaks through the sobs that wrack your form as you tighten your thighs around his, doing anything you can do to chase the pressure your clit craves. 

It’s not enough, his hands releasing their grasp on your hips to hook under your thighs. Time slows, heat rushing your veins as his fingertips inch close enough that your core throbs, hips stuttering forward in anticipation of his touch which never arrives as he pulls your legs apart, denying you any friction. You meet his eyes, blood rushing to your head at the intensity of his gaze.

He seems happy with this, as you flush under his attention and release his hold, your body shuddering at the loss of sensation even as it’s replaced with hard muscle. 

“Baby, you’ve been doing so well for me. Lookin’ so beautiful dripping all over my thigh.” His tail wraps around your waist, pulling you in closer as he reaches to push back a strand of hair that had become stuck to your face by sweat and tears. “Daddy loves watching you, sweet thing. You were so close weren’t you?” You nod, tears falling freely, heavy as they land on his chest. “Go ahead baby girl, let me hear you.”

Your heart races as you nod, rolling your hips as fast as your aching muscles allow. He catches your face in his hand, his thumb running along your lower lip, coaxing your mouth open to let your sweet moans free. “That’s it baby, come on you can do it.” You gasp as he tenses his thigh beneath you, his tail rocking you along as you run your cunt along his leg, your slick dripping onto the ground beneath you. “It feels so good doesn’t it?” 

“Y-Yes daddy, feels–” Your breath catches, a whimper replacing any words, your mind struggling to gather a single thought as the tension builds in your stomach. Breath unsteady as you near your release. 

He laughs, it sounds warm but his eyes are glazed with lust as he watches your mouth open and close in search of the words you want to tell him. “It’s that good, huh? Too fucked out and you haven’t even had daddy’s cock yet. Baby, if this is too much for you, I don’t know if you can handle it.”

You open your mouth to tell him that you can, you can and you will because he promised and you’d been so good. But the coil snaps, thighs convulsing as your release rushes over you, drenching both of your thighs. His eyes never leave your face as you come undone, cries filling the Marui with no regard for who might hear until your throat has little more left to give.

Body spent, you fall forward, tears streaked face pressing into his neck, surprised when he doesn’t admonish you and instead pulls you further into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you into his embrace. 

“Baby, you did so good. Listened to daddy so well.” He pressed a soft kiss against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyelids are heavy, it’s so warm, so safe in his arms it would be so easy to allow sleep to take you. “My patient girl, you deserve a reward.”

taglist: @pandoraslxna,@teyamsbitch,@iwantjaketosullyme,@thehoneymushroomhealer,@neteyamyawne,@amalaaaa11,@athenalikethegoddess

[noritoshiikamo]

Husband Ajax seeing his first born for the first time?🫶🏽🫶🏽

husband!childe series— before yall threw the tomatoes at me, i know i would change this manipulative man into a soft baby daddy the moment he sees his child teehee

cw not so descriptive mention of birth (and i never had one maybe it aint that accurate lols, softie childe uwu

he would continue to surprise you.

after all he was the one who was more excited about the baby. sure, you love the growing child you more but ajax probably took it to the top. he is a family man. the closer you get to your due date, you’ll be seeing more of his fluffy ginger head roaming around the house. you would be confined to your room, for your own sake. sleep was out of the question so you found yourself sometimes dozing off against the bedpost with his head against your belly, singing lullaby in your mother tongue. your fingers found solace weaved between his head soon you found him sleeping first before you.

you didn’t realise your water broke until you heard his sharp gasp. you rolled your eyes knowing you’ll get the scolding of your life for leaving the bedroom (ajax had been carrying your meals up to the room) but when you turned around to face him, he had a panicked look to his face.

he looked at you in disbelief, “are you oka-insane??”

“what?”

“your water broke, are you fucking okay? you are leaking all over the floor, don’t you know pain?”

that started the most torturous 16 hours of your life. he made a clean space for you in the middle of the living room, you were struggling to feel the pain until it was 8 hours in. your first actual contraction almost broke his fingers. midwife insisted that they will be there once you reached a certain centimeters but ajax was relentless. maybe it almost broke him, seeing you in pain, struggling between the contraction and taking in a breather. 13 hours in, you swore it was the most painful contraction you ever had but the easiness that came afterward felt off.

“ajax,” your words trembled.

“yes, yes, midwife is coming in a minute, just take a deep breath,” he repeated the same words, moved to reach for the cold cloth, wringing it before gently patting your forehead and cheeks but you grabbed his wrists. “no, ajax, listen, something’s wrong,” his face changed. like a reflex, his hand rested on your belly.

“you have to check down there.”

blood drained out his face, “no, i-i can’t.”

“you have too! please, just help me check,” your words should’ve come out as a plea ended up being just a string of sobs. you never seen him trembled. of all the preparation you both had taken to welcome the baby, this wasn’t apart of it. you had never prepared for your first baby to be coming out dead nor ajax ever accepting that that option even exist. your worst nightmare had come to life. shaking to grab the blanket aside, he moved your dress aside before falling onto his ass. your sobs echoed louder in the room. his silence were terrifying. “y/n, the baby is out,” hearing that made you felt lightheaded.

“a-ajax, the baby’s not crying. ajax!”

both of you couldn’t recall the night clearly. it was a train of blurred film reels running in the back of your head. you remembered fractions of it; screaming for him to help the baby, him cradling his quiet baby trying his best to clear the mouth and the nose, the loud banging of the door. there were people, baby moving from one hand to another. you were getting tired, ajax’s trembling, bloody hands reaching for your weak hand. but when the reels ended and you heard a soft cries, your mind snapped.

you heard the baby’s first cry.

“take off your shirt, keep the baby against your chest, the mother has some more to do,” one of them said. your chest tightened as his hands left a void of emptiness within your own and you were forced back to pushing. it was more painful pushing a part of you out; the home that grew your child for nine long months that you felt half of your soul disappeared. you didn’t know why you were crying, slumping against the pillow didn’t realising a word you were saying until someone repeated it back.

“ajax, she’s calling for you.”

you felt like the world was black and white, a white background noise ringing in your ears until a finger brushed your cheeks. you didn’t realise you were crying but he was too. his cheeks as flushed as the baby whimpering against his bare chest. maybe you didn’t know what true love is when it comes to him but you knew a true love exists with the way he looked down on his child. you knew what happiness is when he smiled and the corner of his eyes wrinkled in excitement when he placed the baby against your chest.

“say hi to our child.”

a/n: gotcha ;)

© all content belongs to noritoshiikamo. do not modify or repost.

[callsign-bunnie]

You're all good hun! SO instead how about we go a simple hurt/comfort staple, : Alerudy waking up after nightmares of fire and gunshots with plenty of cuddles and soft assurances.

Perfect!

--

Rodolfo sighed as he pulled the meat out of the freezer. He'd forgotten to before Alejandro had gotten home and then Alejandro had been so loving and sweet... and one thing led to another and they'd ended up in bed and Rodolfo had forgotten to take it out.

He rubbed at his eyes, shivering a little from the cold of the freezer, though he was wearing Alejandro's shirt. He would likely never be comfortable naked even in his own home. The crux of being a private person.

Once it was in the fridge so it could thaw without Rodolfo having to worry about it getting too warm, he yawned and turned, going back to their bedroom. However, he paused when he heard noise coming from it, listening carefully.

Sobs. Rodolfo frowned, deeply. Alejandro never cried. Even though he'd lost the idea that it made someone weak, he just never did. Not unless it was really bad.

Rodolfo carefully stepped in the room. Alejandro was practically clinging to Rodolfo's pillow, his body wracked with horrible deep sobs. They shook his entire body and practically the bed. Rodolfo understand, in that moment, why they called them wails. If it weren't for the lack of volume, it would have fit perfectly.

"Ale, what happened?" He asked, gently, going over to Alejandro's side of the bed. He gasped as he was grabbed and in one motion was under Alejandro. Alejandro was kissing over his entire face, though tears dripped from his jaw onto Rodolfo's neck.

Alejandro didn't answer for a while before he finally stopped, burying his face in Rodolfo's neck. "I'd lost you. I didn't make it in time to save you from the fire and you died and... I lost you."

Rodolfo softened, closing his eyes. He wished he could say this was the first night Alejandro had woken up, distraught from a nightmare over it, but it'd been barely a year since it'd happened and Alejandro had woken up at least once a month, in some state of distress over the idea of Rodolfo having died.

Sometimes, it was Phillip Graves having gotten to Rodolfo instead of Alejandro. That had been a particularly rough one. Alejandro's brain had spun this tale of Rodolfo having been conditioned to be terrified of him and Rodolfo had ended up killing himself and Alejandro had woken up screaming for that one.

Another was Rodolfo not believing Alejandro would choose him and instead going to Valeria's side and while that hadn't necessarily done too much damage, Alejandro had spent almost an hour repeating that he would only ever choose Rodolfo.

But most of them were of Rodolfo dying in some horrific and gruesome way and poor Alejandro being left to deal with the aftermath of a life without Rodolfo.

Rodolfo closed his eyes. "I'm right here, Ale." He murmured and pet his hair. "I'm always going to be here."

Alejandro pulled away, looking down at Rodolfo. Rodolfo's heart broke when he saw him. His eyes were so red and puffy... He looked so distraught. "I never want you to die."

"I will do my best." Rodolfo smiled up at him, reaching up to touch his face.

"Leave the military. Retire." Alejandro nodded.

Rodolfo sighed. He'd been expecting it. This was also part of their night. Alejandro would beg him to leave the military. He was safer on the ranch. "Ale... I will tell you what I tell you every time you ask me to. Not until you do."

Alejandro made a frustrated noise and collapsed back on Rodolfo, half crushing him. "Please, Rudy, you're so much safer away from all of it."

"So are you. I joined with one goal in mind, to keep you alive." Rodolfo shrugged. "So, as long as you are in the military, so will I be."

Alejandro sounded distraught as he borderline begged Rodolfo. "Please.... Please, mi sol. I can't... I can't do this anymore. I am so terrified all of the time, please..."

"Alejandro." Rodolfo said, gently. "You know what will make me leave."

Alejandro went silent and then Rodolfo felt him sobbing into his shoulder again, his arms moving under Rodolfo's waist to pull him up tightly into him. It was almost uncomfortable, but Rodolfo wouldn't deny Alejandro this.

So, Rodolfo just held him. He cradled his head to his shoulder and rubbed his back. "I'll always be here, Alejandro. I'm right here."

[k-s-morgan]

Those Gentle Slopes: Snippet 3

So this snippet is more atypical than the ones I usually post. It serves as foreshadowing for one moment in S2 that I really dislike and consider OOC. Hopefully, it will help address it in a believable way)) It will also tie some in-story arcs together.  

----------------------------------------

Over the remaining hours of the night, he devised several new strategies to use against his lord. Then he watched the dawn approach, his eagerness keeping his human blood heated despite the morning chill. The servants started to wake up, their grumbles and complaints ruining the silence and nearly dissolving Young Master’s heartbeat in their annoying volume.

A set of footsteps approached his room. This was unusual, and Sebastian half-turned, positively intrigued.

“S-Sebastian?” a timid voice asked. The interest died when he recognised Mey-Rin, and he snapped his fingers, unlocking the door.

“Come in,” he said. She stumbled inside instantly, as if her anxiety was too overwhelming not to impose it on others.

“G-good morning,” she stammered. Her face was paler than usual, her eyes huge and worried — Sebastian could see it even under the glasses. “I’m sorry to disturb you, I am, it’s just that, I wanted to ask you a question. Yes. A question.”

She stopped talking suddenly, biting her lip in the most unappealing manner. Sebastian was never fond of waiting, but he was particularly unprepared for it now, when the day was about to begin and only two hours separated him and his lord from their morning ritual.  

“I’m listening,” he reminded her. Mey-Rin sniffed and rubbed her nose with her fingers.

“Do you, do you know something about prophetic dreams?” she asked hesitantly. “Is there a way to say that they are not usual dreams, that they show what might happen in the future? I mean, the real future is what I mean. Can dreams show it?”

Whatever Sebastian was expecting, this wasn’t it. The conversation suddenly became more interesting, and he bypassed Mey-Rin to close the door.

“Prophetic dreams,” he repeated, intrigued. He’d heard of such a phenomenon, but why it occurred remained a puzzle. Some demons had the power to control the dreams of humans and direct them as they wished; some, like Gremory, could share the glimpses of the future with others, but they rarely spent their talents on the mortal world unless they had a specific motive. Even in the unlikely case they decided to bestow their gift on someone, Mey-Rin would not be their choice.

But he still felt curious enough to learn the details.

“If you tell me more, I might be able to help you,” he said. Mey-Rin’s breath caught. Her heartbeat slowed and she took a single step in his direction, clearly perceiving him as a source of safety she currently needed.

“It was about our Young Master,” she whispered hoarsely, and all of a sudden, Sebastian’s interest sharpened to a burning need to hear what she had to say. He straightened, his attention intensifying.

“It’s strange,” Mey-Rin hiccupped. “It’s so very strange because I don’t usually dream about him, no, I don’t at all. I dream about—” Despite her distress, she blushed, and Sebastian resisted the urge to snap at her.

“You were talking about Young Master,” he reminded her reservedly. The blush faded to paleness again.

“Yes, yes I was,” Mey-Rin shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “In my dream, he was fighting someone with a sword. I only saw flashes, but they felt so very real. The fight was taking its toll on him, he was looking so pale and sickly — awful, just awful! And then he…” Mey-Rin gasped, as if merely remembering the images horrified her. No more words left her mouth, and Sebastian nearly growled in impatience.

“He what?” he snapped. His sharp voice made Mey-Rin jump.

“He lost!” she cried out, and the first tears touched the skin of her cheeks. “He died! Or at least I think he did — there was this crash and he was falling! It was a bad, bad dream, I never have dreams like this, I don’t, so why did I see it? Does it mean something? If something happens to Young Master—”

“Nothing will happen to him,” Sebastian said. Despite the sudden whirlwind of violence tugging at his insides, urging him to crush something, he managed to control his voice. His words were calm and collected. “Be reasonable, Mey-Rin. Our lord is under our constant surveillance. None of us would allow him to be placed in a situation where his life would be threatened. And he is too smart to start a fight he won’t be able to win.”

He wasn’t certain if he was trying to convince her or himself. His heart was still beating unpleasantly, the insides of his mouth tasting like bile. Why did some nightmare matter to him? Mey-Rin was a simple maid — not so simple, perhaps, but there was no reason to believe she could be having prophetic dreams. Ciel Phantomhive was and would always remain safe.

“You’re right!” bright relief lit Mey-Rin’s face up. “That’s right, Sebastian, sir. We, all of us will protect him! And our lord is so good at fencing, he would never lose to anyone!”

Coldness slid down Sebastian’s back, and he struggled not to show it, even though his muscles contracted involuntarily.

His Master was not good at fencing. In truth, he was quite terrible at it — they’d had only several lessons before the boy’s complaints and his pathetic attempts at physical effort tired Sebastian into terminating them.

Back then, this decision appeared rational. Ciel Phantomhive happened to be too fragile to sustain such physical trainings, and since Sebastian was destined to be by his side until his death, he knew they wouldn’t face situations where this skill would prove to be essential. Now, however…   

Now, nothing. Mey-Rin’s dream, nightmare, had no meaning. Sebastian was still here, the contract was intact, and if his Master ever needed to duel someone, he would be there to assist him. He would take the head off the boy’s opponent before anyone had a chance to challenge him.

[nyxdrabbles]

in desperate need of Sam railing afab farmer after a bad day for him💔

contents ✑ needy!Sam, oral ( f receiving ), begging, penetration ( p in v ), praising , orgasm control, accidental creampie, hair pulling

a/n ✑ here you go anon ^^ i made him a lilll desperate n needy as well cause I feel like Sam would spend hours on you just to take his mind away from his own frustrations. 1k wc

“Please… just a little longer.”

Sam whispered softly from where he laid between your quivering thighs, nose nudging against your throbbing clit with his tongue running over your folds as the lower half of his face was wet with your warm slick.

The cold shell of the mermaid pendent around his neck pressed against his hotter skin, making him shiver underneath you.

“Sa… Sam!— I can’t!” You cried out, pulling your hand from where it fisted at the sheets and brought up to his hair, roughly tugging on it backwards.

A trail of spit connected between his lips and your spit soaked cunt, snapping within seconds.

There was a low moan that slipped from his throat at the rough sensation.

“Just… one more, honey… please, I need you so bad…” He babbled, taking a grip on your thighs and slowly dragging your body down to him. “A-… At least, lemme fuck you… please…”

His swollen lips were parted as heavy pants and groaned left him with such ease.

You could see from the corner of your eyes how his hips rutted against the bed underneath him, a damp spot in the middle for his tight briefs.

Your mind couldn’t help but wander for a little, not noticing Sam slowly trailing wet kisses up your stomach til he reached your neck.

“Once…” You mumbled, listening to him repeat it with a mumbled voice, his head now tucked underneath your chin.

His hand briefly let go from your thigh, shuffling his briefs down enough to allow his cock free, slapping against his stomach. Making him gasp and buck his hips into the sheets involuntarily.

“…You’re t-… too good to me. Fuck—.”

Sam cut himself off with a moan, slipping his dripping and pulsing cock between your slick lips, the head just barely touching rubbing against your clit, skewing his eyebrows together at the feeling.

He gasped at the sensation while rutting against you, feeling how he glided easily in-between your lips, spreading your juices all over his length.

“Oh my god.” He breathed out heavily.

Your body shuttered as your thighs squeezed around his waist, which made him tighten his grip around them

“Shit—! You feel s.. so good, baby… all for me…” His voice trembled, soon trailing off into merely faint whimpers.

You tightened your grip on Sam’s hair and let out a whine when feeling his tip run over your entrance, nearly dipping into you before pulling again.

“Sa—!”

In a matter of seconds, Sam slowly sunk his cock into your cunt, taking the words out of your mouth and leaving you into nothing but a sloppy mess underneath.

His nails dung into the fat of your thighs, causing your warm walls to clench around him in a heartbeat — exiling a loud moan from you each.

If it weren’t for him holding himself back, Sam could’ve sworn he would’ve came within the few seconds of being fully sunken into your soppy cunt, feeling your walls pulse around him so well, it nearly made him whimper.

Body shuddering as heavy pants leave your lips, taking a moment to regain your senses, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck and reveled in the way your body pressed against his.

“I…- I’m… g’na move now…” Sam softly panted into your ear, squeezing your thighs once more.

He hadn’t bothered to wait any further, snapping his hips back before working up to a thrust — rewarding him with the pretty sounds of your moans.

Sam tugged your body closer, cock ramming in and out of your hole, the room filled with nothing but the claps of your skin and the lustful noises that left each of your lips.

“F-Fuck, baby! It’s s’tight!” He babbled out, heavy groaning into your ear. “Takin’ it like such a good…”

His voice lead out with a loud cry, feeling your cunt pulse around his cock at the simple praise of his words.

He ramped up his pace, rocking your body into the bed with each powerful thrusts, making you scream out in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut.

Your eyes peeled open with a sharp gasp, tightening your arms around Sam’s neck as you felt yourself coming closer to your release.

“S-.. Sam!”

Shaking his head, knowing what was gonna come out of your lips left.

“No… n-not yet, baby… A little…-” He groaned into your neck, his eyelashes fluttering. “…Almost.”

You could hear yourself whining, echoing off the walls of your bedroom, too lost in your own pleasure to be embarrassed.

“Please… Sam—! I can’t…! ‘Ts too much...!”

A choked up groan slipped from Sam, the needy heard in your voice being the cause of it, his teeth lightly scraping against your ear.

“Sam! Please! I-… I’m so close!—“

His cock ached for release at the heavenly sound of you, grinding your untouched clit against his lower abdomen.

“Cum f’me, baby, i need it… i need… lemme feel it, please.” Sam begged into your ear, sending a slight shiver down your spine.

“Fuck—! M’cumming—..!” You screamed out, squeezed your eyes shut, your walls fluttering around Sam’s length, pushing him over his edge as he soon came deep inside you — half mindedly.

His body intensely shuddering against yours, feeling your warm slick coat his lower half, his weight shifting on top of you.

Your heavy breaths combined while you both slowly recovered over each of your intense orgasms, Sam being the first to move.

He slowly leaned up on his elbows, resting his forehead against yours before connecting your lips, sharing a lazy and sloppy kiss.

It felt like a couple minutes til you slowly pulled away while letting your arms drop from around his neck, feeling your quivering cunt weakly clench around his softening cock.

Sam let out a soft hiss, slowly pulling out with a grunt, glancing down and watching as his seed spill onto the sheets.

“Oh fuck.” He whispered nervously, moving to lean off of you.

“Sam… did you…”

[monotonous-minutia]

I'm losing my mind a little over here

[soleilnomoon]

i'm back. well, technically, I never left. I hereby submit a formal request for an art college type AU with Usopp needing to draw someone (reader or a strawhat of your choice) for an assignment. idc if it's sfw or nsfw cause ya know i trust your judgement. thankies!

babey, babey, babey art college au?? usopp??? i loved writing every word; this took me a month & a half, but yk how it is, i always want perfection for u — and this is far from it, but hear me out...૮₍  ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა ok...i got nothin', chief. ily, siempre tho (u already know) 💓💓💓

1.5k words, gn reader (no pronouns), sfw (shock, gasp, awe), slightly suggestive, fluff???, tiny bit of angst (maybe a little more idk), 18+, mdni; art college au!, usopp is a shy coward and reader is full of sass & can't read the room; nothing major, death mention and that's about it. a very tame kaia production, i think

to be an artist is to willingly carry the burdens of the world, to mold their creations with clumsy, earnest fingers, to sculpt an absurd idea of the truth with precision, to paint the fleeting feelings of the masses without restraint, and to scrape any unnecessary remains onto a stained, concrete floor.

it's messy; an ordeal that requires dedication, innate talent, and an overwhelming desire to survive.

once upon a time, when everything in his life was still bright and full of promise, his mother often boasted to her friends — and almost anyone who would listen, really — about his artistic prowess. on days where she had energy, she’d say, take a look, he’s done it again; and when she was weary, but still proud, oh, goodness, you’re truly a wonder; but, the most poignant moment, the one phrase — question, rather — that stuck with him years later, even after her death, was: do you know the color of a person’s soul, usopp? the true color? i wish i could see you paint it. i know it will be spectacular.

it's not grief that drives him to pour his heart into his work, and it’s not out of any residual feelings of sadness, but because of his mother’s last words — he still remembers how he strained to hear her speak, how he begged her to repeat herself, how he cried himself to sleep for days and days. he’s a night owl out of spite — to chase his inner demons away, to not let her haunt his heart more than she already does — and he’s committed himself to mastering a style that’s uniquely his, so that he can tell his story the proper way.

after weeks of looking for a model for his latest assignment, he finds you by chance — with charcoal-stained fingertips that you constantly wipe on your jeans, a smudge on your cheek from when you rubbed it minutes ago, hair haphazardly thrown into a messy bun, curls poking out everywhere, the pinnacle of concentration and rebellion.

you, who frequently defies your professors’ suggestions, who reminds them time and time again that no you can’t simply change your piece because it doesn’t follow their guidelines, and no you can’t commit to turning in assignments on time because “art is freedom, why are you so persistent?”

and you refuse to be confined into their neatly labeled boxes.

he wishes he could have a tiny piece of your boldness, of your dedication to remaining true to yourself, of your outlandish outlook on life where you defy expectations without a care.

or he thinks so, anyway.

after the other students have filtered out of the classroom, you remain behind, tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek, lips pursed as you consider a new angle for your piece. he watches the quick, messy dark marks that adorn your canvas — you’ve been working on it for hours without rest. your dedication to your craft (to your truth) is admirable, if not a little intense, so much that it’s hard for him to approach you.

cowardice seeps through his bloodstream, pumping directly into his heart, making it more difficult for him to speak — let alone to ask you for help.

but you glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, lashes partially obscuring your eyes when you blink slowly.

he’s always believed that art is always imperfectly perfect, but you? he doubts he really knows the true meaning of art now.

“h-hey,” he says after a while, throat dry, palms moist and unsure. you pivot and stare, a curious smile prancing onto your lips, the edges curling impishly before you respond cheekily.

“after staring at me for so long, that’s all you have to say?”

you click your tongue in jest, and his face burns painfully — embarrassment eating him alive, making him fidget with the strap of his bag, where he nearly falls over the stool behind him. you attempt to quiet your laughter, but you can’t help yourself. he’s always like that — fidgety, lost, boisterous at times, but also a little serious. you wonder if he spends his life seeped in his passiveness, and he wonders if you’ve always been this vibrant and honest — reminding him of a few of his closest friends who never shy away from the truth no matter what it may be.

“chill, i’m just kidding,” you say when you realize he might’ve taken you seriously. “it’s no big deal, really.” you’ve learned that there’s no harm in people looking at you, no matter what their reasoning is. “did you need something?” because he rarely speaks to you, and he certainly doesn’t talk to you like that.

usopp shifts on his feet, tongue suddenly too big for his mouth, his words clumsily knocking against the back of his teeth; but after inhaling deeply, a bit of his anxiety rolls off of his skin, drips down to the floor — out of sight, out of mind.

“i, um,” he rubs the back of his neck, warm, russet brown skin still struggling with the overwhelming heat that’s permanently settled on his face. “well, see… i haven’t found anyone to p-pose for my assignment, so—”

“sure.” your voice is clear, decisive; you barely leave wiggle room for any argument, and that — the sheer oppressive power behind your assertiveness is what terrifies him. your intensity might literally kill him if he’s not careful.

“oh, okay, yeah.” feeling a little more confident, he puts his bag down and grabs his large sketch pad. he sits on the stool and motions for you continue as you were.

with raised brows, you shoot him an unreadable look, but don’t offer any clarification. you face your canvas again and attack it with vigor, dropping the charcoal and opting to use oil pastels instead. you don’t think as you move your arm, instead allowing the flow to come naturally as you begin dotting colors all around; you’ve been in an impressionist sort of mood, wanting to encapsulate the unhurried movements of field of flowers surrounded in flames. you’re not quite sure what possesses you, but it came to you in a dream and you couldn’t stop until you brought it to life.

during your freshman year, someone callously remarked that you were demented, a lost cause — someone to watch out for. but usopp begs to differ; as he sits and observes, twirling his conté stick around his fingers before settling down in front of the easel and sketching lightly. he notices that you tend to move around a lot, bouncing on your feet, as if the floor is too hot for you to tolerate at times; you also talk to yourself, which he doesn’t find unusual because he also talks to himself.

maybe you both have more in common than he originally thought. for some reason, the corners of his lips twitch, he finds himself smiling, albeit bashfully, at the idea.

you peek over at him as you work, admiring his steadfast dedication, the precise movements of his wrist, the delicate way he holds the conté stick. you’ve never cared about the work of others, but you’d be lying to yourself if you say you’re not even remotely curious about how he sees you.

usopp works in silence for about thirty minutes before you decide to stop for the night.

he’s done several gesture drawings of you, one more animated than the last, wanting to capture the fluidity and beauty of your movements without interruption. you might just be the perfect subject to study, if he’s honest. and while he definitely has more than enough to work with, he doesn’t really want to stop sketching you.

he knows he can’t say that, so he keeps it to himself, allowing the words to die down on the back of his tongue as he pushes the easel back to its proper place.

after leaving your signature messy scrawl on the bottom corner of your picture, you walk over to glance at his work, but he’s already grabbed the sketch pad and shoved it into his portfolio case. he clears his throat several times, almost comically, but you refrain from laughing — this time.

“thank you for your assistance,” usopp says with a grin; he wears his false bravado with ease, but he’s tragically unconvincing. you smile encouragingly at him and wink.

“anytime, cutie.”

while you contemplate whether or not you’ll showcase this particular piece of yours, he stammers over his words, mumbles something in haste and, quite literally, scurries away. you’re not sure if you’ve permanently scared him off, but you have a feeling he’ll come back and ask for that favor again. as he makes his way out of the building, nearly tripping down the stares with all of his hurried movements, he tries to remind himself that he has to be more careful. he’s sure you almost saw through his act; all of that courage deflates and he slows his steps, glancing over at the building again, wondering if maybe — just maybe — he’ll find a chance to show you his finished work.

it’s not the answer to the question that he’s been struggling with for the entirety of his adolescence and adult life, but it’s certainly a good start.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

There With You

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Words: 2532

Summary: A panic attack during the Victor’s tour leaves the reader gasping for breath backstage. Her fiance is able to calm her down, but now she’s afraid that what’s real and what’s pretend will blur together.

Notes: This is another kind of comfort fic based on my own experience, so I hope someone out there can connect with it. I love reading things to help calm myself down, so I hope that my comfort imagines can do that for somebody else. Plus Peeta is one of my comfort characters, so it works out. (Also, the reader has taken Katniss’ place in this scenario. Still love Katniss, but this fit the story)

Warnings: Panic attack, anxiety, the like (This is not a depiction of every kind of panic attack. This is just what I have experienced in the past)

-

None of this was supposed to happen. There wasn’t supposed to be two of you. There weren't supposed to be riots. The romance wasn’t supposed to be real.

Then why was he the only one keeping you from sprinting off that stage?

Peeta’s fingers were intertwined with yours as he spoke to the crowd, keeping you grounded. You tried to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the hundreds of eyes staring up at you. You looked up at the screens and saw her looking back at you. Her. The first person you’d ever killed and you couldn’t even bring yourself to think of her name.

Your breathing hitched and you could feel the squeezing, twisting grip around your throat. No no no not now. Not in front of the entire crowd. What would President Snow do to you if you broke down in front of an entire district? What would he do to Peeta?

“Thank you.” Peeta finished up his speech and a few people in the crowd reluctantly applauded. His eyes locked on your face, seeing a single tear fall down your cheek and he quickly led you off the stage.

He knew that District 9 would be the hardest for you. He still remembered the knife and the blood and the gore. You had killed her to save him. And now you had to live with that for the rest of your life.

The doors closed behind you and you immediately fell back against them, clutching your chest with your free hand. You ripped open the buttons on your high-necked dress, foolishly thinking that it would make it easier to breathe. The invisible hand had closed around your throat, knees crushing down your chest. When you closed your eyes, Clove was on top of you, choking the life out of you slowly, whispering all of the ways she was going to torment Peeta once you were gone.

“Let’s get her out of here.” Haymitch said, his expression a mix of worry and unease. He knew the image of a weak Victor would mean more problems that you weren’t ready to deal with. He remembered what it was like to be under the eye of the Capitol.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. Peeta, I can’t keep-” You gasped in between shaky breaths. Your vision was blurred at the sides and you were gripping the door to keep from collapsing. “I-I-”

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now.” Peeta said, putting a hand on your cheek. “Can you walk to the train?” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to bring your hands away from the door. Peeta looked back at Haymitch and Effie for a moment before turning back to you. “I’m going to carry you, okay?” You must have nodded because he kissed your cheek before scooping you up in his arms.

Your hands released the door and instead latched onto the lapel of his jacket. Every part of you was shaking and the weight on your chest was only getting heavier.

“P-Peeta.” You cried, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’ve got you. We’re almost there.” He tried to hide the crack in his voice, trying to be the strong one for you, but seeing you like this split his heart in half. Haymitch and Effie huddled around you, trying to block the two of you from any prying eyes or cameras.

You didn’t notice when they finally got you onto the train. In your head, you were still on that stage, staring out at the little brothers of the girl you murdered. You thought for sure you were suffocating. Every breath was becoming harder and more painful than the last and the blackness at the edge of your vision was growing.

Peeta sat down, holding you in his lap and gently stroking his fingers through your hair.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You aren’t in the arena. You’re here with me.” He buried his face in your neck, gently pressing a kiss to the place between your shoulder and your spine. “You’re with me.”

“I’ll never leave that arena.” You whispered, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard you.

This was far from the first attack you’d had since winning the games, but it was certainly the worst.

Haymitch and Effie just watched you with sympathetic eyes for a moment before leaving the two of you alone. Peeta held you tight until your breathing started to return to a steady pace. While your vision cleared, your body couldn't stop shaking and you couldn’t seem to pry your hands away from his jacket.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed, trying to wipe panicked tears away on your sleeve.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have made you go out there with me. I knew what it was going to be like for you and I should have-”

“They wouldn’t have let you go out there alone.” You shook your head. “There’s no hiding from them, Peeta.” You repeated your words like an echo, over and over again. “I’ll never leave that arena.”

“Then I’m right there with you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and stood up, keeping you pressed against his chest. “Come on, we should try and get some sleep before we reach the next District.”

He carried you to your compartment and tucked you under the covers. He crawled up beside you without you having to ask. It had become an unsaid thing between the two of you. You kept the nightmares away as best as you could and when one of you woke up afraid, you weren’t alone.

-

Peeta had proposed for the cameras the day you left for the Victor’s tour, but it was all for show. The Capitol ate it up. When you really said yes, it was a week prior, just the two of you in the calming quiet in a meadow outside of the fence. It meant more that way.

Of course, Effie had picked out an extravagant ring for you to wear on stage and everything. It was gaudy and heavy and enough jewels to feed three districts for a month. But like the faked proposal, it wasn’t what was real.

You twisted the small bronze band around your finger, examining it in the faint light coming through the train windows. You had been awake for about an hour now, but Peeta’s peaceful sleep kept you from stirring. You rested in the warmth of his embrace and listened carefully to the slow, comforting sound of his heart beat.

You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Rise and shine you two.” Effie burst through the door and Peeta instantly went rigid beneath you, jolting up and pushing you behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but his expression frightened Effie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I-”

“No, Effie, it’s okay. Really.” He said apologetically, his expression softening. “We’ll be out for breakfast in a second.”

“Alright. Don’t be long. I know they want to do a feature on engaged life. A little romance might be just what you two need.” She gave you both a small smile before walking out, the door sliding shut behind her. Peeta laid back on his elbows, blowing out a low sigh.

“I didn’t mean to scare her. I just heard the door open and all I could think was that someone was here to take you away.” He pulled you back down to him and gently pressed his lips to yours. Truthfully, he’d been in the middle of a nightmare when he heard Effie enter. He thought that the images in his head were becoming real.

“She’ll be okay.” You concluded, drawing circles on his chest . “Effie is tougher than she seems. And she knows what we’ve been through.” Despite her bright and sometimes obnoxiously optimistic attitude, you knew that Effie wasn’t a mindless pawn from the Capitol. She saw what the games did to you. She saw the children behind the victors.

Breakfast was mostly had in a settled quiet. While neither of you said anything, Haymitch glanced over at you and you nodded to let him know that you were okay. It was that silent understanding that was the foundation of your relationship with your former mentor.

“They’re doing an update interview to see how the Capitol’s darling lovebirds have been enjoying their tour.” Haymitch said gruffly. “Which means lots of blushing and doe-eyes from you two.”

“That won’t be hard.” Peeta noted, looking over at you. He meant it sweetly, but something about it sent a shiver of dread down your spine. You ignored it, giving him a small smile.

“It’s comforting to know we won’t need to convince anybody of the whole hopeless romantic thing.” Haymitch made a face. “You two do a wonderful job of making me nauseous all on your own.” Effie smacked him with her rolled up napkin.

“I think it’s wonderful.” She mused dreamily. “How something like that could bring you together.”

You stiffened, keeping your eyes on your plate, pushing your eggs around mindlessly with your fork. Sometimes you forgot that this was still all a TV show for people to gawk at. You would be the star crossed lovers from District 12 for the rest of your lives. No amount of real emotion you felt for Peeta was going to erase that.

The other three seemed to notice your shift and finished their meal in silence. Haymitch excused himself to the dining car for likely the rest of the day and Effie left to work on the speeches you’d have to read in front of District 8. You hadn’t eaten a bite, opting to sip slowly at your coffee instead.

“Just a few more days and we’ll get to go home.” Peeta said, noticing your empty stare and untouched meal. You just nodded, not really hearing him.

-

“So tell us, Peeta, when did you know that you wanted to propose?” Caesar grinned into the camera.

“Honestly, I knew the moment we stepped out of the arena that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” Peeta gave your hand a squeeze and looked at you with complete and utter adoration. Caesar gasped in awe, eating up the fluffy romance that Peeta was perfect at portraying.

Is that all this is? The thought penetrated your mind before you could stop it. A performance? Is everything he says for the sake of the camera?

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive you for not including me in the moment, Peeta.” Caesar pouted. “But it was just so sweet I can’t stay mad at you!” The two laughed and you forced a loving smile. “Really, proposing in front of the bakery just before you left for the tour- why, it’s probably the most romantic thing I have ever seen.”

“I’m glad it came off that way, because I was a nervous wreck!” Peeta exclaimed and they laughed again. You had to admire his acting ability. Maybe that’s what scared you so much.

He’s just performing. Is he performing with you?

“I think we all want to know,” Caesar beamed, turning his attention to you, “what was going through your head, Y/N? When Peeta got down on one knee?”

You pushed any doubt from your head and just focused on everything you knew was real. “Honestly, Caesar, I can’t think of a happier moment in my life. I never knew what I was missing until we found each other.”

“Don’t these two just make you believe in love, Claudius?” He gushed to his costar. “We’ll let the two of you get back to your tour, but I can’t say how excited we are to have you all to ourselves here in the Capitol.”

“We can’t wait.” Peeta grinned. You both smiled broadly, waiting for the little red recording light to turn off. As soon as the cameras were gone, Peeta lifted your hand up to his lips. “That went well.” He muttered against the skin of your palm.

“Yeah. I think they definitely believe that we’re the perfect couple.” You hadn’t meant to say it so bitterly, but as soon as the words left your mouth, Peeta’s expression changed.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes were different, the charisma that was there with Caesar was gone. His worry seemed to stem from something real, but you just couldn’t convince yourself that it was.

“Nothing.” None of this is real. It’s all just the games. What if you’re still in the arena? What if this is all in your head? You broke away from him, trying to hide the panic growing and growing inside you until it was all you could feel. You could hear him saying your name, but it sounded garbled and far away, like he was whispering in the rain.

What seized you now was unlike you’d ever felt before. Not only was it the dark panic that blurred your vision and tightened your throat until you couldn’t breathe- it was a complete disconnect from reality. It was like you were trapped inside one of their screens and you were banging on the glass, trying to get out.

-

You didn’t realize you had fainted until you woke up in Peeta’s arms. His was sitting up, cradling you in his lap like he had before, only now you were in your room and you had a blanket draped around your shoulders. You jerked away, your mind still terrified that even this wasn’t real.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“This isn’t real. None of this is real.” You whispered in a panic, still trying to push away from him. This was the Capitol. They were in your head. “You aren’t real.” As hard as you shoved against him, his strong arms were locked around you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you closer.

“I’m right here. I’m real. Just breathe. Come on, stay with me.” While his voice was soothing, your vision was still blurred with hot tears.

“We can never escape this. Every second of our lives belongs to them. Nothing is real. It’s all theirs.”

Peeta pulled away, taking your hand in his. He slid the bronze ring off your finger and held it up.

“This is ours. It’s not Snow’s, it’s not the Capitol’s, it’s ours. It’s real and it’s ours.” He put the ring back on and moved your hand to his chest. You could feel his heart beating beneath your fingertips. “I’m real,” He looked at you with a gentle and yet intense love, “and I am completely yours.”

You wiped away your tears and laid a hand on his cheek. “Peeta-”

“And no matter the nightmare, no matter the fear, or when your mind takes you back to the games, just remember I will always be there with you.”

He pulled you back to him and the two of you remained- away from the cameras and away from the Capitol. At least for now, you weren’t victors. You were a boy and a girl who had saved each other.

[sinner-as-saint]

‘yes daddy.’

Sambucky x Reader 

Run-through: The two soldiers make their way home to you after a long and tiring mission; knowing that only you can take their mind off things and help them wind down. The mission was lengthy and exhausting, leaving them both grumpy and frustrated. And they don’t plan on being gentle with you either… 

Themes: smut, threesome, fluff, sambucky, dirty talk, language, daddy kink

a/n: this is pure filth. I’m not sorry. 

“Stop squirming, kitten. Be good for daddy.” 

Sam’s smooth, deep voice whispered in your ear, making your core tremble in more ways than one. You could only whine in response, throwing your head back onto Sam’s shoulder as you felt the overwhelming sensation in between your legs. It was growing, more and more, taking over you. It had been for the past hour. But in the back of your head you knew you weren’t allowed to cum just yet. Bucky pushed the vibrator further into you, his lips parted and a playful look in his wild blue eyes as he watched you writhe under him. 

“Please daddy… please…” you whined. Desperate and your body damp with sweat. Your mind was a foggy mess. “I’m sorry…” you mumbled out an apology. 

Sam scoffed at your weak apology. “You’re doing so well babygirl,” Bucky murmured, “but you’re not allowed to cum, not after being such a bad little girl while Sam and I were away.” 

Behind you, at Bucky’s words, you felt Sam’s grip tightening on your wrists; keeping them secure in his grasp at your lower back, while his other hand reached around and fondled your breasts. You moaned as Bucky turned the vibrator up and placed it right on top of your entrance, making your legs shake as you tried to close them. But he was kneeling right in between them, with his metal arm pressing your hips down on the bed, so there was not much you could do. You had nowhere to escape, you absolutely had to endure the sweet torture. You earned it. 

Sam and Bucky were gone for 2 weeks, on a long mission. And they left one rule for you to follow - you were not to touch yourself, or pleasure yourself sexually in any way because that was “their job.” Did you abide by it? Absolutely not. And you were also careless enough to leave all your toys out in the open - which was the first thing they saw once they stepped into your shared bedroom. So now you were being ‘punished’. 

You whined in pleasure, but Bucky quickly shut you up by pushing his metal fingers past your lips. “Aww, what is it baby? Is it too hard to hold back?” he cooed and pulled his fingers out and then pushed them back in again. “Well then you should’ve been a good girl when you were asked to.” Bucky taunted, smirking and wiggling the wand a little and making you whine louder. And to add on to your sweet torture, Sam trailed his hand down from your chest to your core and gently circled your clit with his two fingers. 

“You made us a promise, kitten. Then you went on and broke it.” Sam growled in your ear as he unexpectedly smacked you right on your clit, making you bite your lip and moan loudly. “When did you start acting like such a brat, huh?” his fingers circled your clit lazily as he spoke, “Maybe we’ve been too easy on you, isn’t it?” he nibbled on the shell of your ear, “Spoil you too much, don’t we kitten?” 

His voice made your damp body tremble. You were aching, desperate, your body burning with desire and need. But the soldiers were hell bent on teaching you a lesson. Your thighs trembled as Bucky messed with you. He changed the setting on the wand, making it more intense while Sam teased your clit, and tilted your head back and kissed you like he owned you; pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. You whimpered in pleasure. 

Bucky pulled his fingers from your mouth and grabbed your jaw rather harshly, making you open your eyes and face him. “Sam’s right. We’ve been spoiling you too much.” you shivered at the tone of his voice. Deep. Angry. Hot. He held your stare as he spoke, making you whine just from the intensity of his eyes. “From now on, you’re gonna have to beg nicely for everything.” He scoffed. 

Bucky moved the vibrator around while Sam kissed down your neck. You felt the pressure forming in between your legs, again and you desperately tried to chase your orgasm. Bucky noticed and lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release yet again. You cried out, hazy with lust, “Please daddy, I’ll be a good girl I promise…” 

You earned yourself a smack on your thighs from Sam. “Quiet.” he growled in your ear, “You’re gonna take everything that we give you, you hear me?” Sam’s voice reverberated and it gave you chills even despite being trapped in between their body heat. “Answer me, kitten.” he said, sternly. 

You gasped at the tone he used. “Yes, daddy.” 

“Good girl.” 

 You were a mess trapped in between them. Your moans muffled either by one of their mouths on yours, or their fingers pushed inside your mouth trying to keep you quiet. Tears of frustration streamed down your face as they kept teasing you; keeping you right on the edge but not letting you come undone. You were a tear-stained mess in no time. They had been teasing you relentlessly for God knows how long now. With toys, their mouths, their hands, Sam even made you ride his thigh at some point all while Bucky teased you with his cold, metal fingers until you were a whimpering mess, unable to speak coherently. 

“Did you learn your lesson baby? Do you promise to be a good girl now and listen to daddy?” Bucky asked as Sam wiggled the wand around. They had switched positions at some point and they could both tell that you had reached your limit and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You nodded quickly, forcing your eyes open to look into Sam’s mesmerising dark brown eyes. “Say it kitten, say you’re sorry.” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you briefly. You moaned into the kiss and whimpered as he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry daddy,” you cried. “I’ll be good I promise, just please-,” you cut yourself off by moaning loudly when Sam tossed the toy aside and replaced it with his warm mouth. 

His tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease. He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than earlier. You felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. “I missed tasting your sweet little cunt so much…” he looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure. “Look at me.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 

You looked down in between your legs and found Sam settle in between them. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs as he ate you out like a mad man, unrestrained and focused on making you lose your mind. Meanwhile, Bucky turned your head to the side, kissing you without a care in the world while he pinched and toyed with your nipples. You moaned into his mouth and you could feel him smirk into the kiss. 

“Too much, is it babygirl?” he mumbled against your lips as he felt your body tremble against him. Sam was relentless and you weren’t going to last too long and they both knew that. You nodded at Bucky with a pleading look on your face, feeling the pressure build nicely in between your hips again. 

“Please…” you cried out, whimpering and begging them to take you already. You could no longer deal with this teasing. Sam smirked as he kissed along your inner thighs before getting back to where you needed him the most. Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, but he didn’t mind it one bit. You whined and whimpered; with your legs wrapped around his head. 

“Come for me kitten, come for daddy.” Sam whispered against your wet folds, his warm breath making you shiver. His piercing eyes watched you cautiously as you let go and came all over his tongue, moaning and whimpering as you did. 

Bucky growled as he watched you come undone, he could no longer take it either. He barely gave you enough time to recover as he positioned you in between him and Sam again. 

You found yourself on all fours in the middle of the bed, with Sam in front of you; his cock in your mouth while Bucky pushed into you from behind. Sam groaned as you took him into your mouth as much as you could; he held your face gently and watched you intently with parted lips how you took him so perfectly. He grunted and hissed in pleasure as struggled just a little to fit him into your mouth.

Bucky was just as focused; your soaking cunt wrapped around his cock perfectly, your walls inviting him in just how he liked it. “Fuck… babygirl you feel so tight around daddy’s big cock.” Bucky mumbled as he pulled out and pushed all the way back into you. His actions caused your mouth to move along Sam’s thick cock and that elicited a loud groan out of him. 

You looked up at Sam, and your walls clenched around Bucky as the noises left his mouth. Sam held your face gently and slowly pushed himself deeper in and out of your mouth. You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in until he hit the back of your throat. You felt all of him; his smooth skin, his raw taste, and you repeated your actions again and again, hollowing your cheeks when needed. Bucky pounded into you from behind. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he rammed his cock in and out of you incessantly; groaning and grunting as your warmth wrapped around him perfectly.

Sam came first, coming undone all over your tongue and watching you swallow all of him, while Bucky sped up into you, chasing his orgasm as well. He moaned when he felt your walls clench around him, squeezing and milking him as he went. You felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so desperate and needy. Sam finally pulled his cock from your mouth and tugged on your hair so you looked up at him. Your whole body shook as Bucky pounded relentlessly into you from behind. Sam smirked as he looked into your eyes.

“You secretly love being treated like this, don’t you kitten?” Sam whispered, and half of his words didn’t even make sense because Bucky was fucking your brains out at the same time. Sam smirked. You couldn’t hold back anymore, Bucky was stretching you out just how you liked it and it was hard to hold back anymore. “Beg for it, come on.” Sam let go of your face and you whimpered at the loss of his warm touch. 

So you begged. Wantonly, without any shame. 

“Daddy, may I please come?” you whined, closing your eyes and leaning forward, pressing your forehead to Sam’s abdomen. 

Bucky grunted, and you felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, and he groaned, “Cum for me babygirl,” he whispered under his breath before coming undone just seconds later; buried deep within you; growling and mumbling profanities as he came. 

You came right after, moaning and trembling between them both. Sam caressed your face and wiped your tears away as you allowed your orgasm to wash over you. Your body trembled. You could still feel Sam’s in your mouth while Bucky pulled out and watched his cum trickle out of you and onto the sheets. You were panting and whimpering, and luckily they held you up otherwise you would have collapsed on the bed completely. 

Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and held your trembling body against his warm one. “You okay, kitten?” he whispered in your ear as you hid your face into the crook of his neck. Your heart was still racing, and your body was throbbing but you nodded. 

“Thank you daddy.” you added. Sam wrapped his strong arms around you but given by the way he chuckled, you could tell they weren’t entirely done with you yet. 

And that’s how you found yourself trapped in between the two soldiers you loved so much. Sam was behind you while Bucky was in front. Bucky gripped your hips and settled your body right in between him and Sam. You could tell by the look in their eyes that they couldn’t wait to fuck you at the same time.

You whimpered, your core throbbing and sore but ready for them at the same time. Your heart raced like crazy. You were worn out, but desperate still. Sam went first; he lathered his cock with the lube and toyed with your hole for a bit before he pushed his thick cock slowly into you. The lube made it easier for him to fill you up and he had you whimpering and moaning in no time. Your moans were shameless and obscene.

You whimpered and you leaned forward and rested your forehead on Bucky’s shoulder to steady yourself, but before you could catch your breath and adjust to Sam’s size, Bucky guided his cock over to your folds and pushed himself into you as well. 

All three of you moaned at the same time once they were both seated into you. You felt your holes stretching with both of their cocks inside of you and you felt so full that you could barely talk. You gripped Bucky’s arm tightly and leaned your head back onto Sam’s shoulder. Trying to accommodate both of them inside you was always exciting and your ability to think straight was long gone.

Sam placed a gentle kiss on your temple and you felt his hands grip your waist as he moved in and out of you gently. Bucky kissed along your jaw and down your neck as he did the same. They moved in and out of you with a comfortable pace which created a momentum; granting all of you the pleasure you desperately needed. Especially you, given they had teased you for hours probably. 

Your walls clenched equally tight around each of them and the wet sounds your bodies made were sinful enough to make you almost lose your mind. Sam bit down on your shoulder, whispering how good you felt while his arm tightened around you and he firmly placed his palm against your abdomen, right above your core. He could feel each one of Bucky’s thrust and the bulge which formed each time Bucky’s thick cock filled you up. So did you; moaning at how full you felt.

“This will teach you better than to break our rules, babygirl.” 

All you could focus on was their voices, their moans and their body heat as it wrapped around you. They knew just what you needed, and they gave you just that without any shame. They both moved perfectly against you, your heart beats and breaths in sync. You felt the pressure growing in between your legs again, and you could no longer hold it back anymore. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” 

You were sensitive and needy. You felt your walls clenching around both of them, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you came violently around both of them. You cried out; with actual tears streaming down your face and you whimpered as they kept going even after you came; pounding into you from both sides and chasing their own release. The sounds of the moans and grunts coming from them made your body tingle, and you throbbed still.

Bucky came right after you with a loud moan, which you could swear was the hottest thing you ever heard. Sam came after both of you, panting as he carefully slipped out of you; letting his cum drip down your skin again. You whimpered when Bucky pulled out of you, you felt his cum oozing out of your folds and dripping down your thighs.

Your body felt heavy and limp, so you just leaned back against Sam while Bucky kissed your lips roughly. You were sure you would be sore even tomorrow. Sam wrapped his arms tightly around you and kissed your temple. “You did so well, baby.” he whispered against your skin and kissed the side of your face.

 --

You woke up the next morning still trapped in between the two men, under the covers this time. Limbs tangled with one another but that was okay. You smiled as you felt their hands on you. Both of their arms wrapped around you and holding you close to them. You opened your eyes and found that they were both still asleep. So you tried to wiggle your way out of their grip and out of bed so you could go downstairs and make them a big breakfast since it was their first day back. 

But as soon as you moved a bit, you felt both of their arms tighten around you. You groaned in defeat, given you wouldn’t be able to surprise them with breakfast anymore. 

“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Sam mumbled and pulled you back to where you were initially, close against his warm chest. 

“Running away?” Bucky whispered and leaned in to kiss your forehead, scooting closer to you and Sam. 

“Nooo,” you protested, bringing both of their hands up to your lips so you could kiss their knuckles. “I was gonna make breakfast.” 

Bucky smiled sleepily at you. “There’s no need, baby. We can go out for breakfast later. Come here,” he pulled you into him, Sam’s arm still around you. “I missed you so much. We both did.” he confessed. 

“I missed you too. Both of you.” you mumbled against his neck. “And I’m sorry I broke our rule.” you pouted, but then giggled when you felt Sam gently tickling your sides. 

“It’s okay baby, you’re forgiven.” Sam whispered and kissed the back of your neck. “As always, you little brat.” 

“At least try to hide it when you’re being a little rebel next time, okay?” Bucky taunted, and he earned himself a dirty look and a pout from you. He laughed when he saw it. Sam chuckled as well. 

“You guys are mean.” you tried to get up again but they pulled you back into bed and tickled the hell out of you until you were crying laughing and gasping for air. 

Sure, they were a handful. But you were glad they were home, finally.

[kimnjss]

pls i jus need to see do it again! yoongi for fucking yn rough as punishment for going out drinking after a fight and being angry at paparazzi pics of some guy following her around the club ❤️‍🔥

do it again drabble. explicit. 1.8K words.

>>

“it's not even that big of a deal!” eyes rolling as you storm away from him, once again. yoongi is two steps behind you the entire time, no intention of dropping the subject. no matter how many times you try to stomp off. “it is a big deal, yn! do you not get how this looks? you're my girlfriend,”

your dead set on ignoring him, focusing a little too hard on changing into your pajamas. “i don't belong to you,” you're saying in the emotionless tone that you know that he hates. deep down you know that you're wrong. you should've never left in the middle of a fight and the fact that you went out drinking didn't help.

an exact repeat of what broke you guys up the first time around, except this time you were the bad guy. yoongi, though, was just so annoying when he was right so you had every intention to argue your point until you were blue in the face.

so no, it wasn't a big deal that you left. and the guy that you met (which you didn't sleep with, so that sets you apart from him) just wanted to walk you to your car. it's not your fault that paparazzi caught the interaction on camera and now were spinning the entire incident. you couldn't control what they decided to type!

“you don't belong to me!?” the wrong thing to say to your possessive and extremely jealous boyfriend. especially while angry.

you both know the answer to that question, so you ignore him, eyes focused on yourself in the mirror as your fingers move to work the buttons of your shirt. you're trying not to look at him, because truth be told, your boyfriend was unlawfully hot when he was angry. and you weren't actually annoyed, just looking for reasons to stress him out.

he takes two long strides before he's standing in front of you. you're baring your neck, predicting his actions and he lets out a humorless chuckle as his palm wraps around your neck. barely squeezing but enough to get your attention. “you're mine. say it,” you make a show of keeping your lips pressed together, shaking your head from side to side.

yoongi uses the grip he has on your neck to pull your head forward, mouth luring yours into a sloppy kiss. you hate how quickly you melt into him, hands gripping the sides of his shirt as your jaw falls slack for him. he licks into your mouth, teeth biting into your skin and you take everything he gives you with needy whimpers.

you don't even realize the way your hands travel, fingertips gliding down the front of his body until they're latching onto his belt buckle. you're tugging him closer to him, feeling the hardness of his cock against your lower belly. what you had been arguing about flying out of your mind.

he notices, pulling back from your mouth in an instant. pink tongue pushing out to break the line of saliva that connects your lips and he's got this look in his eye like he could swallow you whole. you wouldn't mind seeing him try.

the grip on your neck loosens, his hand moving to grasp your chin and force your head up to look at him. his jaw moves before his lips are pursing a little bead of spit poking out from the pink pout. you're quicker than him. no desire to wait for it to fully leave his mouth, you're leaning up and swiping your tongue over his lips, collecting the spit into your mouth.

yoongi laughs, fingers burying themselves in your hair to hold your face against his. nose smushed together and lips inches apart. “so greedy,” the words leave his mouth just before he's pressing them to yours. the kiss doesn't last long, no more than a peck before he's lowering you onto your knees with the hold he has in your hair.

no need to wait for instruction, you know what he wants. hands reaching out to undo the buckle of his belt and pull apart the button of his jeans. his large hand comes down to do the rest, fishing his hard cock from its confines.

you watch on greedily as his hand glides over his length. it's hypnotizing. engorged head peeking out from the hole his fist creates, thumb lifting to brush over the sensitive parts. his hips move slowly, much slower than he does with you. it's teasing, almost. he goes until you're growing impatient and precum is rolling over his knuckles.

“open.” mouth forming a perfect 'o' before the demand has fully left his lips. you're reaching out for him, but he's moving out of your reach. “no hands,” the tantalizing way he brushes his cock over your lips has you quickly locking your arms behind your back. yeah, right, not his. look how well you listen.

yoongi doesn't take his time with filling your mouth, pushing himself down your throat before leaning back and then shoving his way back in. he does that a few times as you struggle to move your tongue along the underside of him. with a firm grip in your hair, he fucks himself into your mouth. setting a pace that has his eyes feeling heavy.

he can't believe how cute you look, mouth wide open, cheeks flushed, and his cock down your throat. if he pushes far enough he could make your eyes water. you had spent so long in the mirror gluing those ridiculous lashes on, it would be rude to fuck it up. he hesitates, but is quickly reminded of the fact that you're kinda a bitch... so he's pushing down further.

your throat is tightening around him in the way you know he likes and it nearly knocks him off his feet. you're looking up at him with this cocky look in your teary eyes, so it only makes sense that he wipes that look off your face. he pulls back without little to no warning, quick to lift your body from the floor and tossing you onto the bed.

you can't help but laugh at the annoyed look on his face as he makes his way over to you, legs spread and arms reaching out to him. he settles into them as if there's some magnetic pull, cock instantly resting between your damp folds. “i can feel how wet you are... who got you like this, baby?”

shoulders lifting in a shrug as you force the smile from spreading onto your lips. “you're such a little shit,” he says through a laugh, hand reaching between your bodies to properly align his cock with your entrance. it takes one swift movement of his hips to have him buried deep inside of you, pulling a loud screech from your lips.

he moves with enough force that has your body inching up the bed. tugging you down when you get too far only to have to do it again. yoongi knows exactly what to do to push you over the edge, cock filling you so nicely as he sucks hickeys into your neck. one large hand grips your hips, moving your body along with him.

and then all at once, he's deciding that he wants you kneeled down in front of him. and instead of asking you to move, he's flipping you over. now you've never told yoongi about your slight strength kink, but you're sure it's obvious with how you flutter at the way he uses his against you.

his hips snap into your at a bruising pace, the sound of skin slapping and your needy cries filling the room. he builds you up, fingers between your legs and toying with your clit only to knock you down, easing his pace into a slow grind. it drives you nuts and you're seconds from begging him to let you cum when it's dawning on you what he wants to hear.

as if. deciding to take matters into your own hands, you're reaching down, fingers instantly finding your clit. the gasp you let out gives you away much sooner than you intended and he's quickly swatting your hand away. “what did i say about touching my stuff?” quick to flip you onto your back, you're met with his unimpressed scowl.

cheeks flushed and a layer of sweat forming at his hairline... on his brow, he's barely holding on. “fuck, make me cum.” walls tightening around his length as you reach down to wrap your arms around his waist.

the words you say barely register as he takes in the way you look. hair knotted and laying wild around your face. mascara smudged beneath your eyes, your lips are red and swollen from the way you've been biting them, eyelash stuck to your flushed cheek. you're so pretty. his pretty girlfriend.

he nearly knocks the wind out of you with the harsh thrust of his hips. stuffing himself deep inside of you before pulling away and then attempting to go deeper. you can barely focus enough to match his rhythm, mouth hanging open as you pant. and then any reserve you have his shattering when his knuckles meet your clit. pinching and rolling it between the two digits.

your head tilts back, body arching off of the bed as a loud squeal falls from your lips. “yoongi, fuck! oh my god...” and then you're babbling. nonsense sentences falling from your lips all of them being different variations on being his. he takes the confession in stride, angling his hips to reach parts of you that he knows will have you falling apart.

and he's right. the orgasm he has been teasing for the past half hour comes crashing through. all you can do is lie there and take it, desperately trying to get closer to him as panted chants of 'all yours' fall from your lips. it does wonders for his ego and the release he's been holding back.

it's at the final squeeze of your pussy he's letting himself finally let go. hurriedly pulling out to spill his seed onto your stomach. you're barely able to keep your eyes open, moaning at the new warmth on your skin. yoongi laughs at the sleepy way your arm moves, fingers swiping up as much cum as they can before you're pushing them into your mouth.

his lips follow suit, lips pressed to yours just as your fingers are slipping out. he can taste himself on your tongue, but he doesn't care. too in love with the lazy way you kiss him to care, sticky fingers tangled in his hair. “you're all mine too,” you're mumbling, just in case he forgot.

that has a large grin growing on his features. “all yours,” nose nudging against yours as he leans in for another kiss. much sweeter than the ones before, gentler. it gives away how in love with you he is.

it's more than obvious to you. “you're so in love with me,” you're saying through a yawn, lips falling for his and head finding his chest. you're the least bit concerned with getting up and cleaning off and he's not going to be the one to make the suggestion. instead, he pulls you closer, arms wrapped around your shoulders.

you don't wait to hear him agree, already know the answer. he's made it clear time and time again, no matter how often you fight. “don't worry, i love you too,” words barely audible with your face buried in his chest, eyes shut. it's not long before you're both falling asleep.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 6 - zuko x fem!reader

The thing about forever is that it's a fucking lie

part 5 | masterlist | part 7

a/n: you all know whats coming lmao i got nothing to say for myself

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): pakku's usual sexism, typical siege of the north stuff, mostly angst but a lil bit of fluff in there

chapter title comes from forever is a lie by bea miller!

“I can’t believe that your tribe doesn’t teach waterbending to women!” Katara fumed, the snow beneath her feet packed tightly from her continuous pacing. “I mean, how can they even do that? Master Pakku’s all about ‘his culture and his teachings’ but his teachings are completely sexist!”

Y/N just nodded along as she listened to Katara — Master Pakku had refused to teach Katara, and after a disappointing healing lesson she had found Y/N to rant. “Yep. It’s unfair, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

Katara frowned and stopped in her tracks. “Don’t you want to learn how to fight too? I love being able to heal and help people, don’t get me wrong, but healing isn’t all I want to do.”

A shaky sigh fell from her lips and she shrugged, adjusting her position on the platform of ice she had made to sit on. “Well… yeah, I guess. I know a couple of martial moves, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know more. But Katara, I—”

Y/N was silent for a moment as flashes of the past played behind her eyelids. “I’m not like you. I’m not the kind of person to challenge the rules. Not anymore.”

Katara shook her head, already back to her pacing. “I think you’re selling yourself short. I saw your healing during your class — you’re really talented, Y/N, and I know that skill will transfer over to fighting.”

“Thank you, but— but it doesn’t matter how good we are. Master Pakku is just as stubborn as he is talented, and I think he’d rather die than be a decent person. It’s a shame though. I’d really like to see someone knock some sense into him.”

“Yeah…” Katara sighed. “Hopefully Aang is having a better time than I am.” She looked up at the sky then fixed Y/N with a wry smile. “Speaking of Aang, I should probably get back to him and my brother. Sorry for talking your ear off the whole night.”

Y/N waved her hand around nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. You have my permission to rant to me any time you want while you’re here.”

Katara grinned and offered her hand, which Y/N took with a small smile as she got up from her ice platform. With a slight movement of her hand she bent it back into the ground, and the two girls began their walk back to the city. “I just wish I knew how to get Pakku to let up.”

“You’ll think of something,” Y/N reassured.

-

Katara did indeed think of something. Y/N’s wish of Pakku getting some sense knocked into him was granted when Katara challenged him to a fight, which was quite possibly the best thing that Y/N had ever witnessed. Though she ultimately lost, he still decided to take her on as a student — and in a move that Y/N would forever be grateful for, Katara had gotten Pakku to take her on as well. Katara made history that day, and she felt a shining sense of admiration for the girl for shaking things up.

And now, her days consisted of early mornings spent training, afternoons in classes, and nights doing homework, as well as fitting in time to hang out with Yue — it was a miracle she had any free time at all.

Lately though, it seemed like all Yue could talk about was Sokka. She liked him just as much as he liked her, but Yue was good — no matter how much she cared for someone, her tribe would always come first.

(“Did I hear that you and Sokka have a date later tonight?” she teased. “Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” Yue was silent at her attempt at humor and Y/N frowned. “Yue, are you okay?”

Silence lingered in the air for so long that Y/N almost thought she didn’t hear her, but finally the princess spoke as she pulled down the collar of her jacket to reveal an engagement necklace. Y/N gasped.

“It’s from Hahn,” she said quietly. “He proposed an hour ago, and I accepted.”

“You what?” Y/N cried, prompting a slight grimace from Yue. “Hahn— you can’t stand him!”

“Y/N, please,” Yue sighed. “He’s not that bad — he’s handsome, I guess. And he’s the son of a noble, and he’ll be really good for the tribe.”

“Yue, you’re the one who has to deal with him. He proposed to you, not the tribe — Spirits, half the boys in this tribe like you, why him?”

“It’s best for the tribe,” she repeated, her words an attempt to convince Y/N as much as herself.

“But what’s best for you?” Y/N countered.

Yue hadn’t answered, and had made up some half-baked excuse that she had to be somewhere. She had watched her go sadly, hoping that she would figure something out with Sokka.)

And it’s not like she wasn’t happy that her friend had found someone, it was just…

Y/N was upset that someone wasn’t her. And she didn’t know how to deal with that revelation.

But one morning, while making idle conversation with Katara as their lesson came to an end, a matter much more pressing came to hand.

Black snow. Soot raining down from the sky, tarnishing everything it touched.

A feeling all too familiar brewed in her chest as she met her friend’s eyes, and one thing was clear.

The Fire Nation was coming.

-

The air was even more frigid than usual with the knowledge of an imminent invasion, and Y/N had parted ways with her friends once they reached the town hall to be with her grandparents. The tension in the air was thick as Chief Arnook stepped up to address the people.

“The day we have feared for so long has arrived — the Fire Nation is on our doorstep. It is with great sadness I call my family here before me, knowing well that some of these faces are about to vanish from our tribe, but they will never vanish from our hearts. Now, as we approach the battle for our existence, I call upon the great spirits. Spirit of the Ocean! Spirit of the Moon! Be with us! I'm going to need volunteers for a dangerous mission.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sokka stood up. “Count me in.”

Her eyes widened as she met Katara’s from across the room, and she looked equally surprised. “Sokka…”

“Be warned: many of you will not return.” Several other men stood up after Sokka, including her grandfather. Despite his age he was a skilled fighter, but that was no comfort to Y/N. She reached up for his hand and shook her head almost desperately, but he smiled sadly and squeezed her hand, a sentiment to express words unsaid. “Come forward to receive my mark, if you accept the task.”

As he walked forward to join the line, she found the only solace she could in her grandmother’s open arms, burying her face in the fur of her jacket. “He will be okay,” she soothed. “He’s just as strong as he is brave. You have to have faith.”

She hoped that her grandmother was right. She couldn’t handle another loss.

Once all the men had received their marks, they left to confer about the battle plan. Y/N found her way up to the stage where a tearful Yue sat. It pained Y/N to see her in such a way, and when she sat down and offered her hand the princess immediately took it.

“I saw that your grandfather volunteered,” she said after a beat of silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For Sokka.” Y/N adjusted her position so their shoulders were touching, and she sighed heavily. “I can’t stop thinking about my village. My father.” She met Yue’s eyes, her own beginning to tear up.

“What if it happens again?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t— I can’t do it again.”

Yue let go of her hand to wrap the girl in a hug, the warmth of the embrace managing to chip away at some of their hopelessness. “You won’t have to do it again,” she stated, the reassurance seeming like the truth when coming from her. “You’re not alone this time.”

She finally pulled away from the hug as she wiped the tears off her face, and Y/N nodded. Yue somehow always knew exactly what to say. “What would I do without you?” she asked, her voice slightly watery.

“You’re never going to know,” the princess smiled. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” That got a laugh out of Y/N and the two of them stood up as Yue gestured outside with her head. “I think I saw Aang and my father out there. It’ll help to talk with them — I think you need some fresh air anyways.”

Y/N nodded and the two girls walked out hand in hand, a small reprieve from carrying the weight of the world.

-

Things were so much worse than she had been anticipating.

After a short talk outside the hall with Katara, Aang, and the Chief, Yue had been transported somewhere safer as Y/N steeled herself for the front lines. After all, as a student of Master Pakku, she could fight damn well — it was just a matter of putting it into action.

But a line of warriors and children alike were no match for the strength of the Fire Nation from afar, and the first few fireballs had done their job at disrupting both the fighters and the wall — Seeing her home get destroyed hurt nearly as much as constantly getting thrown around.

After Aang had taken off on Appa and Chief Arnook took a section of his soldiers off for a different plan, the work on the ground began. The fleet of ships seemed endless , and the same went for their artillery — the fight went long into the day as Y/N worked with various other waterbenders to stop fireballs and repair broken parts of the city’s infrastructure, but just as the full moon began to show, the attacks stopped coming. Limbs heavy with exhaustion from their work in the field, Y/N and Katara met up with the princess back at the balcony of the palace.

“They’ve stopped firing,” Yue noted as they all gazed off into the distance.

“Thank the spirits,” Y/N muttered as she worked out a knot in her shoulder. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve kept going.”

Just then, Appa came into view and a grin spread across Katara’s face. “Aang!”

He landed below them and the three girls hurried down to meet him. Aang landed on the ground, exhaustion clear in every part of him. “I can’t do it,” he muttered as he placed his head in his hands. “I can’t do it.”

“What happened?” Katara asked as she ran up to him, Yue and Y/N close behind.

“I must’ve taken out a dozen Fire Navy ships, but there’s just too many of them!” His large grey eyes were full of hopelessness, and Y/N’s heart ached for the boy. “I can’t fight them all.”

“But— you have to!” Yue pleaded. “You’re the Avatar.”

“I’m just one kid,” Aang countered wearily. He buried his face in his arms and Katara kneeled next to him in an attempt to comfort him. Y/N could almost forget about the pain in her body at that moment, feeling an odd responsibility to this boy as she looked down at him.

“Aang,” she muttered, following Katara’s example and kneeling next to him. “You’ve already done so much for us. Just by being here, you’ve inspired hundreds of people — you’re a beacon of hope all on your own! We don’t expect you to take out this whole navy by yourself. As long as you’re here, fighting with us? You’re helping us more than you know.”

He managed a slight smile at that and he took her outstretched hand, getting pulled back to his feet with her help.

“We’ll have a better view from up there,” Katara noted, pointing back up to the balcony. “You can help us keep watch, Aang — in case they start attacking again.”

He nodded and the four of them began the walk, the Avatar in slightly better spirits.

“The legends say the moon was the first waterbender,” Yue said once they had reached the balcony, all of them gazing at the sky. “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

“I’ve always noticed my waterbending is stronger at night,” Katara mused, causing Y/N to hum in agreement.

“Our strength from the spirit of the moon, our life from the spirit of the ocean,” she said. “They work together to keep balance.

Aang’s expression brightened at her words as he popped up from the ground. “The spirits! Maybe I can find them and get their help!”

“How can you do that?” Y/N questioned.

“The Avatar is the bridge between our world and the Spirit World,” Katara explained excitedly. “Aang can talk to them!”

“Maybe they’ll give you the wisdom to win this battle!” Yue exclaimed.

“Or maybe they'll unleash a crazy amazing spirit attack on the Fire Nation!” At that, all three girls met him with strange looks. Aang coughed and straightened his posture. “Or wisdom. That's good, too.”

“The only problem is, last time you got to the Spirit World by accident,” Katara said with a frown. “How are you going to get there this time?”

Yue’s eyes lit up and she looked at them with a smile. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

-

A few minutes later, they were standing in the Spirit Oasis, the most spiritual place in all of the North. Yue, Y/N, and Katara all shed their coats as Aang walked around, marvelling at the beauty.

“I can feel… something,” Aang said as he sat down, getting into a meditating position. “It’s so tranquil.”

Soon enough, after a few moments of silence, Aang’s eyes as well as the arrow on his head began to glow.

“Is he okay?” Yue gasped.

“He’s crossing into the Spirit World,” Katara reassured. “He’ll be fine as long as we don’t move his body. That’s his way back to the physical world.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Y/N whispered, astonishment etched into her face. For as much as she had been taught about the ocean spirits, she wasn’t well-versed in the Spirit World as a whole — she was thoroughly fascinated by every part of this.

“Maybe we should get some help,” Yue suggested, still on edge as she took a few steps away from the gate.

“No, he’s my friend. I’m perfectly capable of protecting him. Besides, I already have some help here.” She smiled at Y/N, a sentiment that she returned happily.

A deep voice, almost mocking, broke the silence as it echoed throughout the oasis. “Well, aren’t you a big girl now? Even got yourself a little student.”

The three girls all whipped around to find the source of the voice, and Katara’s whole body stiffened. “No…”

“Yes. Hand him over and I don’t have to hurt you.”

Y/N immediately eased into a bending stance along with Katara as the princess fled to get help, but her confidence faltered when she took the time to focus on their assailant.

She almost didn’t recognize him — it had been nearly four years since she had last set eyes upon the boy, but it was as if he had become a completely different person. His head was shaved completely save for a ponytail, and blues and reds marked his skin in various cuts and bruises. His eyes held an anger she had never seen before, an expression only heightened with the addition of a large red scar across his left eye.

“Zuko?” she breathed, her chest tightening up beneath the weight of the revelation. Katara stared at her in bewilderment — she had no idea that Y/N knew the prince that had chased them halfway across the world, but Katara supposed that she had no reason to ever suspect she did.

His eyes flashed with recognition as they ran over her, and it seemed as if he had a similar epiphany as he staggered backwards. “I… I thought you were dead.”

“You’re with them,” she muttered, blood turning to ice. “Your nation is invading, and you’re helping them— you’re after the Avatar? What are you doing, Zuko?!”

The momentary surprise was replaced by steely determination as he shifted his weight forward and kicked up his leg, sending a blast of fire that she barely managed to dodge. “You know nothing!”

Y/N fell back into position next to Katara, but the newfound knowledge was like a fog over her mind. “Whoever he was when you knew him, that’s not him anymore!” Katara yelled as she bent water out of the pond and blocked his following attacks. “He won’t hesitate to hurt you, so you can’t either!”

“O-okay!” she stammered. This was the moment she had been waiting for, wasn’t it? After training with both Katara and Pakku, her martial skill had increased tenfold, and she was desperate to try it out — she only wished her first opponent didn’t have to be him. But another fire blast snapped her out of her paralysis, and she jumped into action.

The two girls worked impossibly well together, one stepping forward when the other fell back, the bending between them nearly seamless. Any fire that the prince sent their way was quickly extinguished, and with two against one on home turf, Y/N and Katara were able to hold him off with relative ease.

Y/N bent another jet of water up from the oasis and shot it at Zuko, the force of which knocked him several feet back. Katara took the opening and froze his feet to the ground, then began to move her arms about as she formed a ball of water around him — one more movement and it was frozen solid.

“You little peasant,” he growled. “You’ve found a master, haven’t you?”

The orb of ice began to glow, the air around them becoming hotter and hotter until it melted around him. Blasts of fire were flying at them as soon as Zuko hit the ground, and they were forced to retreat back towards the oasis as they grew more intense.

Y/N drew up a shield of water, extinguishing the flames on impact. Zuko dodged around them, his fingers inches away from Aang’s collar. Y/N propelled the water already at her fingertips towards Zuko with a grunt of effort, which sent him flying into the shallows on the other side of the oasis. She conjured up a large wave and sent it towards the prince, sending him up the side of the wall and trapping him once Katara froze it.

She breathed a sigh of relief and let her arms fall, a part of her wondering how they were still connected after the tediousness of the earlier battle. But this, one on one in a fight with real stakes? It was as exhilarating as it was nerve wracking, and she had never been so thankful that Katara had gotten her in with Master Pakku. Y/N felt intensely guilty over the pain she had inflicted on Zuko, but she tried her best to push it out of her mind — like Katara said, he would’ve done worse if she hadn’t fought back.

“You fought well,” Katara smiled. “I told you that you were talented.”

She chuckled and shrugged, cheeks heating up slightly at the praise. “It’s not exactly my first fight, just… the most intense.” It reminded her of the early mornings and late nights spent sparring with Zuko, a memory that only twisted the dagger in her heart even more.

The two girls smiled at each other as they began to walk back over to Aang — it seemed the boy was undisturbed by the fight by virtue of his glowing tattoos and closed eyes — when Y/N found herself squinting from the rays of light filtering in.

“Huh,” she mumbled. “The sun’s out. The sun’s out— Katara!”

Y/N turned to find the prince free from the ice, and the pair barely had time to draw water from the pond to shield themselves from the impending flames. But it was too little too late, and the power of the blast sent them back several feet. They slammed into either side of the gate, the force of it immediately knocking Katara out.

Y/N gasped in pain as she tried to push herself up, but the fight combined with the impact of her landing had taken a toll on her and she collapsed once more against the gate. When the smoke from the fire cleared, Zuko was there with Aang’s collar in his grasp.

“You rise with the moon,” he muttered, his face tinged with the slightest bit of guilt as he met her eyes. “I rise with the sun.”

The last thing she saw before her consciousness faded out was the boy she loved escaping with the Avatar.

-

why did i make yue and y/n like this when i KNOW what i have to write next omg i hate myself

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atla: @marianne1806

[tatesweaterweather]

Fem!Reader making a joke about ‘boring’ sex with James & he gets angry 😳😳

(⚠️ warnings!: medium level bdsm <3)

It had all started one evening when you were with James that everything had been unravelled. You were both in his office, him finalizing new documents for the hotel while you were reading one of the many books Liz had lent you.

Sighing, you put your book down.

“What is troubling you so, my darling?” James had asked, not bothering to look up from his work.

“I’m bored.” You replied.

“I wish I could entertain you, my love. But, as you can see I am very busy.” He motioned to his papers.

“Can you not just take a break for like a half hour? We could do whatever you want within that time. We can even have sex if you wanted to!” You had asked sweetly, not noticing how desperate you really sounded.

“Darling you know I would love to, but I simply cannot afford to just drop everything right now. I promise, I will tend to you later.” He replied shortly.

“Fine, I didn’t want to have boring sex with you anyways.” You mumbled the last part of your sentence, picking up your book again. Not knowing if he heard that correctly, James had whipped around in his chair.

“What did you just say to me?” He questioned.

“I said I don’t want to have boring sex with you anyways.” You repeated, not looking up to see his shocked and angry expression. Without hesitating, he had gotten up from his seat, walked over to you and ripped the book straight from your hands before chucking it aside.

“Hey! I was reading that!” You complained. When you had lifted your head to see his face, your stomach dropped and your throat went dry. Nervously and out of instinct, you gulped.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say such things, darling.” He said as he lifted his hands to gently wrap around your throat.

“Or what?” You mocked shakily. With that, he pushed you by the throat down onto the couch. He leaned down to spread your legs, placing his knee in between them as he whispered in your ear.

“Darling, I’m going to say it once and I’m not going to say it again so you best listen to me now. You’re going to go back to our room, strip down to your underwear and wait for me. If you are not done by the time I get there, you’re going to wish you were dead somewhere that is not within these walls.” He warned, and you did not hesitate to comply. You waited for him to lift his knee before rushing to your shared bedroom.

Not knowing how long he was going to take, you hurriedly stripped out of what you were wearing down to your matching underwear set. It was nothing too fancy, but you saw no point in changing seeing as James would arrive at any moment and there was no telling what he would do if you didn’t obey what he had asked.

After about three minutes of waiting, James walked in. You stood nervously, waiting for his next orders.

“Get on the bed and lay on your back.” He demanded in a low tone, which meant he was not going to repeat it again. You nervously walked over to the bed and laid on your back as commanded. He slowly walked over to you and held out his hands to show you something that made you gulp in anticipation.

A rope and a blindfold.

It was clear James could see the nervous look on your face, and his facial expressions softened for just a few seconds.

“Are you okay with this, darling?” He asked. You nodded enthusiastically and his dominance kicked in again.

“Lift your arms up.” He commanded. You obeyed, lifting your arms up to the headboard where he tied them together so you couldn’t move them no matter how hard you tried. Then, exchanging looks one last time that said you were both comfortable with this, he placed the blindfold around your head. You automatically tensed up seeing as this was your first time being blindfolded during sex.

James noticed this and softly caressed your arms before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pocket knife. You whimpered softly at the lack of touch before flinching at the sound of his knife opening.

“Shhhh, it’s okay darling.” He reassured you, kissing your lips gently before going back to what he was doing. He had kneeled over top of you, fully clothed, and began dragging the pocket knife up your chest to cut your bra clean off. Setting his knife aside, he reached down and swiftly lifted your bra to toss it aside before moving down to your underwear. He repeated the same process, cutting your underwear and tossing it aside.

You moaned softly at the humiliation of it all. Him being fully clothed while you’re a whimpering mess below him. Naked, blindfolded, and tied up. You were completely vulnerable at his expense and you both knew it.

You could feel James crawling off of you to get off the bed, and you nearly whimpered at the thought of him leaving. But just as you were about to let out a noise, he returned.

“Now surely you don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little remarks earlier, right?” He taunted, lifting his hands to caress your soft skin.

He then readjusted his position on the bed so he was in between your legs. You gasped loudly as you felt him slap your already dripping cunt. You then felt him lick a stripe up your clit and you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan. You went to tangle your fingers in his hair, but that only made the rope burn your skin even more than it already was.

He slowly dipped his tongue in and out of you, and shortly after, he slipped a finger in. You whimpered and cried out at the feeling. As his fingers curled inside of you, you arched your back slightly and sobbed.

“James, I’m gonna cum.” You moaned. With that, he removed all contact.

“No, no, no. Please James, please let me cum.” You pleaded, but it was no use. You could hear him get up again, but this time you could hear the sound of clothes getting tossed aside. He walked over to the bed again, and began to untie the ropes.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He demanded. You rushed to obey him, nearly falling over in the process. “Now remember darling, if you even think of misbehaving again, I will not hesitate to tie your hands again. Got it?”

You nodded as you waited patiently in position, your breath feeling uneven as you shake in anticipation. Although you couldn’t see him, you could hear him crawling on the bed behind you. What you didn’t know though, was that he had his belt in his hands instead of tossing it aside earlier. Just as your breath was starting to even out again, he whipped your cheek which caused you to gasp loudly.

“Now my darling dearest, tell me what you did to deserve this.” He asked in a dominate tone that made your legs feel weak.

“I- I wasn’t respectful of you. I mocked you and challenged you.” You trembled.

“That’s right, my love. Now, can you tell me what happens to girls who act out and are disrespectful?” He asked, even though he seemed to already know the answer.

“They deserve to be punished.” You whimpered.

“That’s right. Now, I want you to count all 10 of your punishments. If you suddenly stop or miss a number, we are going to start all over again.” He said assertively.

“Yes, sir.” You agreed, which made him groan softly at the choice of nickname.

After what felt like forever, you had finally gotten to 10 whips. By the time you both were finished, James’ fingertips were white from the grip on his belt and you were choking on your own sobs.

“You did so good, my darling. I’m so proud of you. You deserve a reward. Do you want a reward, my love?” He praised. The only thing you could do was nod as you tried to calm down from the choking sensation.

He then flipped you over so you were laying on your back, and he untied the blindfold. You immediately hissed at the harsh lighting, and James leaned down to kiss you. You melted into the kiss, missing his soft lips after the harsh assault on your bottom. He then pulled away to whisper softly in your ear.

“Are you ready for me, my love?” He asked, and you nodded.

After lining up his tip with your wet entrance, he pushes in slowly to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable in any way. You both moan softly, the feeling of being this close together never really sinking in. He begins to thrust at a fast, even pace after he knows you’re okay. After a few moments of him fucking into you harshly, you start to feel that familiar feeling in your tummy.

“James, can I please cum now?” You pleaded.

“Yes my love, you can cum now. Cum for me.” He says as he fastens his pace even more, if that’s possible. As soon as he feels you beginning to tighten around him, he starts rubbing your clit which makes you scream out in pleasure.

You slowly begin to let go and let the waves of immense pleasure wash over you. You feel your legs beginning to go limp as you try and clutch onto James for dear life. He slowly cums inside of you, knowing it’s okay because you two have discussed it and done it plenty of times before.

He gently lays you both down beside him as you both begin to come down from your highs.

“Darling? Are you alright?” He asks lovingly.

“Yes James, I’m okay. I’m just feeling a bit tired now is all.” You reply sleepily.

“Well my love, as much as I’d love to let you sleep, we have to get you cleaned up so you won’t feel unpleasant in any way when you awake. Come now my dear.” He says as he picks you up bridal style, making you giggle.

[lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs]

He will set us free.

Another relatively long piece for one of my AUs. Again with the gays, but! This time there's more angst than before! Yay! :D

A lil pic to set up the mood~

-He will set us free, Norman!

Sammy was having a hard time. Probably the hardest of all creatures in this studio.

It was his nature to try to help everyone he could. He tried to bring everyone together. To give hope. About a couple of years after his imprisonment in the studio, he created the Ink Demon Cult. Not for himself, but for the unfortunate Lost Ones. They would lose their minds and die, emitting piercing death cries that others would pick up on. On days like this, the composer's head was ready to explode.

But with the advent of the cult, they...stopped dying. They had something to hold on to day in and day out. They had faith in a bright future. They had hope.

Sammy didn't believe in cult ideas, oh no. He was only playing the part of the prophet in this play for the inky children.

Only during the play were cries of agony replaced by jubilation and cries of hope and happiness.

And now the eulogies to the Demon were constantly in his head.

Strange thing about the human brain.

Many times repeating an obvious lie, sooner or later it will believe it, make it an absolute and unshakable truth.

This is exactly what happened to the composer.

Being surrounded by voices for decades, he lost the line between them and himself. He could no longer tell what thoughts and feelings belonged to him. He was slowly drowning in the cacophony, in that ocean of sounds, becoming a grain of sand at the very bottom.

He became just like the villagers.

Scared. Weak.

Lost.

It didn't happen in a day, or even a week. Gradually, slowly but surely, Sammy was losing his mind, believing more and more in his own lies.

Norman had been playing a show on him the whole time. It was only in private, when the curtain of lies closed and the Lost Ones went to their hiding places, that only he could see the real Sammy. A kind and strong musician who was just trying for the greater good. And that made Norman feel special.

He involuntarily remembered the old days when they were humans. Yes, time had eroded them, but Norman still recognized the musician as the man he had once grown attached to. No matter how he had changed in appearance, Norman knew it was his musician.

At least, that's what he thought.

Time passed. Sammy spent more and more time with his "people" and less and less time with the projectionist. He spent more and more time holding ceremonies. More and more often he prayed. And if before he'd only done it with the Lost Ones, now... he began to do it when he was alone. More and more demon cutouts were showing up in the halls. More and more candles were placed on homemade altars. And even...

Human corpses appeared, with deep and gross wounds on them. Like an axe.

The axe Sammy carried with him all the time for protection.

It was...disturbing.

But then they finally met. And Norman...couldn't know who was standing in front of him.

The creature looked like Sammy. It had his voice.

- The demon made us like this, which means it can make us human! Do you understand, Norman?

The stranger had been talking about his cult for about half an hour. He spoke softly, but with excitement and a gasp. His movements were now nervous and jerky, switching to fluid and somewhat unnatural. Occasionally his voice would turn into a whisper and a couple of husky laughs would break into his speech.

- Give him enough victims, and he'll free us from this... prison.

Norman wasn't really listening. He didn't understand why Sammy was preaching at all right now. Why was he acting strange? Was he...rehearsing?

While the monster wondered, the musician continued to rant. Then something unexpected happened.

Sammy reached for Norman's head with his hand. Gently, but rather firmly, he grabbed him by the bottom of the projector, his "chin," pulled him closer to him, and spoke more softly.

-He will set you free, too, Norman.

And now he understood. This was not a rehearsal. This was another performance-

Was it a performance?

Norman would have been embarrassed if Sammy had done that.

But it wasn't Sammy.

Or rather, it wasn't his Sammy.

It wasn't a musician trying to do good for others. Before him was a prophet who had gone mad and believed that the monster who had imprisoned them would be his saviour.

It was...a stranger.

Norman jerked back, catching the prophet off guard, and struck out. Sammy instantly flew off into the wall with a surprised short shriek and fell on the floor. Oh, guess the projectionist miscalculated and accidentally knocked him out.

Norman was already thinking of just walking away, but...he couldn't leave the prophet in such a vulnerable position. But he didn't want to stay with a stranger either.

After thinking for a while, the projectionist took the prophet by the hand and dragged him (he didn't deserve a ride in his arms) to the Miracle Station, hiding his body there. Neither demon nor monsters pry into these little booths. The prophet would be safe.

Closing the door, Norman hesitated for a moment, running his hand sadly over the boards.

A beam of light with muffled footsteps slowly disappeared into the depths of the studio.

Smoothly and quietly.

Deeper and deeper.

Into darkness.

Into loneliness.

[eremiie]

Hello there I really like your writing and I was maybe wondering I can get some angst of a cheating eren who break his s/o heart

yes you can!! i shed a few tears writing this bc i was listening to sad music & thinking, but i hope you enjoy, i am not the best at writing angst😪!

cheers to you - eren x reader

in which eren breaks your heart and you have no choice but to move on.

tw; crying, heartbreak ig idk

2.5k words | angst | modern au

"okay."

you pushed at sasha's phone, you didn't want to see anymore. you were trying to suppress your tears, refusing to cry in front of your two friends.

sasha took one more look at the photos before swiping out of her camera roll, looking back up at you with a frown, hitch likewise. "_____, are you okay?"

and you hated when people asked you that. you thought you were doing fine, you thought you could keep everything down but you simply thought wrong. you croaked out the smallest sound, but before you could even get a word out the tears began to spill, your eyes becoming bleary with the suffocating liquid and the suffocating feeling surrounding your heart. you felt so dumb.

hitch rushed to your side pulling you into a hug until your head fell against her shoulder, body going limp besides the soft heaves that would leave your shuddering body. the pictures of eren were embedded in your head, replaying in your mind, constantly on repeat and you wished to think of anything else that wasn't clawing at your heart like the photos lingering in your subconscious. it was all you could see, almost like a photo album; eren's hands sat on some random girls waist while she straddled him, his jaw slacked open as she ground against him, whoever taking the photo catching her mid grind. his eyes were half lidded if you remembered correctly, reddening, he must've been high.

you couldn't tell if that fact alone hurt you less or more.

your mind swiped, another photo with the same blond haired girl, this time her hands cupping his face and his hands gripping her ass while they engaged in a kiss that you wished was chaste. you were repulsed that your lips had met his in almost the same manner before he left for that party the same night. more sobs left your poor quivering lips, hitch's grip around you tightening as she tried to shush your sobs and cries.

sasha's hands ran over her face as she shook her head clear disappointment evident as she watched you and hitch.

"what did i do wrong?" you gasped for air finally pulling away from hitch, the only body part connecting with hers be your hands that she clasped so delicately as if, if she squeezed too tight you would break. "my heart hurts, it hurts, it hurts," you babbled as tears fell from the bottom of your chin and the bridge of your nose, your eyes were puffy and swollen. "this hurts so bad," you conveyed your emotions through words another gasp leaving your lips.

"you did nothing wrong," hitch reassured rubbing her thumbs against the surface of your hands. "he's just an idiot."

"it's gonna hurt, and that's okay," sasha scooted forward from her position on the floor laying her head in your lap and you knew she was right but god, you didn't want it to hurt. you wanted the pounding in your head to stop, the recurring thoughts to stop, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks to stop, i mean you wanted someone to tell you exactly where you messed up so you could go back and try again.

"do you want us to stay with you tonight?"

you looked down at the side of sasha's face, one of your hands letting go of hitch to comb through brunette hair, and the lazy bun in the back of her head seemed all too familiar already, the way a couple of flyaways framed the front of her face had you covering your mouth, repressing a gag with your palm, sasha whipping her head around to confront the source of the sound, worry on her face, but you squeezed your eyes shut, even the furrow in her brow reminding you all too much of the boy.

"______?" hitch's arms were back around you but you quickly pushed them off feeling the rising feeling of your breakfast you had not too long ago, rushing to the trash can in the corner of your dorm letting your remnants spill from your stomach. the feeling of throwing up felt so foreign to you, you couldn't even remember the last time you did it, and to some degree you wished your heart came up with it.

hitch's mouth parted in the slightest not even sure what to say but the anger behind her eyes was apparent. "baby, i'm so sorry." was all she could say in response while your body crouched beside the trash can, your hands slipping from the rim until they were palm first on the floor, slowing turning into fists.

"i wanna be alone for a couple hours." you managed to utter with a sniff.

"you sure?" sasha asked, standing up awkwardly with hitch reciprocating. you nodded your head and it felt like everything was going in snapshots, them walking to the door, the door opening and their bodies disappearing, your figure laying back in your bed and then the next snapshot didn't come, sleep had came so quick you didn't even have time to process it.

❈ ❈ ❈

your eyes fluttered slightly and you relished in the heat over you for a minute. your mind felt like a clean slate for the time being, as your eyes opened to the bed next to you, sasha's figure vacant from her bed. you remembered asking for some space before you left but you thought she'd had return by now. it was dark, but it couldn't have been too late as orange rays from the sun were attempting to shine through your curtains, making you assume that it was just around seven, the sun setting soon. but you craved the warmness that was around you a little more, pulling down to reach for your blanket, until your body froze.

the hand wrapped around your waist, much like in the photographs engraved in your brain twitched and that same sickness felt like it was resurfacing yet you dared to move, tears brimming again subconsciously.

"eren," you mumbled under your breath.

"hm?" oh, so he was awake.

your face scrunched up in agony at the sound of his voice, your eyebrows coming together, your eyes shutting and you biting your lip so hard the taste of blood collected on your tongue. "please," your breathing began to thicken again, you wanted to move his arm but your body was almost stuck in place. "move."

eren groaned against your back, nose nuzzling into the back of your neck and you mentally cringed. "get out," you said abruptly, body jolting at the sudden movement and you felt him still behind you. how did he even get in? and then you immediately regretted making an spare dorm key and giving it to him only a couple months into your relationship. "get out, get out." you finally regained some self control, your body slithering from under his until your arm touched the floor and you crawled away from your own bed. "go, what are you doing?" you lashed, his gingerly stare making you aware of the tears cascading down your face again.

eren stared back at you finally lifting his head up from the spare pillow that he always slept with when he spent nights with you, the pillow that stayed tucked away on your bed and the same pillow that you'd have to wash and get rid of that stupid recognizable cologne he wore, the same cologne that would linger on most of his clothing that you owned. "_____,"

"no, leave, please leave, i can't do this."

eren seemed genuinely confused, sitting up completely now and scooting forward until his legs dangled off the bed. "baby, what's-"

you winced at the nickname and clutched at your stomach, feeling the emptiness inside from the lack of food, yet you still felt the urge to dispel anything inside of it still. "please leave." you almost felt lightheaded, you felt as if you weren't being heard and you were sick.

the significant sound of the dorm keycard slot beeping until sasha's figure came back in, "_____, i left the key hear but luckily i had a keyca-" her voice slowly died down as she studied the scene of the dorm, your body on the floor away from your bed and eren's figure sat on the same bed, both pair of eyes now looking up at her."

"what the hell?" sasha stormed over to eren grabbing his arm in a feeble attempt to pull him off of your bed. although she wasn't strong enough eren did stand up, mainly because of your pleas for him to get out just earlier. "get out! she doesn't want you here, weirdo!" sasha exclaimed pointing towards the door clear anger flashing in her eyes. "and don't just come in here uninvited again!"

those green eyes that would unknowingly keep you up for nights after today kept that confused gaze on you as he walked around you and made you feel stupid and small. we're you overreacting? were those pictures just your imagination?

"_____..." eren mumbled before looking at your frame on the floor once more.

“get out!” sasha exclaimed.

you weren't sure if he was just that dense or he was hiding the fact that he knew exactly what he did. the door shut and you immediately began crying again, this time harder. wails of pain escaping your throat. your cries were loud and full of pain. you clutched at your shirt as if to grasp at your broken heart.

"oh my gosh." sasha dropped her keycard and bag onto your bed where she still stood and got on the floor with you pulling you as much into her lap as possible. you felt fragile in your hands, her gripping at the sweatshirt around your body. she listened to your cries, responding with "i knows," and "mhm," as if they were telling her a story, simply listening to the aching noises that were leaving you.

"sasha," you finally mustered the courage to speak a few words again, although they resembled your words from yesterday. "i'm hurting."

"i know, i know."

"i loved him." you blinked so you could see a little clearer, lifting your head to look at sasha, bringing your hands to either side of her head, your thumbs stroking her jaw. "i thought he loved me? why? why?"

sasha couldn't bare to look at your sad, damaged eyes and instead pulled you back against her chest. although your sobs died down she could feel the convulsing of your body and opted to hold you for as long as you needed.

“does he even know what he did? does he even know how much pain i’m in right now?”

sasha couldn’t even answer that question. by the looks of it he didn’t, maybe he was high? under the influence? but either way you didn’t have the courage to confront him about it.

instead you spent the next couple of weeks sulking, mending to your broken heart and staying out of eren’s way, no matter how many times he tried to communicate with you. it seemed as if word got to him on what he did, sasha getting connie to talk to him, and as angry as eren got there was no denying what he did, especially with photo evidence.

your phone blew up with his own pleas begging for forgiveness, begging for you to talk to him, to come back, to do something.

but you were fragile, and you knew that even being in his vicinity would tear you apart bit by bit. you didn’t want to weep in front of him, you didn’t want to be in front of him in the first place, nor did you want his pity.

did you want to get back with him? the question still pondered on your mind constantly but both sasha and hitch refused to let you, and they were perfectly fine with the situation going unresolved if it meant better for you.

"so?" hitch pointed the straw of her frappucino at you. "i really think you just need to try exploring your options, just living a little. you can go to the next party with sasha and i, i promise we won't mind."

“hitch i want her to go to a party too but i don’t know about her getting with anyone.” sasha swirled the stick inside her latte to mix it up before sucking the liquid off the end.

now it had been a few months since you had seen eren, a few months since you began to heal yourself slowly compared to those first couple weeks. you had to really thank hitch and sasha for being there most of the way for you, and you had to especially thank netflix and sleep for being two of your greatest distractions.

you never officially broke up with eren, sure you saw him in the hallways (and you were certain he saw you as well) you had a couple lectures with him where the two of you would sneak glances at each other; which kind of reminded you of when the two of you first began liking the other. he never made an effort to speak to you after the first couple weeks when he would text your phone constantly, as much as it seemed like he wanted to still.

"i don't know hitch. i haven't even got rid of his stuff yet. they're still sitting in that stupid box in the corner of me and sasha's dorm." sasha nodded in confirmation taking a bite of her biscuit.

"but i don't think that box should stop you from getting out the house again. you haven't really been anywhere besides maybe target with sasha. plus i miss seeing you!"

you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle. "you see me at least three times, especially when... you know, you came like everyday at first."

hitch shrugged her shoulders and then took another sip of her drink. "but do you think i can start seeing you more is the question? c'mon this is the first step towards a new life without that bastard."

you pondered on the thought before a small sigh escaped your lips, and you slowly nodded your head.

"really?" hitch exclaimed, her hands reaching across the table to grab yours. "you mean you won't mind coming to the party this saturday?"

you narrowed your eyes at hitch. "this was your plan wasn't it?"

"yes, yes it was. but there's no backing out now."

"yes, hitch, i'll come to the party this saturday." you decided that maybe this would help your healing heart in the least and you would try to push aside the boy that broke it for the couple hours just to spend time with your friends. but you couldn't help and wonder, "what if i bump into him at the party? or he tries to talk to me?"

sasha looked at hitch and hitch looked back before both turning their eyes to you. "we can be with you the whole time if that's the case."

"i wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

"babe, hanging out with you is one of the points of bringing you, ____." sasha smiled.

you internally twitched at the mention of the nickname ‘babe’ but neither one of your friends seemed to tell. you were getting better with reacting to things that reminded you of him, and you didn’t hysterically start crying at the slightest mention or object that related to him.

"we got you, okay?"

you frowned slightly but gave sasha a smile back and squeezed hitch's hand in the slightest. "yeah, okay."

this was the beginning of a new life for you, you wouldn’t spend your days sulking after him anymore. cheers to you and your first big step forward.

[sunshineandaisies]

Numbers (Part Five)

Numbers Masterlist

Summary: Soulmate!AU where everyone is born with numbers indicating their soulmates birth date tattooed on their wrist

Words: 849

Warnings: eh?

Note: So if you recognize this from like 4-5 years ago, it’s because this is a repost from my old account (caps-best-girl) that I’ve since deactivated. There are 7 parts to this in total that I’ll be editing and reposting throughout the week. (Also, I’m a hoe for soulmate AUs).

During the first three months without Bucky you felt completely lost. It was like a piece of you had been left in Wakanda, and without it you couldn’t function, could barely breath. Your body felt deprived of its favorite drug, and the withdrawal was slowly killing you.

Steve was always close, watching you with a worried eyes and pursed lips. He held you whenever you cried, whispered reassurances in your ear after you woke from a nightmare, gasping for air, and he listened when you voiced all of your thoughts, no matter how repetitive it had gotten. He was there for you, and maybe that’s what made things suddenly change.

At first, you couldn’t even bare to think about what the stolen glances and secret smiles truly meant. You were merely friends, both struggling with the loss of Bucky. It was natural that you would get closer during your mutual mourning.

You made excuse after excuse as to why being with Steve was so easy, but eventually, nearly a year and a half after Bucky had resumed his cryogenic sleep in Wakanda, nearly a year and a half of no progress, you stopped lying to yourself.

It was hesitant, your relationship. It started with lingering touches to the lower back or waist. Next came lips pressed to cheeks and foreheads, neither of you really noticing the changes that were occurring in your relationship until you finally kissed him. Or maybe he kissed you. It didn’t really matter to you. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of a weight being lifted off of your chest, finally allowing you to breath once again after you listened to Bucky’s advice.

‘Move on.’

And you did.

You had to remind yourself often that it wasn’t Steve’s birth date on your wrist, that the numbers belonged to his best friend. You knew in your heart that your heart would always truly belong to Bucky, but Steve eased the pain of his absence. You didn’t feel guilty about thinking this way because you knew that Steve felt the same. His heart would always truly belong to Peggy and never you.

It was the harsh reality of soulmates, knowing that once the person you were destined to be with was gone, so was a part of you. You could give and give to someone else, someone other than that person was your perfect match, but it would never be enough. No amount of wishing that the numbers on your wrist were different – July 4, 1918 – would change them, and Steve’s faded numbers would never reappear with your birth date no matter how many times you dreamed of it.

But you loved him. So you made it work.

Neither of you ever let Bucky and Peggy stray from your minds, and you would sit and listen to Steve talk about each of them for hours on end when neither of you wanted to get out of bed. You would lay with your head rested on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart, as his chest reverberated with every word spoken about the two people who meant the most to him aside from you.

“Do you think they’d be happy for us?” you asked, absentmindedly carding your fingers through his hair. “I just can’t help but think that Bucky…”

“He would understand,” Steve reassured. His hand soothingly rubbing circles onto the skin of your back. “He knew he couldn’t make you wait forever.”

“What do you think Peggy did?” you asked. Steve’s birth date had never faded from her wrist all those years, yet Peggy had found a man to give what was left of her heart to. The parallels between the situation you were in and the situation that she had been in were eerily similar. Even both of your soulmates had voluntarily gone into their cryogenic slumber – though Steve had thought he would die from his actions – to save the people they loved.

History had a funny way of repeating itself.

“She moved on. Just like you.” He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. “People do what they need to do to survive. We cope.”

You coped when you snuggled into Steve’s side at night. You coped when you kissed him in the morning. You coped when his arms would wrap around your waist while you cooked, pressing small kisses behind your ear and to the back of your neck.

But you didn’t cope when your wrist began to tingle, sensation growing with every passing day. You didn’t cope when your body began to buzz with familiarity. You didn’t cope when your skin began to warm with excitement. You didn’t cope when your heart began to ache for someone other than Steve.

But you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with the one person that had kept you sane and breathing for the last four years. You kept everything to yourself, walking on eggshells around him, until everything came crashing down around you.

Until Bucky Barnes showed up on your doorstep, smiling shyly up at you as he unknowingly ruined everything.