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lxstfathier · 9 months

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PLEASEEEE WRITE SOFTDOM!WILLIAM AFTON PUTTING BRATTY!READER IN HER PLACEEEE (daddy kink, oral, nd degradation if ur comfy) (≧∇≦）

Omg yesss, i love that kind of stuff, let’s gooo! <3

Attention

William Afton x Reader

Warnings: dd/lg, oral sex (m! receiving), degradation, implied age-gap, cockwarming.

A/N: i really loved writing this, its so kinky but cute, thanks for the request anon. also, english is not my first language, so i apologize for any errors, but i hope y’all like it! 💗

You shouldn’t have done that. You should have listened to him when he told you to quit that bratty attitude. You shouldn’t have been running around and messing with his stuff while he fixed some details on his springlock suit. You shouldn’t have rolled your eyes at him.

But now it’s too late.

William grabs you by the arm, digging his long fingers into your soft skin and shoving you aggressively into the nearest wall as a pained gasp escapes your lips.

“What’s going on inside that dumb brain of yours, huh? why are you suddenly acting like a fucking brat?” he asks with a stern tone in his voice, clearly fed up with your shit.

“I- I’m sorry, daddy” you apologize, looking up at him with big doe eyes, casually dropping that misbehavior.

“I don’t need your apologies. I asked you a question.”

You don’t know exactly what to answer. It’s not like you are usually a brat, but today you feel kinda… ignored. You are more than starved of attention and touch. The only thing you want is to spend time with William, kissing his stubbly jaw or sit on his lap, but he’s been working on that spring bonnie suit all damn day.

“I- uh- i don’t know, i just got bored” you murmur, too shy to express your own feelings. “And- and i need attention”.

“Yeah? does my little bunny need attention?” he says, almost mocking. “Then beg for it like the needy whore you are.”

And before you know it, William is forcing you to your knees in a way that will surely leave bruises for the next day. But you don’t care, not when he’s finally giving you some of his precious time.

“Please daddy” you plead in a high pitched voice, pouting your lips while running your hands over his thighs, noticing the bulge starting to grow on his crotch. “Play with me.”

“Stupid slut” William says through gritted teeth. “Can’t even go a day without being used like a fucking toy.”

Letting out a devilish smirk, he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants, just enough to reveal his cock, fully hard already. And you can’t help but lick your lips at the beautiful sight, feeling your pussy tingle with arousal.

Not wanting to waste a single second, you eagerly take his length in your small hands, pumping it a few times before leaning in to kiss the pink tip and run your tongue over the prominent veins, earning a deep grunt from the depths of his chest.

“Don’t tease me, bunny” William growls, forcefully grabbing a fistful of your hair on his right hand, guiding his big cock into your mouth.

You try your best to take him, wrapping your lips around it, but when he hits the back of your throat and starts thrusting, it’s impossible not to gag and drool.

Tears start streaming down your face, digging your nails in his pants while he slides in and out at a fast pace, fucking your throat as if you were a doll, not even caring if you choke. It’s a punishment after all, it isn’t meant to please you.

“Are you crying?” William mocks you again. “Come on, isn’t this what you wanted? huh? you were acting up all day just to make me riled up and now you don’t want it?. Aw, too bad, bunny, cause you’re gonna take it… i don’t care if you like it or not.”

You look up at him, searching for his -usually tender- blue eyes. But that ocean color is almost completely gone, covered by his dark pupils, dilated with lust and hunger, without a single trace of kindness or compassion.

William keeps pushing you down on his length, enjoying the warm slickness of your mouth, cursing under his breath. And it’s not long until you feel his muscles tense and his cock twitch, finally releasing all of his hot cum on your tongue, milking him dry, not wasting a single drop of his salty seed.

He thrusts sloppily a few times to ride out his orgasm, and then pulls out, with a nasty string of spit still connecting you both.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you all day, my little bunny” he says, returning to his lovely demeanor, caressing your cheek and cleaning the mess of saliva and cum running down your chin. “How about you come sit on my cock for a while and when i’m done then we can have some fun, hm?.”

You just nod, unable to talk much due to the rough throat fucking he just gave you, but really liking the idea. So William helps you get on your feet again, taking you with him, sitting on the chair in front of the desk and patting his lap as an invitation for you to sit on him.

The only piece of clothing you’re wearing is an oversized pink shirt, so it’s really easy for you to straddle his lap and sink down his half-hard cock, whimpering as he fills your soaked sensitive cunt.

“That’s it, good girl” William coos, groping your soft ass, more than happy to be buried inside your tight hole.

You smile, giving him a little peck on the lips, and then let him continue what he was doing.

William keeps fixing some loose screws on the ears of the spring bonnie suit, and you rest your head on his shoulder, tracing your fingers on the seams of his tie, soon falling asleep while smelling his masculine cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes.

#my first william fic yayyy!! <3 #william afton x reader #william afton smut #william afton fanfic #fnaf fanfic #five night at freddy’s fanfiction #fnaf smut

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thecreelhouse · 3 months

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and what if i said “on your knees” prompt with st…s…ste…. oh i can’t even say it……

loml hello!!!!!!!!! 🥹 hope u like this bestie<3

———

“O-okay, you’re— you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Shoving Steve against a filthy wall in some stranger’s house, you’re determined to make Steve think of something, anything else, other than being trapped in the Upside Down. “C’mon, Steve. I’m not fucking stupid. You’ve been staring at me non-stop lately. Any reason why?”

“Because you’re- you- well,” Steve is trying his hardest to be a gentleman. Or, whatever else is close to that at this point. After diving through the watergate, he’s shirtless and wrapped in bandages, and you’ve only got a mini-skirt on (Yeah, great fashion choice before doing anything related to this hell of a different dimension. Great job!), and somehow lost half your shirt in the process.

You’re not a believer in much, but you’re sure as hell this is fate, or something close, pressuring you to finally make Steve realize you like him just as much, if not more. With your hands holding his arms to his sides, you glance up at him with the biggest gaze, one that sets off the storm awaiting inside him.

It’s the same stare he’s dreamed of time and time again, staring up at him while you’re choking on his cock.

“We could be stuck here for a very long time, y’know.” You purr, running your hands up his sides, careful as your fingertips run over his bandages. “The others are at Nancy’s anyway. We got time to kill. I literally saw you palming yourself when we were walking down the street away from the group— dude, please tell me you’re aware you weren’t that sneaky. You know that, right?”

“I— I don’t want to be mean.” Is all he can bring himself to say, but you laugh, startling him.

“Steve? As much as I love when you’re a gentleman, I’d fuckin’ love to see the old you tell me what to do. C’mon, babe, I know it’s still in you.”

You’re both the worst and best thing to happen to Steve Harrington. You’ve been such a badass through this entire adventure— it’s what you’re calling it, not him— and now you’re begging for King Steve to make a special appearance, boss you around and maybe make you cry, if he’s lucky. He wishes that thought alone, the idea of you crying while he’s ruining you, didn’t make his dick so goddamn hard. You realize how conflicted he looks, wanting to be respectful, wanting to treat you like a person, not just another piece of ass he’s chasing for one night only. You also see the way his eyes darken when you ask him to be his old self, to be mean to you, and you’re determined to lure that part out of him.

“I’m a big girl, I can tell you to stop if I need. Promise, Steve.” You’re hoping this helps, it comes off as begging, like he’s in control, but you’ve got the reins here, even if it’ll all be in his favor. “C’monnnnn, you nearly died, don’t you wanna—“

Steve’s fingers wind through your hair, soft at first, but once he has the handful he was searching for, his grip tightens, hard. You whine at the way he tugs your head up closer to his, nearly meeting him at eye level, but you’re on your tippy toes regardless.

“Nearly died saving your sorry ass. We nearly fucking died, and all you can think of is getting off? Seriously?” Steve’s eyes drop to your lips, pouting with need. “Open.”

Your eyes widen at the way he’s switched so suddenly, mouth falling open on his command. He spits into your mouth, thriving over the sight of you gagging on his own spit, without even kissing you. “That enough? Or you need more?”

Unsure what he was asking this for, you shrug, pussy throbbing as he tugs harder on your locks. “Heard you had the best mouth in our class, wanna prove it?”

Dizzy, you nod softly, in awe of how quick it was for him to jump back into his old ways. “Please? Can I?” A mixture of his spit and yours spills between your lips, right onto yourself. He watches the mess you make with a smirk, one that would’ve killed you back in high school, and still kills you now.

“Only ‘cause you sound so goddamn pathetic right now.” Steve loosens his grip on your hair, but has enough of a hold to push you towards the floor. “On your knees, honey. You said we got time to kill, don’t fuckin’ waste it.”

#aaagdgyfdjhfdg im gonnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa lose my marbles just wanna- bye #hope u enjoy this pal ty for sending this!!#prompts #answered #blurbs #steve harrington smut #ns/fw

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trensu · 1 year

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Time travel AU, that takes place during in-universe present day and the time travel is actually future middle aged Steve getting accidentally sent back.

Like our 19yo steve is puttering about in his empty house minding his own business. And then he hears someone behind him Mutter vehemently, "fuck!" It gives him a heart attack, especially when he whirls around and sees, "dad?? What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York?"

The man who looks like his father gapes at him, and says "oh my god, I'm a toddler, jesus christ."

He then passes out and steve immediately lunges towards his phone to call Dustin.

Your typical time travel shenanigans ensue. It's all fine and dandy at first. Everyone oohs and ahhs over Future Steve. Present Day Steve is a bit in awe of his future self because the dude seems to have his life together. He's not saying anything no matter how many questions Steve throws at him because it might ruin the timeline or whatever the hell, but Steve can see it in the way he carries himself with a sort of relaxed confidence that Steve couldn't have faked even during his King days.

That awe lasts until Eddie shows up. Eddie burst into the room with his usual exuberance and beamed at Steve the way he always does when he visits that makes warmth bloom in Steve's chest like a carnivorous jungle flower. But then Eddie catches sight of Future Steve and he freezes. Future Steve grins at him and wiggles his fingers as a hello, which Eddie dimly mimics.

Steve and Dustin quickly inform Eddie what's up. Eddie laughs in disbelief, "two Steves. One from the future. Why the fuck not."

Future Steve laughs. "God, Eddie, you're so young! You're all kids."

Eddie flushes, "hey, I'm a grown man!"

"Boy, you can't even go for a drink without breaking the law right now."

Eddie splutters in embarrassment, and yet he proceeds to follow Future Steve around like a lost puppy. Steve doesn't like it. He especially doesn't like how squirmy and red Eddie gets whenever Future Steve pays him the slightest bit of attention. It's stupid. Eddie is acting stupid for no damn reason and it's like Steve doesn't even exist anymore.

(Steve pettily starts calling his future self Old Man Steve in his mind because fuck that guy, he thinks he's sooo cool but he isn't, he's just some boring old man that hasn't done anything to deserve Eddie's unwavering attention, what the fuck).

While Steve starts channeling his bitchy kingly self around Future Steve, the rest of the gang is working diligently to find a way to get Future Steve back home. Eventually some vague yet menacing government types show up. There has been, apparently, an entire branch of the research department created to figure out teleportation and other such sci-fi things that Steve is pretty sure they're making up on the spot.

Apparently, they noticed some weird readings on whatever fancy machines they got and came to investigate. Steve may not be a genius math whiz, but he's good at reading people. He can tell these guys know a hell of a lot more than they're saying. And he could've sworn that his future self actually recognized a couple of the scientists.

Steve lingers by the scientists, both miniature and full size, even though he's useless there because if he has to watch his future self laugh indulgently at Eddie's constant bids for attention he might have to dig out the nail bat. Instead he watches from the corner of his eye as Eddie excitedly asks about any dnd updates he could look forward to in the future; he watches Eddie shyly tug his hair over his mouth when Future Steve asks about his music. Steve's stomach sours at the way Eddie unconsciously sways into Future Steve's space during their conversation. He tries not to gag at how his future self's eyes glimmer with mirth at Eddie's antics.

Steve hates everything.

Eventually between the kid nerd brigade and the grown up nerd brigade, some sort of contraption is cobbled together that should send Future Steve back. Not that Future Steve or Eddie seem to notice, too wrapped up in each other. Has Steve mentioned he hates everything?

The lead scientist, the one Steve thinks his future self recognized, finishes calibrating the contraption with a pleased grin. She then turns to where Eddie and Future Steve are talking.

"Mr. Munson," she calls. Both Eddie and Future Steve turn around.

"Yeah?" they respond simultaneously. Future Steve freezes. The scientist chuckles.

"Apologies, I meant Steve Munson. Are you ready to go home?"

Steve is pretty sure his heart stopped in his chest. Eddie is gaping at Future Steve.

"Wait," Dustin says. "What?? Did you--Steve MUNSON?"

Future Steve smiles sheepishly. "Uh...I'd say I can explain, but I'm not sure if I should? You know. With the timeline and everything."

Dustin is running his mouth but Steve is absorbing none of it. He looks over to Eddie who looks as stunned as he feels. Steve goes and grabs his future self.

"Fuck the timeline," Steve chokes out past the lump in his throat. He grips Future Steve's arm desperately. "Are we--?" His voice cracks. "We're not alone? In the future? We're m-married?"

Future Steve softens. He places a firm hand on Steve's shoulder. "I know you won't believe this right now. I remember how I felt at this age. But yeah. We find someone who love us as much as we loved Nancy. We get married. He's our whole world, Steve."

Steve swallows. "...Eddie?" Future Steve nods and Steve takes a shaky breath. "He loves us back?"

"I know, right? I still don't know how we got so lucky."

Later, after Future Steve has gone back where he belongs (with his husband, Steve thinks in a daze), Eddie shows up on his doorstep. Steve lets him in and they stand there together in silence for a while. Eddie breaks first, tugging his hair over his mouth again.

"I never thought I'd get married," he says hesitantly. "I told myself it was because I didn't want to; forced conformity is bullshit, yeah? But that was a lie.

I mean forced conformity IS bullshit but I secretly thought being married would be...nice." Eddie's breath hitches. "To have someone in your corner. Someone who saw you and said yeah, that's the person I want to keep forever."

Steve reaches over and grabs Eddie's hand from where it's started to tug painfully at his curls. "I want to be in your corner." He doesn't say he wants to keep him forever, but he's pretty sure his expression betrays him if Eddie's quivering smile is anything to go by.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," he leans forward, resting his forehead on Steve's collar. Eddie sucks in a shaky breath. "Queers don't get married though. Queers get hunted down and murdered, Steve."

"Yeah, I know," he presses his cheek against Eddie's mop of curls. "Future me said we have to be careful. Patient. It'll be years and years, but someday we'll be able to, like, hold hands right out in the open and shit. We'd be able to marry. If you think you can be with me for that long, I'll make it happen, Eddie."

"You havent even asked me out for real yet," Eddie whines against Steve's shoulder. "Where's that charm? I may be a poor boy but I deserve to be wooed."

Steve barks out a surprised laugh.

"The drive in is doing a double feature this Friday, what do you think?"

Eddie pulls back with an exaggerated sigh.

"If that's the best you can do--"

"Hey!"

"--then I guess it's a start. But I'm expecting something fancy for a second date. I'm a girl with refined taste, you know."

"Confident about getting a second date already?"

"Mmhmm. I have it on good authority that this is gonna go for the long run, Stevie boy."

#trensu tells stories #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #time travel au

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oneatlatime · 7 months

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Zuko Alone

I'm hoping for some Appa this episode. It's been too long since he's gotten any good sight gags.

Zuko is cosplaying Clint Eastwood. He's also back to being stupid pale this episode.

You know it's a good thing that Zuko's not in the Fire Nation anymore because he really would have sucked at being Fire Nation. Robbing pregnant women is probably kindergarden level stuff for them.

How is Zuko in such bad shape? Last time we saw him he had a cave full of spoils robbed from rich people. Did he not bother to pack at least some of that stuff? Actually, not thinking far enough ahead to pack would be pretty in character.

Oof that would rub me the wrong way. Not enough money for a meal, but sure, let's use totally edible eggs as ammo.

Where'd the egg go?

Who is the scarred up hat wearing vampire and what happened to the real Zuko? Imposter Zuko just elected to not be provoked into a fight. Real Zuko would already be setting things on fire.

Just a bunch of thugs. Yep. It's consistently awesome how many of the facets of war this show can cover.

Imposter Zuko and Song's horse bird just got kidnapped. Did not see that coming.

Zuko kind of has arm bandages like Sokka has this episode. Also love the character detail that the boy has scraped knees.

Is the kid's dad the same guy as the man at the store? Or maybe this is a one haircut town?

So the guy who was near to fainting off his horse bird this morning is now turning down freely offered food? Could Zuko please shelve his pride for five minutes? Kudos to the mom for accurately reading his distaste for charity and turning it into a request for aid though. Although covering for the boy's egg trick is worth at least a meal.

Tangent!

I don't get Zuko. How can he still have so much pride when he's wearing rags and starving himself to feed Song's horse bird? I'm quite shameless when it comes to accepting help and I've never, ever been able to understand the whole 'too proud to accept charity' mindset. I'm always up for some charity. I have enough manners to offer to do the dishes after, but if you're offering free food I'm eating it. And I've never been in a situation as desperate as Zuko's. So I don't get this.

ok tangent over.

Peak rich kid behaviour. I hope those nails aren't expensive otherwise Zuko doing work for food might end up with this family out of pocket.

Is the wood grain on this ladder an actual photograph of wood grain?

Zuko has more patience this episode than he had for all of season 1 combined. He's also never gone this long without yelling. Either proximity to young children activates Zuko's otherwise mostly slumbering decency, or to fit him into a Fistful of Dollars homage the writers had to make him out of character.

If I had been in this situation when I was a kid, if I had been a) this visibly bored, and b) this nosy around guests, I would have been given a hammer and a bag of nails in three seconds flat. Also, nice to see a Sokka face from Zuko.

I get that 'a man without a past' is a staple of the cowboy genre, but the boy's father bringing up the privacy of the past twice in like two minutes makes me think he's done stuff he doesn't want to talk about. Seems both the parents have read Zuko right though.

Finally! Some pretty! I have been suffering! This may be the first really good pretty all season!

Bad news for the Appa decor on my blog. He may have been supplanted in my affections.

Two things: first, Zuko is a carbon copy of his mom. Second, That is way too much forehead.

Having Zuko's mom introduce herself by talking about the lengths mothers will go to for their children is not giving me foreshadowing anxiety at all.

Azula's been a bitch since birth. Noted.

Sir, your eyebrows. Also, yeah, I wouldn't want to play with her either.

Yikes this is making my teeth itch and my skin crawl. Calling it now, she's rotten to the core.

Zuko and Azula's dad has some weak ass genes. BOTH of his children are carbon copies of their mom.

Also, I was not expecting Zuko's very stupid ponytail to be a pre-scar thing. It is much better with a full head of hair.

If I had spent my childhood hanging out with an untouchable princess who set things on my head on fire for fun whenever I involuntarily displayed emotion, I'd be gloomy and apathetic in self defense too.

Sokka in this episode in spirit, if not in person.

Seriously that's the same face three times over!

Um, no? If Iroh doesn't make it back from the front, doesn't his son become next in line to be Firelord?

Can you hear all the unspoken "father thinks that" and "father says that" in front of every one of Azula's opinions in this whole scene? I stand by my assertion that she's awful anyways, but she's also obviously drunk much too much of her dad's koolaid, if you know what I mean.

This kid is going to get into so much trouble one of these days. Provoking the soldiers, nagging the mysterious stranger with the mysterious past, and now taking his weapons? Kid's sweet but he really needs to learn when to stop pushing his luck.

Stabbing dead, dried wood sounds like a great way to utterly annihilate the edge on those. Hope Zuko packed a whetstone.

Where is this patience coming from? I don't understand and it's BUGGING me.

Hold on. Technical problems.

My very basic DVD player sometimes has difficulty with these disks. Whatever happened between the above two screenshots, I've missed it. So picking back up from the one on the right...

Either these soldiers are impressively cowardly (which, yeah) or Zuko's really been working on his death glare, because they've got him outnumbered and out-armoured and they still back off.

OH it's parallels! Zuko's cousin and the boy's older brother. Got it. Kind of a false parallel though. Grandson of the Firelord does not equal earth kingdom conscript.

Give the demonstrably impulsive and nosy child a knife. That'll work out just fine I'm sure. Pretty sad the kid glommed on to Zuko so quickly, but it's also yet another realistic representation of the consequences of war. This show's good.

*shudders* theatre kids.

She's tiny! Do you know how darkly humourous it is to watch a two foot tall baby spout her father's murderous nonsense? Once again, in this whole scene, not a word out of Azula's mouth is actually Azula's.

"What is wrong with that child?" Apart from budding homicidal and psychopathic tendencies? Her dad. Her dad is what's wrong with that child.

Their dad has no subtlety at all. And also no brain? You think a day after the firelord finds out one of his family died is the right time to very boorishly make a play for the crown with you daughter as a prop? Could you possibly come up with a better demonstration of why this guy shouldn't be in charge?

How did this asshole land such a nice wife?

Yep. Siding with the old firelord on this one.

Does flashback Zuko sleep in his day clothes? Because that's not ok.

I like that their mom sees straight through Azula's lying here. She knows her daughter.

In a move that should surprise no one, everything Zuko touches turns to shit, as usual.

It's the Mexico filter!

Absolute truth from Zuko in that monologue. He's got them pegged. Too bad it fell on deaf ears. It's Zuko's curse, that whenever he approaches being remotely reasonable, he happens to be surrounded by people who will react in such a way that Zuko learns to equate being reasonable with failure.

An earthbender. The bare feet should have clued me in.

Last season Zuko and Iroh laid waste to like ten of these guys. And Iroh didn't even have pants. So what gives? Is he that starved?

Ursa pulling a Mufasa.

Don't answer don't answer don't answer

And he does.

Zuko is so very good at completely misinterpreting the point.

So we can add thief to the list of things that make Azula awful. Also that delivery of "who's going to make me? Mom?" is chilling. Zuko's lost his only defender inside this atrocious family and she knows it, he knows it, hell the turtleducks probably know it.

His dying wish? You guys buying that?

Ozai. That's his name. I'd forgotten that.

So... something something dead firelord something something missing mom something something maybe Azula wasn't actually lying this time?

Final Thoughts

The title wasn't kidding. Let's rename the show 'Avatar: the Guy who's Really Bad at Capturing Him' while we're at it.

There is now no way whatsoever that Zuko is not going to be redeemed. No writing team would invest that much energy and a whole episode into a character we're not ultimately supposed to root for. So somehow he's going to end up joining the Gaang. Don't know how he'll pull that one off. He's done some pretty not great stuff. And it's not like the Gaang watched this episode and unlocked his tragic backstory.

Speaking of, what prompted these reflections? I could understand if Zuko started to contemplate his cousin and the events surrounding his loss in the war after he learned about the family's older brother, but he was having flashbacks before he even got to town. Usually when there are backstory bits, there's a good reason to show them at that time, like how the Storm prompts Aang to think about the last storm he was in, or seeing a boat from his father's fleet prompts Sokka to remember what his dad told him. So what caused Zuko's memories to give him situationally appropriate flashbacks?

Pretty funny that he found the Nice Earth Kingdom Family that Azula predicted for him. And they are really nice! Either Zuko is an open book or the parents' social intelligence is off the charts because they're giving him exactly what he needs to feel at ease after barely a single conversation.

Speaking of Azula, I'm not surprised to find that she's always had deeply awful tendencies, even as a child of (I'm guessing) less than ten. But it cannot be ignored that, from the moment her father took a liking to her (as a tool to boost his own greatness, if not as a person), she didn't stand a chance. You can tell by the number of times that the stuff coming out of her mouth is a thinly veiled repetition of her father's unfiltered opinions, that she's been spending lots of time listening to him, probably while he puts down her mom and brother and talks about how she's the special one. You know what I'm getting at. Azula never stood a chance once her father got involved, and her mom lost the ability to influence her once her father started giving Azula praise for objectively wrong behaviour. That being said, Azula is awful even when she doesn't need to be awful for her father's approval, like when she's with her friends, so it's not all her father's doing. She's not a good person but she also had plenty of help to become that.

I guess Zuko and his mom are Fire Nation anomalies? And maybe Iroh has become that since his son died and he lost the war?

How on earth did Zuko survive as long as he did in the palace without his mom to protect him? What a no-win situation to be in. The only person in a whole nation with empathy.

This episode does makes Season 1 Zuko make more sense. He's been larping his dad as a defense mechanism for surviving the Fire Nation/probably a very futile effort to earn his approval. Although Zuko doesn't seem to care much for his dad if the tone he takes with him by the turtleduck pond is any indication.

Being banished was the best thing that ever happened to Zuko. The more distance between him and his remaining non-uncle family, the better. Between prioritizing his crew over capturing the avatar in the Storm, releasing the Avatar in the Blue Spirit, and now defending a random earth kingdom child this episode, it's hilarious how much Zuko HASN'T learned the lesson that Ozai banished him for not knowing. Don't get me wrong; that's a good thing. This episode plainly shows that behaviour that pleases Ozai is behaviour that should be unlearned as quickly as possible.

Zuko completely missing the point of his mom's last instruction is delightfully on the nose. But it also makes sense, which I may talk more about later.

How did Zuko hold on to his temper (and his volume) for a whole episode?

How did a show named after the main character get away with an episode that doesn't feature him at all? As a concept, this is such a strange episode. The writers were like "how can we kick start the woobification of Zuko? I know! A Spaghetti Western!" and it worked. Who comes up with that?

I now want at least as much, if not more, of Sokka and Katara's childhood via flashbacks. And more Gyatso please. If they can devote a whole episode to the childhood of a guy who isn't even a team member yet, they can show me some Sokka childhood shenanigans as a palette cleanser.

I really don't know what conclusion to draw about this episode. The writers have given me a massive backstory/trauma dump and I'm honestly like:

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #zuko alone #I really don't know what to make of this one

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 23 - Deepthroating

Ghost x Soap ft. Price- 1.1k

summary: Simon has Johnny deepthroat him as a punishment, then lets Price have a turn. (Ghost POV)

cw: dom!ghost, dom!price, sub!soap, voyeurism, putting a cigar out on someone's tongue, light degradation, referenced somnophilia (one line)

Ghost cups the side of Johnny’s face in his hand, strokes his thumb over his temple and applies just a bit of pressure against the shaved sides with his fingertips. Johnny’s eyes flicker open at the pressure, glancing up to Ghost before sliding shut again.

He smiles at the sight of his boy so blissed out, gone stupid on his cock.

This is just what Johnny had needed. Worked up after a mission gone wrong, he’d been twitchy and snappish for days. He was a bit better with Ghost in the privacy of their quarters, but had been a demon to deal with anywhere else on base. The recruits hadn't stopped whining since he'd gotten back, and Soap wasn't showing any signs of calming down as the days passed.

Ghost's breaking point had come when Johnny started his snipping and bitching at Ghost and Price - and in front of other soldiers. He'd been so worked up, tension riding every bone of his body while he was hissing and spitting about some asinine complaint. He'd gotten himself so riled up that Ghost ended up having to drag him off to their room to put him back in his place privately, and he hadn't had any compunctions about waving at Price to follow him.

Now Johnny sinks an inch further onto Ghost’s cock, the entirety of his thick shaft resting inside his mouth. Ghost knows he must be fighting every instinct to keep from gagging, feels his warm throat spasm occasionally, but he stays good and still like he was trained.

“There ya go,” Ghost soothes, pushing his head just a hint more to keep Soap’s nose pressed to his stomach. “Just what you needed, huh? Need to be shown what you should be usin’ your mouth for. Meant to be suckin’ men off, Johnny, not talkin’ back to your superiors.”

Price hums in agreement at that, his own legs spread wide in the armchair next to where Ghost sits. He takes a long puff of his cigar, exhales the smoke straight up towards the ceiling.

“I still think you should be giving him a whipping,” Price grumbles, shifting to run a hand over his hard cock where it rests against his thigh. “Hard-headed thing like him won’t learn shit from this.”

Ghost only smirks beneath the mask. “He’ll get his real punishment later, he knows that. But I don’t share his pain.” He sends a sharp look to his C.O. - even though he’d allow Price to see Johnny like this now, anything more belonged to Simon and Simon alone. Price gives him a nod, a little twitch to his lips telegraphing his amusement at the possessiveness. It doesn't bother Ghost - he's made sure it's no secret who Johnny belongs to.

He shifts his hand to give a light tug to Johnny’s hair. “Alright. You’re gonna go ahead and get me off, then go apologize to the Captain properly, yeah?”

Johnny doesn’t respond, just blinks slowly and sucks a little at the tip of Simon’s cock. He laughs a little at the sight, guides Johnny’s head in long and slow strokes up and down his dick. “Don’t know why I bother askin’, you’re too dumb to answer right now. Just suck a little bit, baby, then we’ll give Price a turn with your mouth.”

The blowjob is slower than most Johnny gives, mostly because Simon controls the pace and Johnny himself is too far gone to want anything faster. He runs his tongue along Ghost’s cock just the way he likes, though, and hollows his cheeks to give Simon a nice tight hole.

He buries himself deep in Johnny’s throat when he comes, making sure that every drop goes right to his stomach - this is still a punishment after all, he doesn't deserve to taste Simon's cum, just to swallow it. He leaves Johnny there for a few moments, letting his cock soften in the wet warmth and making sure not a drop is wasted. Johnny would rest on his cock for hours with the headspace he’s in, so Ghost is the one that slowly pulls him away.

Johnny makes a low noise in his throat once his mouth is empty, leans his head on Ghost’s thigh and stares up at him with half-lidded eyes. His jaw stays open, little panting breaths passing swollen lips.

“Good boy, Johnny,” Ghost praises. “Gonna be good for Price too? Take his cock and keep it nice and warm in your mouth?”

Another whine from Soap, and a snort from Price.

“Doesn’t look like he’s aware enough to make it any good.”

“Oh, he is. Even fucked out and stupid, he knows how to properly suck a cock. The slut’s been doing it for years, can even give a decent blowjob when he’s asleep.”

“And you’ve seen that?”

Ghost smirks. “What better way to wake up than the taste of cum in your mouth? It's a slut’s favorite breakfast.”

That gets a full laugh from Price, his cock bouncing where his stomach heaves. He sits a little straighter in his seat, pats his thigh a few times. “Alright, let's get this done then. C’mere, Johnny.”

It takes Soap a bit to move over to Price, his limbs heavy and movements sluggish. His eyes never quite open the whole way, but his mouth opens wide as soon as he gets himself between his Captain’s knees.

“Tongue out for me, Sergeant.”

Johnny’s pink tongue unfurls immediately, rests on his lip and leaves his chin a little wet. Price grabs him by the jaw with his free hand, holds his lit cigar above the muscle and looks to Ghost for permission, gets a nod and puts his cigar out on Johnny’s tongue

The smaller man whines at that, the noise loud and unblocked with his mouth held open, a pure sound of pain and a bit of confusion - Johnny’s drifted too far to know what is and isn’t a punishment, probably sees any pain that doesn’t get him off as bad at that moment. Ghost sees a few tears slip down his cheeks, feels his cock twitch at Johnny’s furrowed brows and wet eyes.

“Hush, boy,” Price grumbles, running a thumb over the ashy spot on Johnny’s tongue and ignoring the ensuing whimpers. He clears the spot off, then guides his head to his ruddy cock. Johnny whines a little more, but sinks down on the shaft in one long, smooth movement. “You’re fine. Get me off and then your man’ll give you some nice cuddles before your whipping.”

Ghost settles back with a smirk, stroking his cock slowly to the show his boy gives. Price isn't wrong - Soap's in for a rough punishment, but he already knows he'll spend a few long hours with the smaller man curled around him tonight.

He's not sure he could ask for a better evening.

#kinktober 2023 #ghoap #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #bo writes #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john mactavish x simon riley #johnny soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #soap mactavish x ghost riley #john price x simon riley x john mactavish #ghostsoap smut #ghoap smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #kinktober day 23 #kinktober

79 notes · View notes

b000mbayah · 11 months

Text

Alphabet love Sana

જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴

Requested: Yes

Word count: 1,378

Warnings: None

જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴

Attention

When is there ever a moment without you being smothered in her love? Sana snuggles you as often as possible and keeps you close like a polar bear and its child.

Beauty

Your love for each other is pure and straight from the heart. It often has your friends gagging at the sight, but you know they're secretly happy that you're happy.

Comfort

Sana values your comfort as much as she does her own. If you're not feeling okay, Sana will help aid you to a secure setting and reassure you as much as needed.

Dreams

Sana often jokes about how she never wants to sleep again, now that her real world is finally better than her sleep one. But that still doesn't stop you from appearing in her dreams when she does sleep.

Equality

Sana does believe in equality, that equality is one of the most important aspects to any kind of relationship. However, in certain situations, one of you will have more power than the other- and that's perfectly fine as long as you're both okay with it.

First encounter

It was at her close friends' birthday dinner when she first met you. You showed up in a more casual attire- yet Sana could swear on everything that she had never seen someone more stunning than you. Sana ended up spending most of the night talking to you, right after claiming a seat adjacent to you. She ended up sleeping like a baby that night, with a few drinks stirring in her head, your face in her heart, and your contact in her phone.

Gratitude

Sana absolutely loves you and often shows you just how much through romantic dates and the use of her love languages. This is just her way of appreciating you.

Hugs

Back hugs, side hugs, regular hugs. They all hold a huge place in your relationship. Sana loves to nuzzle her head into you, squeezing you lightly as she giggles away to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Interests

You may not share the same interests, but Sana would be more than over the moon to share her hobbies with you, and she'd be even more ecstatic if you introduced her to your own interests. She'd sit through years of movie marathons with you if it means you're spending time together.

Jealousy

Sana gets jealous, and when she gets jealous, she gets pouty and almost baby-like. She'll sulk in the corner, her bottom lip protruding out until you notice her. She'll be stubborn about it too- she'll refuse to talk to you for an hour or two until you smother her in your love for her.

Knowledge

Sana has had her fair share of crushes, but relationships? Sana couldn't really remember her last one of those. She'd try her best for you no matter what, but she'd need your willingness and cooperation too.

Love confession

She had confessed first, albeit it was just a smidge bit spontaneous and not exactly… memorable, partly because she was drunk and passed out right after. You were only there to help her home when she flung her arm around the back of your neck and confessed, saying "I think you could be an even better friend, if we were more than friends" when you questioned her the next day, she admitted with a shy smile and a face of heavy blush.

Memories

Sana often snaps silly and goofy selfies of you two- or even just pictures of you- or forcing you to take pictures of herself. She claims it's for memories sake, which is half true, but it's also so she can ugly laugh in her own time about how stupid you both truly are with each other.

Naps

Sana needs to uphold her energetic ways one way or another, so naps are a perfect fit for just this. Sana would demand you join her too- claiming she can't nap without you being her nap buddy. Will layer you both in blankets and sheets, pillows lining the bed, or couch, or anywhere really, as long as she can nap with you.

Opportunities

Sana would never, ever want to miss out on an opportunity if it means being with you. Sana sees every opportunity as a chance to get to know one another impossibly more somehow, and if she squeezes the towel enough, she knows she'll be able to get something new, even if you, yourself, didn't know it.

PDA

You know the saying, "No Sana, no life" well, to Sana, it's more like "No PDA, no life." Sana takes PDA like it's her second job, like she has an unspoken role to fulfil in the eye of the demanding public. Of course, if you're not completely comfortable with this, then she'll reframe, but she wants nothing more than to show you off to the world as her only sweetheart.

Quality

Think of a surreal scene in a mystical forest, where unicorns jump after bubbles. Now, picture yourself and Sana. There's literally no difference. Your relationship is purer than the rarest gems and stronger than titanium. She loves you across the universe and back, and as do you, so your relationship is almost unrealistically desirable.

Romance

Sana can be extremely romantic at times. A surprise dinner date. A surprise bouquet of your favourite (possibly fake if you're allergic) flowers on your work desk. A surprise Teddy already sat in your shared bed when you get home. It's honestly become such a common thing that your shared apartment is almost decorated in only the gifts Sana has gotten you. How you decide to be romantic is up to you. Just know Sana will love it more than anything in the world.

Support

Sana will always be here to supply you with her shoulder to cry on- or just her in general. She'll hug you throughout the night and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as she plays with your hair, stroking your face delicately as if she could break you from the sheer simplicity of her touch. Expect nothing less than a heartfelt night of compliments and gentle kisses.

Thrill

There is a relatively large dosage of thrill within your relationship, and it's refreshing every time you pull a stupid little prank on a friend of either hers or yours. You always find yourselves even more desperately in love with each other somehow after having escaped the loser police… A.K.A. one of your raging friends.

Understanding

Sana understands that people clash, it's in every animal's survival instinct to fend for its own purposes- so if an argument ever does break out, Sana has learnt to reflect and learn for next time… right before she profusely apologies.

Vows

Sana vows to never hurt you, to bring you as much joy as she possibly can through the use of her bubbly personality and cutesy appearance. Sana knows the hold she has over you is powerful, and she'll use that to her advantage through the use of her promises.

Work

Sana loves it when you make little star appearances at her work place, whether that be you just coming to say "hi" during your free day, or dropping off something she forgot at home, or even the occasion where you bring her and her members bags full of food (always junk food and sweets). Obviously, Sana loves visiting your workplace too and hanging out with your small group of co-workers you know well enough to deem as "work pals." It just shows a sense of bond to Sana, and it warms her heart so, so much.

XOXO

Kisses and hugs- this is Sanas' love language, and she wants to share it with you as often as possible.

Youth

The youth of your relationship stems from the reliability of your almost crackhead selves. With your bursting energy combined, it's almost as if you're both toddlers that have mistakenly been put in a pair of adult bodies. Sometimes you wonder if there are babies wandering around in dresses and suits doing business…

Zany

As much as Sana swears by nose kisses and giggly hugs, she knows very well when to take a situation seriously when required. She's not a complete child.

#twice sana #alphabet love #requested #sana fluff #minatozaki sana #sana #alphabet love sana #jyp sana #minatozaki sana x reader #twice sana x reader #sana x reader #gxg

116 notes · View notes

love-toxin · 1 year

Note

Joker from persona 5 for the smut alphabet with a gn reader if i may ask lovely 🌹

ohhhhh u got me in a p5 mood babey!!!! <33

joker [akira kurusu] - (a-z)

(cws: gn!reader, various kinks, roleplay, very few minor spoilers, couple mentions of body insecurity, ambiguously post-canon, dirty talk, mild possessiveness, gags, a bit of public indecency.)

A = Aftercare

Such a cuddler. He's clinging to you before you've even caught up with that last big gasp your orgasm punched out of you, snuggled right up to your side with his arms around you to ease you back down from that near-unreachable high. He holds you so tight and so warm in his chest, squeezing you just hard enough not to hurt but to comfort--and as soon as you're calm enough for him to get up, he slips down into the cafe to make you some tea and fix you a little snack. He'll even run out to the grocery store down the alley if it's still open, if you ask him for something he doesn't have on hand. No gesture is too much work for his baby, and he's never too tired to do something that will make you smile.

B = Bondage

Tying you up? Yeah, he likes it--more than he should, he feels. It's kind of strange to think of himself as a kinky person, he feels a bit like a pervert in that sense, but the thrill he gets out of binding your arms back and leaving you helpless before him is totally undeniable. He likes that you can't cover your face to hide those pretty expressions he draws out of you, and he loves hearing you beg to touch him back with a blindfold snug over your eyes. You don't even know what you want, you can't tell where the pleasure's gonna come from next and you couldn't prepare for it even if you did--you just turn into a sweet, needy mess that just has to lay back and be worshipped, and what's not to like about that?

C = Cum

He cums a lot, much more than average, and he's pretty aware of it even though he's relatively inexperienced. It's potent and probably an effect of his persona's power since he never really noticed it before, but either way it just gushes out of him like a firehouse and it's pretty hard to control. He makes such a mess whenever he tries to pull out and shoot one out on your legs or your tummy, but your face is always a huge casualty too. It gets in your eyelashes, your hair, down your chin, your brows, just everywhere. He's like a one-man bukkake, and while it's something he's a little insecure about it's honestly impressive. It's pretty cute when he apologizes for it too, and blabbers on about how you just sounded and looked so adorable that he couldn't help himself...

D = Dirty Secret

If you were really insecure in the beginning of your relationship and had a hard time relaxing while doing the deed, Akira has gone into Mementos alone and searched out your shadow to see if he could help you from the inside out. His reassurances never seemed to go anywhere and since you always ended up feeling worse for not being able to just enjoy yourself (probably because of some insensitive comment from an ex or just self-esteem in general), he knew it had to be something deeper that maybe he could help you with. He really wasn't expecting your shadow self to spill your guts to him at the first sight of him without any battling necessary, and he also wasn't expecting that questionably hot dark version of you to paw at him and push him down to climb on top--but since it seemed to help you tremendously in real life, Akira secretly heads down to Mementos whenever you get stuck in a depressioned rut, and fucks that other self of yours stupid to remind the real you of how gorgeous and absolutely desirable he finds you.

E = Experience

Akira hasn't got too much experience with intimacy itself. He's rarely ever had crushes, even, up until he met you--and after you, he never found the same feelings welling up inside when he thought about anyone else. Before you dated and when he was in that phase of just crushing hard, he tried time and time again to turn his affections elsewhere so as to not ruin your precious friendship by confessing one-sidedly. But that only made him realize that you really were the only one for him, and he would never want anyone else except for you. How could anyone even try to measure up, let alone compare? You're just perfect.

F = Favourite Position

Missionary man all the way. He likes other positions but none feel as intimate to him, he likes the hitch of your legs around his waist and the untouchable closeness of being chest to chest and mouth to mouth as he makes love to you. Plus your hands on his back accelerate the experience for him, being surrounded by you and cushioned by your body and inside you all at once....it's a dream that he would never trade for anything. But of course, he's not entirely close-minded; he's definitely willing to experiment if his angel wishes for it to be so, he would be absolutely tickled pink to sit and listen to you talk with a hot face as you explain to him what you want him to do to you, how you want him to move you, and how you want him to take you.

G = Gloat

He's not really a mean kind of person (not unless it's directed towards someone who seriously deserves it) so it doesn't come out too much in the bedroom, or in any aspect of your relationship. But he does get possessive, and he has a habit of letting his stream of consciousness spill out in a murmur right next to your ear, all while he pins you where he wants you and gives you something to moan about. "Nobody gets to have you like this but me. You think I would ever give you away? No, precious. Never. You'd have to kill me before another man puts his hands on you, and even then they'd never take care of you as good as I do. Only I can make you cum the way you need."

H = Hair

He's just really not a hairy guy, he's got some bush and a bit on the undercarriage but he shaves it to the point that it's pretty sparse, but what he does have is quite dark and wiry. So if he ever did leave it untamed you'd be in for quite the jungle to cut through, but even so he'd at least trim it for you because he's a gentleman. And on the flipside, his inexperience means he doesn't know really know what to expect, so whatever you choose to do with your own hair is just what he assumes is normal. He has no business telling you to grow it or shave it, and he wouldn't because would it really make any difference? Your hair or lack thereof isn't what attracted him to you so it really doesn't have any bearing in the grand scheme of things.

I = Intoxication

Not much of a drinker, but if you have a night out with his friends from high school he can get quite clingy with a drink or two in him. Twirling a piece of your hair around his finger and mumbling in your ear about when you can go home, or just when you can find a place to sneak off--no, he's not too drunk, he can be quiet while you play with him. He promises. (Lie) His friends are definitely gonna hear you giving him brain in the bathroom at the bar, and it's gonna be quite the awkward situation to come back to with Akira's fumbling and his red cheeks and Ryuji laughing his ass off in a half-shocked half-congratulatory reaction.

K = Kiss

J = Jack off

Not a big self-pleasurer. Porn isn't really his thing, in video form or in magazines, and with his open-concept room he's quite aware of the lack of privacy that might compromise an unsuspecting visitor's image of him. Plus he's got a hard time controlling his volume. So if he does do it, he keeps it short and sweet, but when you're dating he usually just saves it for when you're over or you have a bit of time to sneak away for a rendezvous. You make him feel better than touching himself alone does anyways.

He's not a kissy person in a public setting, really he can barely hold your hand in public without getting flustered. But that shyness goes out the window the moment you're alone, when nobody's around to see it Akira could spend the rest of his life just planting soft, fluttering kisses all up and down your body. He especially likes to kiss your hands and your knuckles, and especially when he's buried inside you and looking down on that sweet face that makes him so, so happy. He'll just take your hand and bring it to his lips, squeezing your interlaced fingers and planting kisses on each knuckle until you're squirming and warm under the constant attention. He loves to feel you clenching down on him when he does that, it makes it feel even more special and so much more passionate.

L = Lazy

If he's too tired or if you feel like doing all the work, he's happy albeit a little shyer than usual to let you get on top and ride him. He tries to beg you to sit on his face instead, he doesn't want you to see how red he's gonna get and how pathetic he'll look when he gets to watch you....but he'll probably lose like he usually does against you, and you'll get to watch that pretty face contort in all sorts of ways as you bring him to his end faster and even harder than usual.

M = Marking

He'll leave some scratches and a few bruises here and there, but never anything too severe or sore. He does enjoy it when you drag your nails down his back though, he wants to see those raised streaks of red in the mirror the next morning and know that he fucked you good, good enough for some of them to bleed. It's an almost masochistic kind of pleasure that he's not sure of where it stems from, but he likes it and it makes him happy so it really doesn't matter all that much.

N = CNC

It's not something he's ever really considered, but he might enjoy playing out a scenario while he's donning his Joker costume. The masked hero taking his reward from an adorable victim who owes him their life....yeah, that's not a bad idea at all. Especially if you whimper out those little cries of "This is wrong, sir!" while you moan at the same time, that really revs some kind of desire he didn't know he had. He always ends up turning a little soft in the end and dropping the act when he's ready to cum--that's when he's so vulnerable that he just wants the affection of his angel and nothing else.

O = Oral

Again, pretty inexperienced in this avenue, but he really wants to practice and try it out to get better. He wants you to love having his head between your thighs, he wants to be known for it--he wants you to quiver when he suggests giving you head, and fold when he looks in your direction and makes a gesture that lets you know exactly where he wants to put his mouth. Having you grip his hair and hump his face because you can't get enough is his dream, and he's determined to make it a reality. Especially since you seem to be effortlessly good at it, either because he's extra sensitive or because you just know all the things he likes and every button to push to have him spurting ropes down your throat in minutes. He wants to get that same reaction out of you, he's got to.

P = Panties

Honestly he really likes the idea of fucking you while you're wearing his clothes. Or jerking him off with your hands donning his infamous gloves. But as far as underwear goes, he likes licking you over it and leaving a big wet patch from his spit in the fabric as you tremble and start messing it all up, especially when he pulls away and you just whine that he's a tease as you start touching yourself under it. It's such an easy way to have you looking all cute and clingy and staining your clothes like he's marking his territory.

Q = Quickie

You'd think he wouldn't be too fond of potentually exposing himself in public, but quickies are one of those things that he feels so dirty doing it actually leads him to doing it more. He's definitely humped your throat in an alleyway a couple times, and even let you ride him atop the ceiling of a palace or somewhere deep and hidden in Mementos while the others look for him. Mostly cause it's fun, but also because it really turns him on to think that you're needy enough that you'd urge him to do something so indecent that could get you both in so much trouble--and because he loves you, he simply has no choice but to satiate you when you need to be serviced. Ah, what a regrettable, yet unavoidable curse!

R = Risk

There's not much of a risk factor with him, he plays things pretty safe even when you're doing things in a bit of an impromptu manner. Teasing him about doing things a little more raw after you get married is a one-way ticket to flustering him though, and giving him the idea of not using a condom or not pulling out because you're completely devoted to each other....it's a dangerous thought. It's so intimate and you've only done that a couple times, so thinking about doing it all the time and leaving you leaking and full of his seed just shifts something around in his brain and makes him totally sensitive and shy until he gets it out of his system. Besides, a lot of that comes from you suggesting the two of you having a wedding and him being your husband--how is he supposed to react when that's his deepest desire and something he's already saving up for?

S = Spit

He likes having you clean his cock with your spit, and he gets unfathomably dirty with it if you let him run with it. Mutters on about how "You left my lap all sticky, go ahead and clean it up for me." with a hand perched in your hair. He sticks his fingers in your mouth and shifts them around like he's doing an inspection before he lets you lower your mouth to his dick, and it's all to have you salivating so your tongue's nice and wet when you move to lick your own cum off his glistening shaft. Make it as wet and sloppy as possible, and he'll reward those dripping, swollen lips with as many kisses you can handle--on both ends, no less.

T = Toys

Absolutely no idea what he's doing with them. If you explain to him that they help you get where you need to go, so to speak, then he'll be happy to explore them a little more with you. You'll have to introduce him slowly cause it intimidates him a little, especially if you're more familiar with them than he is--but once he gets a handle on them, he actually turns into kind of a pervert about it. He'll buy you something new that he wants to try together or just something he knows will make you cum really fast, and he always, always wants you to demo them for him. Show him how good you feel with them, won't you? He's gotta know if they work so he can take them back if they don't. Has to be a diligent customer, right? So don't be shy about telling him everything you're feeling when you touch yourself with it for him to watch.

V = Volume

U = Unfair

That quiet nature masks the biggest tease on earth, you could swear he's like another person when you're alone or when you're with his friends. From making dirty jokes to placing a well-timed hand on your thigh during a group conversation over dinner, Akira teases you like it's his day job and he always reaps the benefits as much as he pays the consequences. As possessive as he can get when he really gets into that mood, a plea from Yusuke to make a nude painting of you will get a burst of laughter out of your boyfriend, before he playfully jokes that he could stand in and describe you to him instead because he knows you inside and out. A playful shove and a chorus of giggles and lighthearted scolding from Ann for being a pervert later, and Akira will be on top of you in his bed with lust-filled eyes and a whispered promise that he'll never let someone else peek at you under your clothes. "That's all for me, isn't it sweetheart?"

He likes to think he's quiet but he's really not. You can hear him moaning from the bottom floor of Leblanc if he's touching himself while waiting for you to arrive, and you just have to thank the powers that be that he never does it while the café is open, lest he get the most embarrassing lecture from Sakura that would just burn him alive. Gagging him with your underwear or a hanky is really the only option if you want to take things elsewhere or if there's people around, or else bystanders are gonna get some pretty visceral descriptions about how hard Akira's gonna cum for you and exactly how soft and tight you are as you're squeezing his cock.

W = Wildcard

His favourite way to receive head is to be on top. It's weird, at least he thinks so, but he just really like the idea of straddling your shoulders, hunching over you to clutch a pillow in his arms above your head, and slowly rock his hips to plunge his cock down your throat in a steady rhythm. You can't move, can't get up, can't even speak in this position, all you can do is spit and choke and gag when he gives you a spare moment to breathe, but it's all at his command, all at his leisure. He likes the thought of possibly falling asleep while he's nestled so deep inside you, and pinning his hips to your poor face as you're forced to lay there and just suckle on it until he cums hard enough to wake up. It's quite the vulnerable position, but if you ever agreed to try it with him, he might just die out of pure adoration and worship you to the heavens.

X = X-Ray

Smooth and unblemished. It's mostly on the straight side with a bit of a curve down, and not too slim but he's got some heft packed on to the underside that makes it feel a lot heavier. The tip has a deeper ridge that you really feel when he first pushes in, deep enough that it catches when he pulls out too and makes it feel like he's suctioned tight inside you and can't pull out without some force. But that also makes it easier for him to plug you up with cum, and when he does unhitch himself, he always leaves it spilling out quickly and making a right mess all over your poor legs. His balls aren't huge or especially heavy, but they're shockingly soft and pretty smooth and almost artistic in the way they rest against your backside when he's nestled in deep inside you. Also very, very sensitive, and you can feel them twitch whenever he cums as they tighten up and then relax once his cum starts pumping out and easing the pressure. He mumbles about how dirty you are when you lick them because of how your head's positioned, but you both know he loves it and it makes him even cuddlier and needier with you after he cums.

Y = Yearning

Nothing turns him on like you calling him your hero. Teasingly or seriously, it stirs something inside him that can't be ignored--he promises to be your hero always, to do the right thing and to rescue you whenever you need saving, wherever either of you may be. But it's a little more flustering when he makes those promises with a husky voice by your ear and his cock straining his pants, cause you'll know exactly what he means when he asks if, as your hero, he might have a reward from his helpless, darling little civilian that owes him their life.

Z = Zzz

He prefers to sleep through the night but he doesn't fall asleep too quickly after sex, although it's a different story if you wake up next to him and notice him humping his pillow or the sheets--or your leg, if he's situated just right. Sometimes he's awake and just didn't want to wake you, and sometimes he's asleep and just having a really good dream. Either way, you have full and expressed consent to hump him right back if you want to, or just push your pajama bottoms down and let your boyfriend sleepily push his cock inside to keep it warm. He'll try his best not to cum, but no promises, okay?

#joker persona 5 #joker p5 x reader #akira kurusu #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya #ren amamiya x reader #spicy writing #persona 5 #persona #smut alphabet #ellie writes #anons

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ichxbod · 2 years

Text

Queen of the vilebloods | Aemond and Daemon

Previous: Omen / next:

Tags: canon incest, description of wounds and scars, mention of sexual scenarios, insinuation of sex?, hint of dub-con (it is only thought), narrated in third person from Aemond's perspective.

Word count: 4600.

A/N: God, it's been a long time coming. Sorry for the wait, more than half of the draft was lost and I have a very bad memory so I didn't feel it looked as good as the first version.

Side note, this will slowly get more AU, in case that bothers anyone.

For any mistakes, sorry. English is not my first language

01: Tales of old, the night unfurls.

«Like a dark stain on his family doomed to chaos and chaos, Aemond knew that he had always been the most focused of them all, the least flawed part in sight.

His brother was an absolute bane. Lost in his mediocrity; faint-hearted. The idea that he, of all people, had to remind him why marrying his sister was the right way to go had driven a wedge between them from his own side of the bond, cracking it. Not only did Aegon not deserve the throne his mother wanted so badly to force down his throat, Aegon didn't even want it.

Aemond thought for the first time while he could still reason his uncle's actions that night, a man who had only been shaped by stories and gossip behind thin walls had taken shape into something to admire, the desire to emulate that in years to come would become a yearning to surpass.

Aemond was close to Daemon for far more reasons than he first through».

When the day Aemond lost his left eye happened, the resolution that came with the end of the night was far more full of advantage than misfortune.

The pain was cumbersome, crawling through his senses and making his skull seem to fracture in spasms of acute suffering. The inherent lack of one of his eyes was an anxiety that came and went in the pit of his stomach, the pulsing of his blood clutching his throat shut and building gagging; it was a dead spot, an empty socket and a tattered eyelid of flesh that they had had to pull together so that the damage would not be greater.

Even with all this, Aemond found himself with a feverish spirit burning beneath his flesh. The dragon was his, it had responded to him, an eye for it seemed a fair price to pay, it had to be a fair price to pay.

He would accurately recall that thought process as the night wore on and he secluded himself amidst the rough stone steps, the thought of Daemon's presence settling in his mind, the unique possibility of discovering what had been his irrepressible quest ever since he could roam the castle without safety. It was why, when he followed the man once he appeared in his field of view, with utter stupidity and recklessness, that Daemon's hiding behind one of the crosses and pulling him by the collar of his robe until he choked him slightly by the way he lifted him was hardly predictable, foolishly expected.

— I wonder why your mother allows you to wander, being unwell — Daemon says, he's smiling thinly in a gesture that doesn't reach his eyes. Aemond swallows the verbal vomit he can feel running in boiling anger, struggling to resist the urge to revolt, knowing that he will not succeed in freeing himself and will only be one more weight in a growing humiliation.

— I am not an invalid — he splutters, his mouth twitching in disgust at having to raise his head to look the other man in the face; Daemon does not seem perturbed at all.

— Perhaps not — his uncle reasons, examining the scandalous construction of his wound—. But that, Aemond. That surely requires you to rest.

The younger man is silent, not knowing what to add. Daemon doesn't really have anything more to say but the younger of the two can still feel the firm grip on his robes, treating him like the unruly offspring of some feline.

His uncle methodically searches his face for something, despite his growing anger and pent-up resentment at everything his mother has said, Aemond clutches at the pain that emerges from his face to keep himself still.

— I find it... Almost offensive — Daemon mutters, smiles a little even. Despite the sunken look in his eyes, he doesn't seem too saddened by the death of a woman who, in his mother's words, suffered through the whole process —. A Prince should not be a vassal appointed to such a vulgar task as spying and following.

— I am here of my own free will — Aemond responds immediately, the offence to his mother creeping under the older man's words making him squirm, not even surprised when he finds an even firmer grip —. I was just curious, to know where he would go before he left.

Daemon gives an appreciative murmur. He doesn't seem ready to let it go, and instead leans towards the young man, and looks over the place where both eyes should be; it doesn't seem morbid, something he will think of years later as another reason for the reluctant appreciation he has for the man's figure.

— Tell me, Aemond, how old are you? — Aemond grimaces, raising his head a little higher as his uncle rises to his full height again. The orange reflection of the lighting behind the man creates a shadow behind him —. You look old enough to have left the wet-nurse stories behind.

— I don't know what you're talking about — he cuts off immediately, wandering fear pushing against his throat.

— Because you haven't stopped looking at my neck, of course — Daemon continues matter-of-factly, smiling with a condescension that is sickening to him. Only at that statement does he realise that his own gaze is on the man's barely uncovered neck, and he immediately directs it to his shrewd eyes. he can feel the hot flush of embarrassment clinging to his cheeks.

— I think I'm still a bit young — he replies quickly in a heated manner, letting his embarrassment get the better of him —. How old was my sister Rhaenyra ten years ago?.

Before he can anticipate it, a choked groan escapes his throat as Daemon tugs at the collar of his robes until it gathers into a fist and pulls him in, choking him as his free hand holds him in a firm grip across the cheeks. He can feel Daemon's long fingers digging into the skin at the sides of his face as he pulls him close to his face.

He looks furious, nothing like the usual impish sneer, and, like a fear and strangeness at the speed of events, Aemond thinks - fear - for what he will do to him.

However, when Daemon opens his mouth to say something, he is interrupted by a noise coming from behind him, with some proximity. He lets Aemond go more calmly than he took it from the start, the mask of dull calmness returning to his face, a slight smile on his face.

— Take care of that — he says at last, pointing with a vague movement of his finger at the wound. Aemond can already see behind the man's back Ser Criston approaching them —. Worms are born in things like that overnight, nephew.

Once he was in his room, in the solitude of a place where his thoughts would echo loudly against the stone walls, Aemond would think that this encounter had marked the beginning of the twisted bond he and Daemon shared, one that would take too long for him to fully elucidate.

{…}

When the clarity of his illusions finally comes to him, it is by a chance he could never have imagined.

The catastrophe of that day is a horror passing in the background of his mind. The sight of Daemon chopping off that insolent man's head was the memory that stayed with him until Lucerys sickened his senses with the sickening memory of the incident with the pig, the ideas it brought to his tormented mind - the memory that he had never seen before.

But Aemond was adept at letting hatred, resentments and shortcomings fester in an unavailable part of his mind. So, with the euphoria that the memory of Vaemond Velaryon's head falling gracelessly and blood splattering near them, Aemond soaked in the euphoria at the image, a memory he could cherish for a while.

Even with it, a warning. Clear in the grandeur of its entirety as he stood ready to smash Lucerys' skull against the stone they walked upon until Daemon stood in the path between them.

It was something, perhaps the look, perhaps the very calmness of his image despite the implied threat that for a few seconds, Aemond was a young boy being held by the collar of his robes in an abandoned hallway. It was that which made him turn back and walk away.

Then, with the cumulus of all that night boiling against his senses, he finds something that was always there, something he never saw.

He is in a corridor woven on the way to Helaena's rooms, a silk curtain that was once red and by this time is green, the reflection of something shiny that his eye catches is what makes him look twice in that place and, more for the idea of someone hiding behind it is that he withdraws it suddenly, retreating at the sight of a door that was never there.

It must be a window - it was always a window - echoes in his mind and yet, even as his hope for that dream has faded over the years, he can't help but feel elated as he pulls the rusty knob, entering before he can consider the dangers.

It is a cramped room, smaller than any servant's and, in the centre, Aemond sees himself in a box that spans the vast majority of the wall. The sight of himself in motion pushes his heartbeat until it closes his throat. A dagger already rests in his hand at the thought of any danger.

A witch, if she is real'' The maid who had nursed him all his life had once said many years ago at his insistence on the subject, asking the woman about the taboo with which his mother treated anything of the sort. The maiden, sweet as she had always been, smiled looking him in the eye '' If you should find her, do not be afraid. I'm sure she'll be full of tricks.

Somehow, he found comfort in those words to approach the reflection, noticing then the glowing inscription on the reddish frame.

«I look at myself in the mirror that reflects you».

Before he could think of the possible dangers, Aemond dipped his toes into the reflection, feeling it like cold water as he sank into it.

Like an unreality out of one of the dreams he'd had, he found himself in a short corridor, the swift path his feet advanced in anticipation, the dreamed prize, the greatest longing of his years alive.

When he reached it, when he finally reached it the place was strange looking; the light that illuminated it was dull and reddish, reaching into the cornerless room behind the wide bars.

And there she was.

The woman looked the way he had always fantasised about her, the ecstasy of all his fantasies. Those unreadable shadows that had always accompanied his dreams and reveries. With that vague glimpse of her hair glowing in contrast against the flames of the fire, falling down her back as she sat there with the stylistically straight posture. There was something inherently impure about Aemond being able to see her like this, in her entirety, a sense of nakedness that prickled under his skin. The excitement bubbling inside his overheated blood, against his ever euphoric senses that he had tried so hard to undermine.

His eyes were covered, the strange mask interwoven with the headdress of his hair emulating what could only be the bizarre version of a crown. It was there that the light illuminated, leaving the rest of her face in shadow.

— Aemond Targaryen — he heard her for the first time, could feel her move, Aemond's feets moved and soon he was on the adjacent side of that secluded room, at the bars closest to the only exit she had; she followed the movement with her head, even though Aemond was sure she couldn't see him behind that piece of shining gold —. Prince Aemond.

— Lady — The prince responds, he can feel the ravenous desire burning in his senses to break through that grille, to push himself inside to be there. He had fantasised over the years about how he would act once he could hold her close, the innocence of his childhood prevailing in reveries more of admiration, the idea of just being able to look at her, the bastard hope of finding a love that was never given to him; those versions had morphed as he grew older, stained in the ink of pure vulgarity when in his deepest dreams that barrier no longer existed, he was within the confines of her isolation and there, with nowhere for her to go, she was his. His hands would clench into fists on the softness of her hips, he would tear with his teeth at the creamy expanse of her warm thighs and drink from her the pleasure his actions caused, he would thrust inside her when she was sated and fuck her with all the pent-up desire he had stored up for years.

— You've been insistent, prince — She says, bringing his mind back to the moment. She seems to hesitate for a moment, actually turning her covered eyes to the table in front of her, as if she might see or know of the open book in front of her before dismissing it, standing up, still not moving towards him, increasing his chaotic anxiety —. Very insistent to reach this empty place.

— Doesn't everyone who finds it have to show a little effort? — Aemond strains to keep his voice from betraying the confused anger he can feel, stinging beneath his chest.

She smiles, Aemond's lips open in silent exaltation at the free display of beauty, the ruddy lips an absolute provocation.

— No — she murmurs, cupping the skirts of her slightly translucent dress in her black hands, taking a couple of steps towards him —, No, prince. No one should be insistent about it. What must be given will be given; you will get what you need, not what you want.

— Daemon deserves it, then.

— Yes, he does — She immediately cuts off the outburst of his indignation, only making it grow —. He did, he does.

— Have I forced myself then into a place where I am not welcome? — he mumbles, can recognise in his own tone the threat of rising anger. The frantic thought of taking her by force is there, the idea of tearing down those damn bars and taking her out is less true to his ideals than he's always convinced himself it is.

— Tell me, prince, what is it that you want? — She moves a little further then, barely two metres from the fence. What did you want then, all those years ago —. There is nothing I can give you; there wasn't then, there isn't now, there won't be.

— I wished for you! — he replied in a tremulous voice, tapping his open palm on the perfectly preserved metal that divided them — Isn't that enough, I must want the council for a proper coup d'état against my own house?

— You wished the idea of me.

— And yet now, after so many years of searching it is here, in front of me, and I long for it even more than before.

They are both silent then, she still looks serene despite the storm that Aemond feels threatening under his skin. His altered breathing creates a slightly discordant sound with the ambience provided by the crackling of the wood burning inside the fire.

Aemond waits, his hand that had been holding one of the bars falls, sliding down the iron until it reaches the black stone knob, the reckless promise of an irresponsible act is thick in the air and whether for that or any other reason, she moves forward until she is finally close enough to stand face to face.

— Do you know what I am? — she asks. Aemond has had a vague idea of what he has formed from years of searching and overthinking, it is something on the tip of his tongue, but he denies —. Doesn't that frighten you?

— No — He answers quickly, sincere. Fear and caution for an implied threat shared in legends is made for men like Vicerys, driven by mental weakness, emotional overload —. Should it?

"Has Daemon done it?'' He echoes loudly though he does not say it, even though he is sure she knows the course of his mind.

— Come closer then, let me get to know the face of the only man I've ever let in.

He did not move, felt the quick construction of a confused grimace on his face. Despite the play of shadow and light in the poor illumination preventing him from seeing clearly anything other than his covered eyes, he thinks he knows that the corners of her mouth pull a little higher.

— You didn't deserve to come in here, prince — she repeats, Aemond is then much closer to the grille — It's not made for men like you are.... Nevertheless, I let you in.

Only then does she cut the distance that divides them, illuminating her whole face at last. There is an inherent feeling that can only remind him of him self from years ago, the child who would still stare at his reflection for hours, running the sickly expanse of the scar that stole part of his sight, analysing, stomping with growing hatred at that parasite that wanted to mourn over it, to cry. Leaning his weakness at that age on the sweet comments of the maid who nursed him, listening intently to Helaena's flattery when he slipped into her bed once they were older.

She is tainted, as Aemond himself is. There is a scar running across the corner of his mouth, pulling his upper lip slightly upwards. There are many more on his body, similar to the marks he knows her fingers leave. The deep black colour from his fingers to his wrists splits into branches that reach just beyond the elbow, stopping then at thin spikes.

— Why? — he asks, his throat dry.

She merely smiles.

One of her hands then reaches out through the gap in the bars, the cool touch of her fingers coming like an expected good. The smooth texture of his jaw is the first thing she seeks to feel. Aemond loses himself in the unreality of her face and the burning worldly fervour her touch provokes despite its simplicity, the sharp feel of her pointed nails outlining the taut line of his jaw, the long slender fingers running down his neck to encircle his side, creating a small soft circle with his thumb against Aemond's throat.

She then moves upwards, creating a smooth furrow until the same finger recreated the shape of his slightly parted lips, the doubt of whether she is staining him with that jet is immediately erased when the idea that this is the shade of her skin is realised. He feels the needy urge to close his eyes and enjoy the cool scent of her smooth skin.

He can feel the wetness lingering on her thumb as she pushes it lightly between his lips. There is a whole glowing smile as he barely grazes the digit with the tip of his tongue.

Aemond moved a little closer for something almost magnetic, the heart racing, the burning sensation rising in his chest and rising to his face, the rush of blood pooling to his lower belly at the sight, the ruddy lips, the smooth skin of her neck to his shoulders at the sight, as if the dress wasn't already insinuating. The inert response when he himself was on fire... He was ready to do it.

But she wouldn't let him.

She stopped him with her free hand, which was taking his that was already in The Lock. It wasn't a strong grip, even if he was sure she could do that. It was firm, definitely. Holding Aemond's hand between her own, waiting for him to let go before stroking his fingers through hers, letting go then.

That hand brushed against his chest, a limp touch that nevertheless stopped him from any further recklessness, leaving her to continue the tentative exploration. His senses intoxicated by that scent as if it were an opiate, a scent also laden with something in the distance that forces the growing desire to thrust his hips.

But his breath in search of more of that scent was cut off when she pulled her hand away, the stylised movements as she drew it towards her own body, outlining her own lips, letting him notice how the red colour ran slightly and stained her thumb before returning it to Aemond's mouth, who licked at once; it tasted of her, of her scent, of something impure, filthy, richly degenerate; there was still wet residue from her mouth, which he knew and didn't hold back from licking as she played a little, poking the tip of his tongue a little, tasting the pure essence of her mouth and that dead-looking skin, feeling the edge of her nail against the delicate muscle, thinking he heard a singsong laughter in the distance, not even seeing her but not knowing when he had let his eyelid close, when his breathing turned to muted, needy gasps.

His eye opened as he lost those cold fingers on his warm skin, his chest tightened in painful anxiety, his stomach churning, his pulse pounding in his throat, the taste of that fruit against his tongue as it licked his lips. His belly contracted in growing heat, painful throbbing in his crotch, tugs of desire to get him out of his clothes, an influx of unconnected images in which he forced himself into that room and could push her against an adjoining wall, yank up her skirts and fuck her fast and hard, in which he could shove himself so far down her throat he made her cry as he fucked her mouth, the need to pull viciously at that hair.

He pushed a little, his legs weak and his thighs aching with anticipation, the aching sensation against his insides with each pull, the desire for her, to have her there, in the unconsciousness of desire that had fermented over time, almost dead before it, at the mercy of what his base instincts wanted to get, her. Always her.

he looked again at the place where her eyes should be, the material of that mask made crown glowing in contrast to the flames coming from her side of that confinement. They made her look ethereal, unconnected to the past and so promising for the future...

They were so close.

The woman parted her lips as a mirrored response to Aemond's gesture, despite the obvious impediment, he believed they were both looking at each other within their own limitations. A lost touch as the lady ''looks'' at his lips and bites hers with a greedy smile, a gesture that rekindled that heat in his belly, discharges that moved from the veins down there, pulsing, needy, a new thrust, a little more hollow, hungry, airless gasps, not enough of the cold smell, the smell of her skin, the smell he so needed, the smell of her desire. Of her need against his.

She then directs her hand upwards, reaching for the side of his face and with it, brushes the rough leather of the patch covering his eye, moving it.

The broken atmosphere almost came as the sound of glass shattering against his ears. His hand moves quickly and, despite the fact that this is the first time he has touched her, he cannot enjoy it as he holds her by the wrist, slowing her down. She doesn't look disturbed, even so. His slender fingertips still caress the beginnings of his hair, her face tilted slightly to the side.

The request is implicit in the air and his body surrenders to it long before his mind does, dropping his arm to the side of his body. As a reward, there is a larger smile on the lady's face, one that reveals a quick glimpse of a row of sharp teeth.

She runs her fingers through the leather headband that disappears into his hair, picking up a couple of strands in the process until it returns to the patch. It is delicate, which Aemond is grateful for in a place deep in his mind; she removes it carefully, until it rests on the top of his forehead, exposing the scandalous aspect of his ruin.

She looks deeply pleased and it is this that gets the prince's attention, she carefully traces the sickly expanse of the scar, Aemond feels a slight tug of pain as it brushes the area of the socket, as it has always hurt.

It is almost an act of inertia as he takes her hand that has been resting on his chest and brings it to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of it.

The woman smiles, somewhat softly before her face turns slightly to the side, seeming to catch something before she slides the patch back into place.

— They're looking for you, something seems to be up — she murmurs, brushing her fingers where she can touch before curling them in on herself. Aemond barely restrains himself from moving forward in search of the lost contact — It's time for you to go.

— I won't — he replies, she doesn't seem bothered by his disobedience despite everything.

— It's something to do with your mother.

With that, Aemond comes violently out of his lethargy. Who he is and where he belongs seems to come back to his mind even as the place seems to be made to make him live for and by her.

He nods, stepping back at last, checking the state of the patch before taking another step away from the woman.

— I will return when the matter is resolved.

— Tomorrow — she contradicts him calmly —. When everything settles.

He emits a murmur to which she smiles. He has a vague idea that even if he tries to come back that night she won't let it go. It takes him a moment, due to the movement between the bars and the lightness of the fabric wearing one of the sleeves of her teal dress to fall past the line of morality, letting him get a glimpse of the smooth line of her breasts, nipples erect against the thin fabric.

He forces himself to step back and, by the time he turns to resume the way he came in, he is no longer in that place lost in time. He spins around in confusion as he finds himself back in that cramped room, and is confronted by the image of his full body in that reflective device.

He ignores the statement on the glowing frame, appreciating the sight of himself. His lips and the corner of his mouth stained with the ink that stained his lips red. He is looking for the mark of his fantasies before he even notices it and, when he notices you on the back of his hand he smiles, the thick black growing through his veins until it reaches his fingers, the ones tangled around his wrist are slightly luminous.

Once he has dragged the back of that hand away to wipe the colour from his mouth, he heads back to the reality that awaits him.

#house of the dragon imagines #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #Aemond one eye #Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x oc #Daemon Targaryen x reader #Aemond x Daemon #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #Aemond Targaryen imagine #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #fanfiction

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z3nitsusgf · 2 years

Text

cannonball

solider boy | reader

cw: alcohol, dirty talk(?) kinda, sloppy make out, solider boy makes you chug whiskey… yuck, not proofread

The motel isn’t glamorous, far from it. It’s got ugly yellow carpet from the 80s, stained in… god knows what. Everything is muted and painted dark tans. Even the TV in the corner is a little boxy thing that is more static than family feud. You sit on the edge of one of the loveseats, letting Ben stand between your knees.

You don’t know why you even told him you can’t get drunk, or why you asked for tips on how to feel tipsy again. But you’re starting to regret it with the way Solider Boy is hell-bent on getting you hammered.

He told you, “you’re just not doing it right. I can help you, if you want.” Looking at you with such an intense stare, you didn’t refuse.

Now you’re dealing with his “help”.

He cups the back of your head, fingers sowing through your hair, tilting it back so he can tower over you. His thighs cage you into the loveseat, thick corded muscle preventing you from moving out and away. Corralling you into the backrest, that stupid smirk on his mouth.

“Come on, open up.” He leers, holding the heavy bottle of Jack Daniels between his forefingers, waiting for your lips to slowly part.

He can see the fleshy pink of your tongue, bobbing and twitching along your palate. The ribs of your teeth, pearly white molars. You open up shyly, looking up at him through thick lashes and a sense of embarrassment. It’s oddly erotic to you.

“Good, good. Now—“ Ben lifts the thick caramel-colored bottle of whiskey in his hand. Pressing the lip of the bottle to your mouth, letting you feel the cool glass against your mouth.

“Drink up.” He’s slowly pours the alcohol into your open mouth, letting it pool on your tongue as you try not to choke on the taste. It’s bitter, smoky, and acetone-like. Your fingers blindly reach for him, slipping into his belt loops for support, tugging at his hips when he sloshes the bottle.

He’s chuckling, baritone smoothing over your brain as you gulp down the Kirkland sized bottle of whisky. His fingers smooth over your scalp, holding you tight so you don’t jerk away.

“There you go, fucking taking it like a champ aren’t ya?”

He hardly allows a breath, and in the back of your mind you get the feeling that this is what it must be like to let him fuck your mouth. It makes you clench your thighs, eyes fluttering as droplets of whisky spill from the corners and drip down your chin.

“Damn, you’re pretty easy. Opening your mouth for me like some hooker.”

You don’t like that you’re enjoying this as much as you are. Eyelashes fluttering at his words, grunting as you try and swallow the mouthfuls of whisky. Ben’s hand comes down to hold your jaw when you start to get squirmy, the alcohol sliding down your throat at a slow pace, thick like molasses.

You refrain from making any gagging noises, knowing he’ll just poke even more fun at you. You push at his abdomen, trying to tell him to let up. He only slightly pulls the bottle back to let you pant in a breath before he’s practically shoving the neck of the bottle between your lips.

“Ben-“

“Don’t pussy out now, sweetheart. You asked for help getting drunk, so keep chugging.”

You make a muffled noise, tugging at his belt loops, scraping your nails along the denim of his jeans. You’re having a hard time getting air in through your nose, trying not to choke. Your eyes water, lashes smearing with prickling tears.

Solider boy is looking at you with half-mooned eyes, his lips parted to mimic yours. It’s like he’s entranced with the way you gulp down each mouthful. His knees come to dig on each side of the cushion, encasing your thighs. His thumb slides down to caress at the expanse of your throat, feeling the way you swallow.

“Yeah, you like this don’t you.” He mumbles, lips curling up to sneer at you. You look up with such starry eyes, Ben has to bite his cheek to keep from moaning at the sight.

The bottle is nearly empty, you’re sure if you weren’t suped up than you’d need to get your stomach pumped. But you’re still not drunk, if anything you’re only slightly buzzed - which is more than you’d thought could happen.

When the last droplets hit your tongue, Ben drops the glass onto the yellowed carpet. He doesn’t stop for a beat, he doesn’t even ask if you’re okay. He just reaches for your face with big calloused palms and smashes his mouth onto yours.

You groan, feeling his teeth hit yours. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, tasting the smoky orange and spicy cinnamon. His scruff scratches your Cupid’s bow, tickling at your chin. When you open, he dives in. Lapping at the inside of your cheeks and against the roof of your mouth. He doesn’t care if it’s messy, he wants it to be. Spit swapping, tasting the hard liquor on your palate like it’s straight from the source.

He likes that you huff and whine when he nips your lip, running the tip of his tongue over your back molars, under and over and fucking everywhere. It makes you breathless, holding his biceps as he tilts your face to meet him. When he pulls away, webby silver strings connect the both of you. You look blissed out, lidded eyes and all.

Soldier boy laughs, “Goddamn, you kiss like a fucking pornstar.”

You twitch in his hands, still trying to inhale as much as you can. You’re unbelievably soaked, the warmth spreading throughout your tummy like embers on a fire.

He nudges you with his nose, “You drunk yet, or do I need to make you chug the other bottle?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “No! No, I’m- I’m good.”

He gives a hearty grin, settling down farther on top of you. He’s weighty and heavy against you, warm with the alcohol he drank earlier. Ben nuzzles his cheek against yours, uncharacteristically gentle.

“Ya know I could just fuck you till you’re cockdrunk, might work better than having you choke on another Jack Daniels.”

He’s completely serious, you know he is. And it makes you squirm, flushing with the promise. You tuck a lip between your teeth, looking up at him through thick lashes.

You know you’ll regret it in the morning, when you’re sore and throughly fucked out. But that’s the fun part.

“Okay,” you hum, “give it your best shot.”

#val.writes ❦#the boys.✮#solider boy x you #solider boy x reader #the boys x you #the boys x reader

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riversimmone · 7 months

Text

Reason to Breathe

Reason To Breathe

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

AU GaaSaku. The train stopped suddenly and she fell into his arms. Her panic had disappeared, only to be replaced by a far more pleasant sensation; and she was falling all over again.

Notes:

This one-shot is a result of a dare after a conversation a while back about how much I love the pairing, and this idea came from a song, surprise, surprise. It's Longer by Delta Goodrem. God, I love Delta's music – old and new. :) Anyway, I know the Tokyo Rails are a lot busier than I've indicated here. But for the purposes of this fic, it's only crazy in the morning (during the normal rush hour). Rated T. I hope you all enjoy. :)

There was nothing like doing something she hated only to find a reason to love it. The contradictory sentiments were like a breath of fresh air, and Kami knew, she needed something to shake up the funk she'd been in since moving to Tokyo. City streets, neon lights… the night before her first day at work was like any other. She arrived at her new apartment, annoyed at the blonde who'd almost driven them into a ditch on the highway. Ino Yamanaka was a hell cat behind the wheel, and had no regrets, the under worked, over paid bitch.

This was how Sakura Haruno had found herself forced to take the train.

There was something to be said for stepping outside of her comfort zone – when it went bad, she could strangle that blonde bimbo calling herself her best friend, guilt free. She was already imagining what it would feel like to have her hands locking around Ino's throat and squeezing.

And what was it exactly that she'd found herself loving? That first day on the subway, and the months that followed. She'd imagined the boredom of the railway would induce a stupor and on her first day, she'd either be hyperventilating or asleep when her station drew alongside the locomotive. Sakura imagined that once she'd woken up (or calmed down), nothing and no-one could make her get back on that train.

Ino was always telling her she had no imagination.

The first day started out as expected (due mostly to her preconceptions), but it did get better... and in the most delicious way possible – in the form of an "on sight" crush. She didn't know how else to describe the reaction she'd had to him. But, first things first, her first impression of the underground train station had been a bad one. And to make matters worse, the idea of taking the subway had always made her want to gag. It wasn't like there was smog or the stench of human waste – no, the subway of Greater Japan was immaculate and blah, blah, blah… no, the sensation of wanting to heave up her breakfast came from knowing she would be stuck in rush hour and forced to stand close to other people. It made her as uncomfortable as having to avoid eye contact with the multitude of people who would stare at her.

The dark haired people milling about her blended right in, but she didn't; Kami knew why she just had to have natural pink hair. Sakura had dyed it, crimped it, cut it, and curled it so many times that her doctor told her not to do it anymore. She'd spent her whole life hiding from the abnormality that was her.

'One more time and you'll be poisoning yourself, at least more than you already have.'

Wishing she was still living in Konoha (where the easiest way to get around didn't involve bunching up in the scorching heat and pretending she wasn't inhaling someone else's body odour), Sakura stared at the ticket vending machine; the stupid thing wouldn't accept her ¥2,000 bill. Glaring wouldn't change anything, no matter how much venom she put into it. She'd never taken the train before today, so just decided on a Tokyo Metro One-Day Pass for this one time; it couldn't hurt, right? She'd only be taking the train twice – to and from work – so it was probably a waste, but right now, she didn't care.

Sulkily retrieving her ticket, Sakura made her way through the Fare Gate, waited at the platform, and let out a disgruntled sigh at the sight of the incoming Tokyo Metro ‒ this was the Marunouchi Line. She hated it already. But she'd started a new job that required an earlier arrival time – the rapid transit of the underground subway was her only option other than waking up at two o'clock in the morning and walking for hours.

The morning rush hour was killing her – the women-only car she was told she could take, was completely full. Sakura had the choice between waiting for the next train (that would make her late to work) and boarding one of the normal cars. Since there were other women in said cars, she felt comfortable enough to risk it this one time.

But the staring was grating on her nerves. Most of the passengers were men in suits, and she found it incredibly intimidating – she was wearing her uniform already, a dark blue vest over her white blouse and knee length pleated skirt. She felt self-conscious, since the only other women in the car were dressed more formally (pants, whatever – it was smart and unlike her clothes, fit like a glove). She was out of sorts in this kind of environment.

At the first stop, when the doors opened, she realised she was going to have to stand up. The woman waddling toward her was the epitome of what Sakura disliked – someone or something she felt obligated to think of over herself. But she stood, stepped aside, and offered her seat. It was the proper thing to do after all. Shifting away from the courtesy seat, Sakura responded to the grateful "thank-you" with a "you're welcome" from the heavily pregnant woman. She tried to weave her way through the mass of bodies and away from the end of the car; she was instead immediately blocked by the arrival of more men in suits. She felt stifled, panic rising up in her chest, and quickly closed her eyes.

'Focus, Sakura – it's just a train ride. No-one here is going to rub themselves up against you or leer inappropriately.'

She hated crowds.

The train jerked, and she snapped her eyes open as it moved. One of the men who'd stepped in front of her was now staring at her. He wasn't leering, but there was a sort of sympathy in his eyes – the kindness in the soft green colour drew her attention first. Then her eyes flickered upwards and she realised the man had short, dark red hair. He stood out as much as she did, it would seem, but no-one was staring at him.

She was lost for words, a blush appearing on her cheeks as he continued to stare at her. While the other passengers gawked at her hair or occasionally spared her a curious glance, his eyes were set firmly on hers.

'Oh god, oh Kami…'

Time seemed to stand still and she was captivated. Sakura flagrantly stared back at him, her hand moving to the metal pole he was clinging to as she moved instinctively closer to him. He held tightly to said pole, barely moving as the train came to a stop. It was another station – Sakura hadn't realised it, but she'd been staring at this mystery man for almost twenty minutes – how many times had they stopped and then started again?

Blush lined her cheeks at this realisation, but she didn't look away; she couldn't. The expression on his face was guarded, so she wasn't sure if this man was checking her out or just rude. Finally opening her mouth to say something, she was cut off by the sudden motion of the train; she stumbled forward and his free hand came up to stop her fall. He caught her, his arm slinging around her shoulder; she inhaled deeply, his very masculine scent making her tremble.

"Th-thanks…" She muttered, pulling away from him.

She decided to interpret this as a sign to stop talking – etiquette on board subway trains in Japan demanded they didn't anyway – she'd read it in a book. But it was disappointing; she wanted to know his name, among other things.

He smiled at her – it was brilliant, the way it lit up his face and seemed to highlight a light shade of pink along his cheeks. She wasn't the only one so taken, it seemed. Sakura smiled back, trying to ease the nervousness flitting about her stomach; the butterflies had become acrobats instantly, doing things she'd never thought possible. It seemed to show on her face because the red head was smirking now; his free hand moved from her shoulder to her elbow and clung tightly. He wasn't making some sleazy move on her, but his face was smug nonetheless.

Arrogant might be a better word.

They continued to stare at each other, though Sakura tried desperately to look away from him. The last thing she needed was to be near another man that took pleasure in her discomfort. She inhaled deeply, keeping the station number of every stop in her peripherals, and making no move to relieve herself of this man's grip. His hand felt oddly comforting against her bare skin (the sleeves of her blouse didn't quite make it to her elbows), and he was at least distracting her from her panic of being so surrounded.

The ride to the Shinjuku-Sanchōme Station came too soon, and she reluctantly moved toward the exit. She didn't realise at first, lost in her reverie, that the red haired man was following her. She'd never been so taken by someone like this before, and she supposed his good looks helped. But it also made her wary. She looked back after disembarking, only to find him barely a foot away from her, before turning to face him.

"I'm Gaara," he said, his voice husky and making her tremble.

"S-Sakura," she stammered and mentally slapped herself.

His head jerked to the side suddenly and something must have caught his attention – she didn't look, wanting him to keep talking. But Gaara was already moving away.

"See you later," he said, and she missed the strained hope in his voice.

Sakura nodded. "Yeah."

The rest of the day went by slowly, like Kami was trying to torture her. Her new job entailed data entry as well as organising – the latter would broaden to company fundraisers and the such after she passed the one month mark of working here. But despite the tedium, Sakura didn't mind it – sorting things into their proper place was like second nature to her anyway. She wondered if Gaara had been heading to work, despite the sleek business suit he'd been wearing. It was obvious, but for all she knew, he'd been heading to a funeral, or some early morning… function… or whatever.

"Blaargh!" She pulled a face at the so-called cuisine when lunch rolled around. It was slop: nothing more and nothing less. It would be worth it to spend most of her lunch time looking for a decent food court outside of the cafeteria at work.

And again, her thoughts drifted to Gaara.

"I think I'm getting obsessed."

She needed to stop these thoughts – chances were that she'd never see Gaara again. That was a depressing commentary and worse than her musing on what he was doing and thinking ‒ and whether or not he was thinking about her. Ino was going to make fun of her for it, and the pinkette had no-one else to confide in, so she steeled herself for the inevitable questions and judgements as she clocked out. The walk back to the station was numbing, and she didn't realise at first, as she moved toward the women-only car, that Gaara was there again.

His hand shot out, grabbing her elbow again; she let out a small yelp as he steered her away from the car he wasn't allowed in. She spun with Gaara's rough pull and realised then that he had started to tug her down into a seat. She made a small hiccupping sound on contact with the seat and he chuckled.

For a moment, she didn't know what to say or do, but then her anger took over.

"There was no need for that," she snapped, pointing a finger in his face.

"I disagree," he waved her hand away, clearly enjoying himself. "I wouldn't have had anyone to talk to if you'd made it into the women-only car."

"You're not supposed to be talking," she reminded him, pointing up at the sign above her head ‒ an ever present reminder of what was referred to as subway manners.

He smirked. "That's only for your phone, princess." She went red and he chuckled. "You're new to public transport."

She nodded, even though it hadn't sounded like a question, and then lowered her head in embarrassment. But he hadn't talked to her this morning – and come to think of it, none of the other passengers had said a word either.

"They're so boring," he said, when she brought it up. "And I'm fascinating."

She groaned. "Are you always this obnoxious?"

"No."

"Really?" Somehow she doubted that.

That smirk was still on his face. "I'm worse."

"Oh, so you don't normally talk to random strangers?"

"I do not," he agreed softly. "I'm not really a people person."

The cheek was gone from his voice suddenly, and Sakura decided this was the perfect opportunity to get some serious answers out of him.

"So, you ride the Tokyo Metro often?"

Gaara let out a soft chuckle. "No, not really."

"Oh?"

"I don't like public transport."

She smiled. "Me neither."

"What about you?" He asked. "You come here often?"

That made her blush, and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "No, but I'm stuck here anyway."

And the next thing she knew, he was prying things out of her – the first of which was what she did for a living.

"You're a sorter?"

She frowned at the smirk on his face. "No," she snapped. "I organise – there's a difference."

"Oh, I see."

Sakura just shook her head in frustration at the cheek in his voice, glancing toward the windows before settling on the red head again. He lost the cheek as he told her about himself.

Gaara had just arrived in Tokyo as well, and would only be here for three months, looking after some subsidiary in his father's business – he refused to elaborate. Sakura told him about having to move to Tokyo after a bad breakup; she'd let her best friend tag along, but the woman was grating on her nerves. The pinkette wanted to go to work, make friends, and come home to a clean apartment. The blonde wanted to go out, party, do drugs and drink past her limit, then come home and make a mess of the lounge room with some random guy she'd found at a night club.

Before Sakura knew it, she'd been riding the train to and from work for two and a half months. It was nearing Gaara's return to Suna and despite her smiles and jokes, the thought of him leaving was upsetting her. Another week rolled by and he finally noticed the hesitance in her smile.

"I'm going to have to keep you, you know," he said, sounding serious.

It made her smile and she stole a look at him as they walked out of the underground station. It was dark, but the streets were lit, and Gaara stopped at the top of the escalators, just short of the door leading outside.

"Really?"

He nodded. Gaara pushed her gently, and caged her between his body and the wall behind her. His eyes were calculating, thoughtful and minutely wary. He was considering doing or saying something – a scary something perhaps. His façade of controlled emotions had become a transparent mask to her since their first meeting. He kept his guard up by default because it was the only way he'd survived in the ruthless world of business his father had introduced him to from a young age. It was apparently also why he had so few friends. He was considered quite ruthless himself.

Finally, Gaara seemed to come to a decision. "Can I kiss you?"

Sakura nodded silently, not hesitating; she'd wanted him to the moment they'd met. Gaara licked his lips and lowered his mouth to hers. It was chaste, which was fine and all, but she wanted more. So she drew her tongue across his mouth, making them both tremble, before he obliged her. Pushed up against cold hard concrete, Sakura was suddenly burning. Her arms encircled his neck and he growled softly into her mouth, pressing into her.

They weren't lovers, they weren't even dating, but she felt like they were. She'd never had such a strong connection with anyone before, male or female. This was what her mother had told her about growing up, what all those fairy-tales had had her dreaming about. And she didn't want to let it get away: not now, not ever.

Gaara was the one to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against hers as he struggled for breath. His face was flushed and she felt excited at the way she was making him feel. Sakura took a moment also, but it was getting late, and they both knew this wasn't the end after all.

"See you tomorrow?" She asked, still slightly breathless.

He gave her a playful smile. "I'll be there."

Sakura walked away, glancing back as she always did, to see him doing the same. Tomorrow they'd do this all over again, and she knew that somehow, things would work out. After all, he'd said he would be there. The next morning, she was happier than she'd been in years, humming as she took a rare seat, looking forward to the next train stop, where the red head would emerge from. She sat up straight as the train pulled into the stop, her eyes instinctively searching for Gaara.

He wasn't there.

– Reason to Breathe –

Sakura had no idea what'd gone wrong. He'd seemed so sincere, like he really was looking forward to seeing her again. He had another week before he was expected back in Suna, so why would he just flake like that? She couldn't understand it.

Ino told her to stop being a drama queen. "Men do that sweetie – don't take it personally. Besides, if he really is as good looking as you say he is, he's probably married, and with like a dozen mistresses."

But the blonde didn't know him, she'd never met him; and despite the alarming level of arseholes out there, not all men were flakes! At least, not so soon after meeting a woman – sure, they'd kissed, but they hadn't had sex, which was the only thing the real lowlifes stuck around for after all. It made no sense.

This left a gut wrenching ache in her heart and she couldn't stop the onslaught of tears. She felt so stupid, so pathetic; why was this happening?

Once she'd calmed down, Sakura decided: she ignored Ino's disgusted comments and refused to go out clubbing to forget Gaara like the blonde "suggested". She went to work, taking the same route, the same time, and hoping against hope that the red head would appear after all, with some reasonable excuse. Embarrassed by her own fears, she waited past the point in which Gaara had said he'd be heading back to Suna before trying to think about how she'd track him down.

What did she know about him? He was from Suna, was the same age as her – twenty-two – and his mother was some kind of philanthropist. He was the youngest of three – not much help there – and the only one of them working in the family business – even less help. Sakura chewed on the end of her pencil as she tried to remember more. She was sitting at the desk in her bedroom, wearing only a pair of boy-shorts and small tank top; completing the ensemble was her fluffy purple slippers. She didn't own lingerie, much to Ino's chagrin.

She finished writing out the list and turned on her laptop – if she was going to find him, it wasn't by door knocking or going back to the train station. No matter what his reasons were, it was clear he wouldn't be going back there now. She needed a new place to look. The problem was, she only knew his given name. She searched the business tycoons in Suna, but none of them had a red haired son. Then she remembered his mother and added "philanthropist" to the advanced search.

Suna had a reputation for its seedy underground – and corrupted officials – so what were the chances that there were many wives of entrepreneurs that spent their time giving instead of taking?

Apparently, there were four.

The first one that came up was actually a widow and had only daughters –strike her off the list. The second had twelve children, something like fifty grandchildren, and looked like a harridan with boils.

'Eew.'

The third looked a little better; she had three children, her husband was a stock broker. It looked promising.

"Asuka Hashimoto."

Sakura murmured the name a few times. It sounded strange – why did it sound strange? The woman fitted the bill, but somehow she doubted Gaara's mother had been married three times. She settled on the last one – Karura Sabaku – the name rolling off her tongue easy. She followed the links until she found what she was looking for: a family picture taken at some official reception that couldn't be more than two years old. And there he was, looking out of sorts, even though he was looking straight at the camera. He wasn't smiling, but the sight of him all dressed up got Sakura's heart beating faster, and she scanned the comments, made by some reporter. She sounded like a fan too, which made Sakura wonder: was Gaara more popular than he realised? During their conversations, he'd sounded like a lost child when talking about his social life.

She gazed for a moment, before shaking herself of these thoughts.

Gaara was listed, which made it easier – he probably kept that number for emergencies and such. She couldn't imagine him giving it out on a whim.

Sakura spent twenty minutes just staring down at her phone after she'd punched in the number. Now that she was here, she was terrified ‒ what if he'd decided she was just a stupid little girl and had moved on? She felt like some overbearing fan girl who wanted to know why he didn't respond to her last three hundred emails.

'God damn it.'

She needed to get a grip, buck up, and just press that freaking button! She did it before any more pessimistic thoughts could take her over and was relieved when it started to ring. But good Kami he was taking his sweet time in answering. The click on the other end almost unhinged Sakura, and she inhaled sharply at the sound of a feminine voice.

"You've reached Gaara Sabaku's phone: start talking or I'm hanging up."

A slight cheek in her voice reminded Sakura of Gaara, somehow. But she struggled to speak, at a loss for what to say – she was expecting Gaara, not some random girl.

"Who is this?" The woman asked, now slightly irritated.

"My name is Sakura Haruno," Sakura managed, with great difficulty. Who was this woman that had answered Gaara's phone?

"Really?"

"Why is that so surprising?" Really, who was this woman?

"No reason – I'm just calculating how much money Kankuro owes me."

Huh?

"Can I talk to Gaara?"

"Sorry, no can do."

"W-why?"

The woman hesitated – Sakura could hear some whispering in the background and a shuffling that sounded like she was moving the phone from one ear to the other. Finally, the woman on the other end of this conversation gave her an answer:

"He's in a coma."

– Reason to Breathe –

'She shouldn't have told me that on the phone.'

Sakura had spent the ride to the hospital a jittery mess. Not only was she nervous to meet the woman who claimed to be Gaara's big sister, but she was terrified of seeing Gaara. A part of her hoped this was some elaborate prank, while the rest of her knew better: there was no faking the concern in Temari's voice during that thirty minute conversation. The woman really knew how to talk – she'd give Ino a run for her money, that was for sure.

She almost didn't leave the back of the taxi, only depositing the yen in the man's hand after he'd gotten irate at her. She ignored his continuing scowls and slammed the door shut, not caring that she'd been rude. She found the right room and signed in the visitor's book before knocking on the door. It opened almost immediately by some random nurse who spared her a glance (her eyes went to her hair) before moving on. Sakura peered into the room.

"Sakura?" The woman called Temari waved Sakura over, and the pinkette entered quickly. She was still apprehensive, but her concern for Gaara took precedence. He looked like death warmed up.

"The doctors say he could wake up at any time," Temari said soothingly, as Sakura took the offered chair next to the bed; the blonde's hand went to her shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"What happened?"

"After he left the station, he was mugged and left for dead," Temari said.

"Right after?"

"You saw him leave okay, right?"

Sakura nodded.

"I'm sorry," Temari said. "I should've tried to find you, but‒"

"You don't have to explain," Sakura interrupted. "We're strangers."

She gripped the pleats of her skirt tightly as she struggled not to cry, while unable to tear her eyes away from the unconscious red head. He looked like he was sleeping, except for the fact that he was hooked up to a bunch of monitors. She'd almost gone into medicine, so she knew the chances of him waking up got worse the longer he was unconscious. It was cruel, that she'd worried so thoroughly over him only to find him in this state. She'd prefer if he'd just decided she wasn't worth it. At least he wouldn't be in the hospital.

Sakura was a mess, and it showed, with or without the tears. She looked over at Temari as the woman moved to sit on the bed and faced her. The blonde had the same sympathetic look Gaara had given her that first day on the train, and before she could stop herself, Sakura let out an involuntary sob. Temari embraced her as she cried. It was so crazy, but she just let herself go, not caring that she barely knew Gaara, and that she'd only just met his sister.

But eventually, Temari's soothing words calmed her and Sakura pulled away. The older woman fetched a tissue from the other side of the hospital bed and handed it to her.

"God I'm so stupid." Sakura dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. "It's pathetic; I mean, I don't even know him, not really."

"It's not stupid, or pathetic," Temari assured her. "Just strange; I knew Gaara had a thing for you – the way he'd go on about you was proof enough. It's just nice to know it wasn't only one way."

"He's going to wake up," Sakura said quickly. "He has to."

"That's what I keep telling myself."

Sakura's response was interrupted when the door to the room opened (weird, she didn't remember closing it) and the guy standing in the threshold gave her the strangest look.

"Kankuro," Temari said. "This is Sakura. Sakura, this is Kankuro, my other brother."

Sakura greeted him politely, but he just gaped at her.

"Kankuro," Temari said warningly.

He shut his mouth. "Uh, I was just surprised." He frowned at his sister. "I thought she wasn't real."

"You thought Gaara was making her up!" Temari snapped.

Sakura ignored the siblings, shifting closer to the bed. "Gaara," she whispered. "Please wake up." She licked her lips, debating on whether or not to touch him. She'd heard that in even in comas, people could still hear you.

'What about touch?'

So she took his hand, interlocking their fingers and reaching out with her free hand to caress the weird kanji on his forehead, before shifting to move some strands of hair out of his eyes. Sakura didn't notice that Temari and Kankuro had stopped arguing to see what she was doing. She didn't hear them leave quietly, and completely forgot that they'd been there in the first place. She climbed onto the bed and hovered over him, sitting next to him; Gaara didn't respond of course, but she was watching for it anyway.

"Don't you dare," she said forcefully. "I haven't come looking for you just to watch you die."

When she'd told her mother about Gaara, the woman was ecstatic – she had been harping on at her for about four years, wanting grandchildren out of her. But it was the fairy-tales from her childhood that made Sakura bend over and kiss him softly: her own lips quivering slightly at the warmth of his skin. He wasn't cold to the touch, like she'd worried he would be.

Nothing happened.

Sighing deeply, Sakura attempted to get comfortable, not caring that when his nurse came back in, she would be in for a rude awakening. As she drifted off, exhausted from the last few days of worrying herself sick, she felt Gaara move. He shifted under her, the croaky sound of him saying her name bringing a smile to her lips. He was finally awake.

An hour later, Temari and Kankuro returned, armed with caffeine, fast food and a basket full of goodies, intent on an in-room picnic. But when they saw Sakura tucked up in the hospital bed, her arm strapped over Gaara, and her face nuzzled in his chest, they couldn't bring themselves to disturb her.

Neither of them noticed that the pale green eyes of their little brother watched their exit. Gaara had fallen asleep after waking up with Sakura getting comfortable on top of him; he'd woken up several times in the middle of the night to find the strangely intriguing pink haired girl he'd been dreaming about still sleeping with him. He tucked her in closer to his side and smiled.

It was worth getting mugged and almost dying to wake up like this. This was heaven to him.

X X X

#gaasaku #gaara x sakura #fanfiction #my ao3 #All images are not mine

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etherealzx · 1 year

Note

Aaand it's me part 2 ahaha

Okayokay so maybe an nsfw for la squadra where the reader just keeps teasing them all day, and so when they get home y'know, a classic ajsjsj (and I would love if reader and the la squadra members are already in an eatabilished relationship by the way) thank you so so much :)

i'm living for the la squadra thirst 😍 i'm thirsty for all of them

also sorry that some of these are longer than others oops

Teasing Them (La Squadra x Fem!Reader)NSFW!

warnings: nsfw and sexual content below the cut!

☆ Risotto ☆

You had been getting on his last nerve all day. Even despite his calm and collected demeanor, you could tell he was starting to get annoyed

All day while the two of you had been out running errands, you had been teasing him. You had been doing everything you could to get him worked up, rubbing circles in his thigh, bending down to pick things up in front of him, and making suggestive comments

He's not stupid, he knew exactly what you were trying to do. Right now he may be acting nonchalant, but he had your whole punishment planned out for when you got home

As soon as you walked in the door of the base and shut it behind you, he grabbed your throat and slammed you against the door

"You've been teasing me all day, puttana. Don't think I didn't notice. I'm gonna give you exactly what you've been begging for all day. On your knees, now." He growled, making the heat pool between your legs

He fucks your face hard, with the force of all the pent up aggression that had been building up all day

He loves to see your tears rolling down your cheeks and hear you gagging on his cock. To him, it's the perfect punishment for teasing him all day

☆ Prosciutto ☆

You were driving him insane. All he wanted was for you to be patient while he tried to get some work done, and you couldn't even do that.

He had been sitting at his desk in his office, trying to work on some paperwork for Risotto, until you decided to come in and interrupt

Normally he didn't mind if you sat in the room quietly while he worked. He actually enjoyed the company. But today was different. You had walked in the office wearing some very skimpy lounge shorts, trying to distract him

You had been leaning all over his desk and giving him those puppy-dog eyes, and although he usually found the sight adorable, right now it was getting on his nerves. He had very important work to do!

"Tesoro, what have I told you about bothering me while I'm working?" he says gently, yet sternly.

"Babyyyyy, can't you just take a break real quick?" You whine, making him even more irritated

"On your knees. Now." He growls, pointing underneath his desk. You quickly follow his instructions

"Damn slut. Can't even wait for me to be done with my work. Now you're gonna stay down there with my cock in your mouth until I'm finished." He spat while he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his already hard cock

He warns you not to touch yourself while you suck him off either, or else you're really gonna get punished

He keeps you down there for at least an hour before he's done

He's a man of his word, and you learn that pretty quickly

☆ Formaggio ☆

The two of you were on a mission together, hunting down a stand user from a rival gang

Since you had been spying on this person, it was critical that you stay quiet and not be seen

You knew the mission was serious, but your boyfriend just looked so good today. I mean he always looked good, but today there was just something different

You couldn't help yourself from touching him any chance you got. Grabbing onto his arm, climbing into his lap, and running your hands all over his chest

"Babe, what's gotten into you today?" He asked when you gave a particularly intimate kiss to his neck

Normally he would love you acting like this, but right now just wasn't the time. You two were on important business, it was no time to be messing around. Not to mention, the two of you had already been warned by Risotto about being too distracted when you went on missions together.

"y/n, baby, I love you but this is gonna have to wait till later. We could seriously get killed if we're not careful here." He said sternly.

You knew he was right but you still couldn't help yourself, continuing your comments and touches

You could tell he was getting irritated

"Babe, I told you to wait. This is important," He said, grabbing your wrist tightly.

He was getting so annoyed because you were really turning him on. He wanted to finish the mission successfully and make it back with a good report to his capo, and you were making it so hard for him

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore and snapped

His grip on your wrist tightened, and he dragged you into an alleyway

"You wanna act like a slut? Then you'll get treated like one." He picks you up and slams your back against the brick wall

He moves your panties to the side, and fucks you hard, taking out all of the day's frustrations out on you.

"I better not hear a single peep out of you." He growls, slapping his hand over your mouth to silence your pitiful moans and whimpers while he fucks you

☆ Ghiaccio ☆

He hated when you got all needy like this

Well, he secretly liked it, but it got on his nerves when you acted like this around the other la squadra members

You had all been in the main lounge-area of the base, watching a movie together

You were, of course, sitting with your boyfriend, Ghiaccio. The two of you had one of the small couches to yourself, and were cuddled up under a blanket as you watched the movie

However, you weren't really interested in the movie. You were much more interested in your blue-haired boyfriend sitting next to you

He was watching the movie intently, clearly interested in the plot

You decided it might be fun to tease him a little bit

You started to rub on his thigh with your hand under the blanket, moving teasingly close to his dick

He turned to you and angrily whispered "What the fuck are you doing, troia?"

You played dumb, cocking your head sideways and saying "Hm? What do you mean?"

This pissed him off worse. "You know what you're doing. Quit." He spat

You could feel his dick already getting hard in his pants, which fired you up even more

His face was turning bright red, and his brow was furrowed in frustration

"I'm going to my room, your ass better meet me in there in less than 5 minutes." He growled, excusing himself from the others and going to his room

You waited a few minutes to follow him, not wanting to raise suspicion from the others

Once you get inside the room, he slams the door shut, pressing you against the doorframe

He grabs you by the wrist and throws you down on his bed

"You wanna act like a slut? Fine. You're gonna get used like one." He hissed. He grabs your pants and rips them right off of you, along with your underwear

Normally he would take time to prepare you, but right now all he can focus on is punishing you. How dare you try to embarrass him in front of the others like that???

He shoves his cock in you forcefully, completely using you to take out his frustrations, yelling insults in your face as he fucks you

☆ Illuso ☆

You had been clinging onto him all day, and he normally found it kind of cute, but today it was driving him nuts

He was already aggravated by a mission from the day before that went horribly. He had let his target get away, and failed to kill them like Risotto had ordered. He was furious at himself for making such a major mistake.

You had been trying your hardest to cheer him up, clinging to his side and giving him words of encouragement

Unbeknownst to you, however, this was only making his frustrations grow. He hated how you were all over him, trying to comfort him like he was a child.

He's definitely the type to want alone time when he's angry. He has to take time to sulk by himself in the mirror world and process his emotions.

So when you just won't leave him alone, it makes him angry. He feels like you're feeling pity towards him, and that's the last thing he wants

"Illuso, baby, why don't I make you some tea? You've had a rough day and--" You were cut off mid-sentence by him standing up abruptly and grabbing you by the wrist

"Y/n, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. But please stop treating me like a child. I'm perfectly capable of handing this myself." He growled, making you tremble in fear

"I'm sorry, Illuso," you whimper, "I just wanna make you feel good after yesterday..."

"If you really wanna make me feel better," He says, "Then get on your knees and get to work." He has the most shit-eating, cocky smirk on his face while he says it

Fucks your face with the force of all of his built up anger

Cusses under his breath while he uses your throat, hands in your hair

Loves to see your tears and drool running down your face

It really does help him blow off some steam. Maybe he should use you like this more often!

☆ Melone ☆

Honestly, it takes a lot for you to make Melone angry or upset with you. He worships the very ground you walk on, and thinks you can do no wrong

However this particular night, you were making him insanely jealous, and in turn, angry as hell

Risotto had decided to have a little party at the base for team bonding, and to celebrate another successful mission

You had been having fun, having a few a lot of drinks and talking with your teammates

This isn't how Melone saw it though, as he sat on the couch and watched you. He saw it as you flirting with them, and them trying to get in your pants. He knows how men can be, and his teammates are no exception.

He couldn't stand it. The way you were leaning into them as you talked, smiling innocently and laughing at their stupid jokes. What the hell was so funny? Why were you having such a good time with them? (Granted, he also had a bit too much to drink, which was making him angrier and much more possessive than usual)

He got up off the leather couch, making his way over to you. He grabbed you by your wrist without a word, guiding you towards the bathroom.

He turned to his confused teammates before saying "Please excuse us for just a moment." In a snarky tone

"Melone? What's gotten into yo-" The bathroom door had barely shut behind the two of you and his lips were already slammed into yours

"Shut up. I see how you laugh with them. They all just want to get in your pants, can't you see that? They don't love you like I do," He snarled, making his way down to your neck and biting down hard

You yelped in surprise at the feeling. "What are you doing??"

"Im leaving my mark on you. I want them to know who you belong to," He growled, continuing to attack your neck

You'd be lying if you said you didn't find it extremely hot when he was jealous and angry like this

He slides your skirt down your legs, thrusting his hand down into your panties. He rubbed slow circles around your clit, making you moan in pleasure. You quickly tried to silence yourself to prevent the others from hearing

"Let it out, dolcezza. Let them know you're all mine. I want them to know exacltly what I'm doing to you in here."

He took his hand out and pulled your panties down around your ankles. He took out his hard cock and lined it up with your entrance, slamming into you, making you howl in pleasure as he fucks you senseless against the bathroom door

You know that all your teammates can hear everything, but in this moment, you can't even be bothered to care

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marinerainbow · 6 months

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//Crying at "between the man who writes his checks and the woman who lets him touch her boobs his hands are tied" 😆

Does she...have...? Idk how anthro toon relationship dynamics work in this world, the more I think about it the stranger it becomes 😂

Shiny has the absaloute leverage over him.

Greasy: No! Olvidalo! I won't do it!

Shiny: Ohhhh baby, pleeease?

Greasy: gulps But Mi Amor, the only thing I have left to lose is my dignity!

Shiny: Then what are you worried about Green Bean? backs him against a wall Come ooon Tiger, I'll let you play later. scratches nails under his chin.

Greasy: cracks ALRIGHT I GIVE IN!

He does whatever embarrassing or stupid thing is asked of him for the mere prospect that she might pepper his face wigt lipstick kisses.

SHINY WOULD ABSOLUTELY TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT! She knows Greasy's weakness too well 😅😆😅😆

Hm... Well, the only canon female weasel from the comics does have boobs (I'm sorry I just love that word XD it's just funny to me to say). But Winnie Weasel is also more humanoid than any other weasel in the WFRR universe... Which is a nice way of saying that she looks like a furry joined the animation team and this was his way of coping with his inner turmoil in a society where suxuality was still hush-hush and everything was wrong unless it was hetero-vanilla.

Who would have thought that giving a weasel long limbs and batfish lips would have instantly turned her into a disgrace.

But Shiny, on the other hand, she doesn't have that body type. She's the same height as the Toon Patrol, and posses the iconic short legs long body look they have too. I'm not quite sure how boobs would look/work on that body type. Maybe Shiny just uses hair conditioner to make her chest fur extra fluffy?? (The book Who Censored Roger Rabbit had Hare Conditioner for rabbit characters. I'm pretty certain Toontown would have a specific bran of conditioner that makes your hair fluffier than normal. But Shiny also has fluffy head fur that she styles like hair too, so that could be a part of it too)

One of the gags I can see Shiny doing is something akin to the 'trenchcoat' gag. Like, maybe the guys have to distract Greasy for some reason, and Shiny knows it (because this is one of her 'arrested by the TP' times and she's under house arrest)

Shiny: *rolls her eyes. Tosses her toast on the plate* You guys are trying way too hard.

Smartass: Oh, and you're one 'ta talk? You haven't done jack!

Shiny: Because I've been waiting for you dummies to stop and realize. But you clearly aren't gonna, so-

Greasy: *storms into the room* ¡Eso es todo! ¡Hijos de puta será mejor que me cuenten qué está pasando ahora!

Shiny: 🙄 *calmly walks right up to her boyfriend* Ey, Devil.

Greasy: Que???

Shiny: *unbuttons and rips open her shirt- conveniently out of sight from the rest of the Toon Patrol and audience*

Greasy: 😳😳😳😳😳

Weasels: !?!?!?

Shiny, cooly rebuttoning her shirt before turning towards the TP: I bought you an hour. Spend it wisely. *walks away*

Greasy, looking like he just saw the gates of Heaven: *chases after Shiny* Mí Vida! Come back! You can't leave me like this!!!

Weasels:

As you can see, for Shiny, this leaves a mystery of what she has under her shirt. Does she have the femine feature that Greasy is so mad about? Or is it just fur and Greasy is just happy to see any woman naked? The world may never know XD

#Asks #OC tid-bits #ships #OC x Canon #Griny #Toon Patrol #Greasy Weasel #Shiny Weasel #my own oc's #Winnie Weasel #WFRR comics #WFRR #who framed roger rabbit #disney #disney villains

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generalfoolish · 2 years

Text

To Hell and Back

ADRIAN CHASE APPRECIATION WEEK day 03. Alternate Universe

Summary: In which it's the zombie apocalypse!

Pairing: Vigilante (Adrian Chase) x F!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, sexual themes, canon-typical violence, angst, it's zombies

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: If there's one thing about me, is that I'm gonna write a zombie au. Know this isn't to everyone's taste though, so I tried to keep the actual zombie-ness at a minimum.

Master List | Tag List Form | Adrian Chase Master List

The air hung around you in sweltering curtains, suffocating you beneath your hastily fastened mask. The bandana was tied tightly across your nose, a poor substitute for a proper mask, but one that would keep blood spray from your mouth. It also completes a secondary job, one you don’t think about until you tug the material down, and are met with the biting taste of iron and pungent stench of rot.

You gag, twice, before composing yourself.

In the calm after the battle, you make a checklist, a grounding action that never fails to comfort you. It’s a habit leftover from when there was a world to manage, something beyond just surviving. You begin as you always do: double check the bodies around you. A methodical practice that you can manage as you structure the rest of your list.

Stab the head. Check for survivors. Was that a growl? No.

Stab the head. Wipe your blade down when you finish this check. Scan the horizon for storms.

Stab the head. Inventory your pack. Maybe have that can of carrots for dinner? How long until those canned goods will give you botulism? Years, right? Right.

Stab the head. Go back to your safe room, double check the perimeter.

Stab the head. Check yourself for any cuts, scratches, bites, etc.

Stab the head. Miss the stupid head. Stab the fucking head.

In a lot of ways, the apocalypse was easier. At least, you might have said so before you stumbled across the gang in Washington. Evergreen was a town you passed through now for supplies, since it wasn’t heavily populated. It wasn’t a place you ever would have visited prior to the end of days.

Zombies or no, it was a desolate, shit hole of a town. Even for an apocalypse, it seemed run-down. That’s how you found yourself narrowing down every lead, chasing every possible stache of goods, even in the abandoned movie rental building.

You’d actually found a sizable munitions dump when you found yourself face to face with a knife. You smiled at it, the first person you had seen in days, and the knife had dropped immediately. You raised your eyes, taking in the sight of the man before you. His hair was a disheveled mess, ratty brown curls tamped with dirt and sweat. His glasses were askew, although the wire frames seemed to be in decent condition. Your eyes roamed down his form, clad in a blue and black suit, outfitted with several pieces of reinforcing armor, and you dimly wondered if he had made that specifically for the apocalypse. He licked his dry lips before speaking, a sight which drew your attention and had you struggling to remember why you’d come in the building at all.

“You’re smiling? What’re you smiling for? Uh, guys, she’s smiling? Do you think she’s traumatized?” His voice was too high, you thought, too fleeting. His words swirled around you, falling like dust, shaking something loose inside of you. They were the first words you’d heard in weeks, maybe months.

“We’re all traumatized, numbnuts.” A new voice argued, deeper, this one. The man it belonged to walked up carefully, his clothing stretched across massive muscles, his white pants painted crimson with dried blood.

“Well, I meant more than the usual PTSD that could be attributed to surviving in a zombie apocalypse. Plus, she’s not screaming. That’s a good sign, right?” The first man spoke again, this time crouching beside you on the floor. When his eyes were leveled with yours, you noticed they were green, flecked with honey, and you felt your chest crack open with such trust and compassion that you threw your arms around him.

He staggered back for a moment, from the sudden weight and the awkward position, before tightening his hold on you. You breathed shakily into his shoulder, and he had chuckled, nervously above you.

“I’m Adrian.” He told you, pulling back. “This is Chris, and there are a few of us. We’re good people.” Adrian told you, and you believed him. It could have been the dehydration, or exhaustion, but you really believed that Adrian was telling the truth.

Despite Adrian’s insistence, Chris scoffed behind him. Two women filed in after, shortly joined by another man, all of whom were shocked to find you in their midst–alive. It had been some time since they had seen anyone alive either.

That’s how you found yourself joining the 11th Street Kids in Evergreen.

Fighting with Adrian was as seamless as breathing. You’d long switched from using guns to something quieter, and as you moved, slicing your blade through the endless undead, there was Adrian filling all the gaps you left behind. He was your blind spot, he was your everything.

Falling in love during the apocalypse wasn’t something you’d ever set out to do; but Adrian had had you hooked from the first moment you met him. He was skilled at killing the undead, which made him an immediate ally, someone you relied on for supply runs and watches. But he was also soft, unyielding in his loyalty and urge to protect those he cared about. He was constantly throwing himself in front of you, and you had to endure each time, worried that he’d been bitten or wounded or worse. Everytime he would spring back up, as if nothing had happened, and make an off-color joke that would comfort you.

You’d been as surprised as him the first time you’d kissed him. He was in the middle of telling how he’d fought off twenty undead, and you knew he was rounding that number down, with only his stupid machete, and by chance he’d found a chainsaw, and how cool was that? Because, as you all knew, he’d wanted to kill someone with a chainsaw for a long time, and if it was an undead someone, then so be it. It was a story you’d heard before, the details long embellished past the truth, but no one cared enough to correct him, his soothing voice carrying only over the small, crackling fire you’d built for warmth, to ward off the encroaching chill of winter in Washington.

His skin was awash with the orange tint from the fire, the light dancing off his glasses, and his lips pursed in a rare moment of silence. You seized the opportunity, pushing forward quickly, and pressing your lips against his. He had tasted of canned vegetables, the remnants of his measly dinner, and it was over before he could even react.

The squeak of surprise he made, the noise stuck in the back of his throat, was nearly enough to propel you forward again. The chorus of groans from the last of your group still your movements. You only smiled in his direction, and despite the glow of the fire, you could see the blush rising on his cheeks.

Two days later, you were separated from the group. It was a routine supply run, and a fucking horde had caught you all by surprise. You had ran, no choice but to split up when a few too many got between you and Adrian, his face contorted with fury and panic. You thought it was the last time you’d ever see him. You were so certain you would die. Your rugged pants and slowing footsteps were lost in a sea of undead moaning; but somehow you had had enough energy to push that much further, to get that much ahead, and lose the horde.

You’d fallen against the double doors of some warehouse, too exhausted to even check for any lingering undead. The ringing in your ears, compounded with the stifling silence of the seemingly empty warehouse, was unbearable. In a moment of desperation, you squeezed your eyes shut, closing out the worst of the headache that was beginning to pound, remnants of the spent adrenaline.

You awoke to snarling, and the stumbling footsteps of zombies. Moving on autopilot, heart thumping too harshly in your chest, you clambered to your feet and moved further into the warehouse. Cursing yourself for having knocked out, knowing you’d been too exhausted to go on, but realizing that it could have been the end for you.

You collided with a body in the dark, and you weren’t fast enough, your knife was still sheathed on your hip. Your last thoughts were of Adrian, his green eyes stormy and his voice cracking with the realization that he couldn’t reach you.

“Baby?” Adrian asked, gripping your arm a little too tightly, a knife centimeters from your head.

“Adrian?” You echoed, confusion coloring his name as it slipped from your voice. His hold on you tightened, the knife disappearing, while he pressed his mouth to yours. The kiss was urgent, fervent in a way your past kisses had not been. It was gnashing teeth, messy tongues, and split lips. You couldn’t get him close enough, kissing him wasn’t enough, you had to carve him into your skin, lest you lose him again. His thoughts must have mirrored your own, because when you leaned back to gulp in air, he growled and smashed his mouth back to yours.

His hands pawed at your skin, inching up under your shirt, searching and mapping, you realized, looking for bites or scratches. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“I’m fine.” You assured him, breathlessly.

“Promise?” He asked, his breath shaky.

“Pinky swear, Adrian.” You told him, holding your pinky up for him to curl around. His trembling hand met yours.

“Don’t ever–fuck. Don’t ever fucking do that again. I thought you…I thought you were gone.” He mumbled, eyes dropping to your tightly connected fingers.

“You came looking anyway?” You asked, nudging his hand with yours, a smile on your lips.

“Of course. Always.” He assured you quickly. “But you can’t do that again. I was going crazy, I thought I was dying. You mean everything to me.” He kissed you again, the urgency from before gone, but the hunger still evident.

Falling in love during an apocalypse was never the plan; but Adrian hadn’t given you much of a choice.

tagged: tagged: @michi-reads @strawberriesandknives @uncle-eggy @fictionlandslanddreams @uwiuwi @lostinwinderland314 @kidd3ath @aprilfire18 @zekegorilla @hypnoash @greenxtea0 @myguiltypleasures21 @goblynnrockz @racetrackheart

#peacemaker net #acweek22 #adrian chase x you #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #peacemaker hbo max #peacemaker vigilante #peacemaker fic

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isleofdragon · 9 months

Text

I think I have a curse.

Raptor Attack #3 went fabulous. I tried punching them off the swampward cliff, but they weren't getting shoved, and I think they broke all my legs, sooo I just jumped off the cliff. I looked behind me and was soothed by the sight of both these fucking raptors launching off the cliff after me. And as I watched them eat my corpse, I was happy.

I snuck down there again and lured them even farther away. We don't need a repeat of Red Raptor That Hid Nearby And Then Ambushed Me.

So I get back home and decide to build my new, second, better watch tower (first one kinda on hold).

And theres a Long Claws SO close. So I say "Topaz," (that's my igua's name), "let's get outta here. Let's vacay. I know a hill on the other side of the beaches. We can get cool stuff. Let's go."

We are sprinting gracefully along, and get onto the beach. And in the corner of my eye I see RED MIST. Oh fuck. Wait--an alpha?? This is the easy zone? I'm on easy mode?

No time to investigate. Do not stop running if you maybe see a raptor. Investigate later, or even never.

So I get across some water and finally turn back and YEAH ITS AN ALPHA RAPTOR.

Okay. Good thing I'm going on vacay!

I turn to face my route. I do not take one step. There is a SPINOSAUR. I retreat as much as I can without re-entering Alpha Raptor Danger Zone.

And I have nowhere to go except home. I'm about to sneak up a beachside cliff path when I remember: shit! that's where the Long Claws is! Okay plan A B C D? Plan D: I'll go the long route around, once the raptor meanders a bit farther from the beach. But that's when I remember:

Shit! If I go that way, I'll end up on the base of the cliff where I threw those fucking raptors!!!

🤭🤭🤭 I am genuinely having a great time. This is fun for me lol.

Okay so I ask my clever smart darling wife, who analyzes the situation and then suggests my "Thread the needle through the Spinosaur and the Alpha Raptor, which will absolutely take me right to the Long Claws, BUT Long Claws gave a fairly agreeable space bubble so i should be able to time things right and slip through.

I make it up the beachside cliff path and I'm hiding on the very edge. The Alpha Raptor has meandered quite a ways away down the beach, so I figure if the Long Claws attacks, I might need to leap off the cliff to escape (pretty sure Topaz can survive it).

But what do I come NOSE TO NOSE with?

A GIANT BEE NEST.

I could go back, but then I'd still have to get passed either the Spinosaur or the Alpha Raptor (who was currently hogging the southern end of the beach, which blocks my other routes). But I sure as fuck can't sit next to this stupid beehive! These things killed my first Iguanadon!

The Long Claws is having a nice little meander over to the cliff. Appreciating the seaside breeze maybe? I lingered for a couple seconds and as soon as the Long Claws turned a little, I BOLTED.

ALL THE WAY HOME.

And I decided: I needed to deal with the bees that had spawned. After getting chased across a cliff, beach, waterway, and second beach by TWO carbonemys (I stole their egg RIP), I was worried the bees would follow me home.

So I whistled for my two toughest dilfs: Walker and Nath. And I lure the bees into the opening, where my dilfs start doing their best to fight em. But...I did not realize the dilfs lack of height would hinder them so much. And these GIANT BEES will not stop chasing me. I basically do a Scooby-Do gag, running back and forth, being chased by angry bees and slightly slower loyal dilfs. I loop back around to draw the bees right over the dilfs but they just cant take them out.

OH. ITS ONLY TWO BEES BTW. But ONE killed my last Iguanadon.

Topaz's health gets low. Panic mode. What the fuck. I can't hit these bees any better than my dilfs. I don't even have cool poison spit. And there's no way I'm risking killing Topaz while trying to hit them with spears or arrows.

I sprint home. It's my savior on my roof: Potato Shale. (She's more gray in the sunlight). And zip as close to her as I can and then wait. "Easy, Topaz. Let 'em come. I know it sucks to be bait, but if we can get 'em over here, we got a raptor on our side."

Success! Though, apparently I also left my house door open during my panic, which means every dog I own tried to come join the fight. Night was setting and I was scared and hurrying but I finally got everyone tucked into bed (aka, Dimorphodon on my table, dilfs out of my way, Moschops in the forge, Topaz on the third-floor roof, and Shale on the second floor roof.

What a day. Time for bed I don't know how to sleep so I stay up all night making uhhhhhh.

Okay I'm not using that word because the bots will find me.

I made sleepy goo :)

Cue the lovely morning. Triumphant! Brave! Amazing! Wonderful!

I decide that Topaz and I oughta make a loop and check things out. Maybe find a new friend!

LONG CLAWS. He's on the OTHER SIDE of my little home, somehow, and I almost walk right into it because he's in the thick trees with bamboo stuff and I barely catch a glimpse of those long claws silhouetted between the greenery.

"...No way. I don't even see it anymore. I'm being nervous, is all."

Linger...linger... Oh, okay! Its the Long Claws. Seems to be the same one from before, though I have no idea how it got across my area without issue.

Okay, fine, the Long Claws is fine. I'm going to the beach to see if that Alpha Raptor moved on.

A trio of parasaurs are foraging on the beach. What a good sign! If they havent been eaten yet, then maybe that Alpha Raptor moved on.

Wait. What is that, further inland? Is that another parasaur? It looks...different...

No red glow, though. And definitely too slow and steady to be a raptor. I would have guessed it was a Long Claws based on its size and movement, but it clearly had a more raptor-ish body plan.

Did I forget a dinosaur? Who else is that big and slow? Iguanodon are quicker and take smaller steps. But not a parasaur; no long head horn. I am trying to remember other slow, bipedal, parasaur-y raptor-y dinosaurs when it hits me.

So first of all, there are TWO.

And second of all, they are... They can't be! This is the default starting area! I've already fought off THREE raptor attacks, dodged an alpha raptor, had my vacay cut short by a Spinosaur, snuck around 1-2 Long Claws, and got into a fight with BEES, which I WON.

I sneak a little closer... And yeah. They are indeed carnataurs. Carnitaurs? I don't know. They look like if T Rex had a brother and you thought "oh that's your little bro?" and then the 'little' bro runs up to you and headbutts you with the full force of a charging dinosaur and roars 'DONT CALL ME LITTLE.' Like, they're not as big as T-Rex, and they have the siiiiillliest little arms, but they have two horn nubs and 95% of all the rage in the universe.

I've seen them ages ago, in my previous play. They were in the mountains, and on the other side of the conifer trees. And in other zones where you can respawn, briefly, if you want a quick glimpse around before one of the many predators kills you without even being seen. They make GREAT areas for a base...once you have a Yuttyranaus or something to fend off the carnitaurs.

I am on Baby Beach. Why are they here. I don't think my raptor can even fight them off. Raptors have the speed and strength to kill most things in a few seconds, but if the battle doesn't end soon, their low stamina and low health are easily overpowered once their speedy attacks have worn them out.

Maybe I need to move somewhere safer. But?? Where is safer than Baby Beach??? Uwa.

#thedragonqueenspeaks

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uncle-jaskas-writings · 1 year

Text

The day I died

It was quite a beautiful day, the day I died. I had been in the trenches for... A month? Two? Well, long enough to be familiar with things. It had been quite a sight on the day I arrived. The sudden chance of picture perfect countryside to bare, muddy hills battered by countless artillery barrages. Here and there, remains of battlements and soldiers alike poked from the craters. It was quite a horrifying sight for young boys to behold. It wasn’t quite the picture of the war we were given by the enlistment adds. Nevertheless, we did our best to hide the shock. I doubt only few succeeded.

Though those few months had been eventful, I had scarcely seen any real action. We were told to hold the lines and wait while the higher-ups decided what would be the best way to push forward. Our enemy seemed to have the same idea, though that didn’t stop either side sending small squads at night to sneak over the no-mans-land.

Of course, there was the occasional lone daredevil who would “breach the lines” by themselves. They rarely got even up before snipers took them out, and those who got farther were sawn in half by machineguns. Sometimes they’d be left there, wounded and screaming for help. Needless to say, that wasn’t too good on the morale. Some said that the officers shot them if they had a line of sight. I don’t know if those rumors had any truth to them, but that would have been mercy.

Then the news came that we were to go over the top. All of us. Many of the younger men (including me) were quite excited, but the veterans became silent and grim. Well, most of them did. One of them was especially cross about the command. Though he was cross about everything.

We called him the Old Bear. To be honest I don’t think I ever learned his real name. Though old, he was a brute of a man, tall and broad shouldered. A fair share of muscle too. His jaw was wide and straight as an arrow, and a great grey handlebar mustache only made it seem straighter. When angered, he looked like a grizzly bear woken from its sleep. But this bear never really slept. Just closed its eyes and once it woke up, it was angrier than ever.

He cursed the command, generals and everyone who got in his way. But then he sat down and started to clean his rifle. No doubt he had seen his fair share of fights, even before this one. He knew it was useless to go against the orders. Perhaps cleaning his rifle helped him calm down. Once he had calmed down a little, he said that he’d stay on watch for the whole night. It was unusual for one man to take the whole night but since his skills were well known it was allowed. Many of the men whose watch he had taken clearly appreciated it, but everyone knew it was best to let him be.

The next day those men appreciated him ever more. A storm had broken during the night, flooding the trenches with rainwater. Yet the Old Bear hadn’t asked to be relieved form the guard. Though the weather had taken its toll on him. He seemed to avoid putting weight on his right leg. It was strange seeing him like that. Perhaps it reminded me that no-one was safe here.

Even stranger felt having him call me over to him. When I didn’t move immediately, he called me again and asked if I were deaf. I must have looked quite stupid to him, standing there with my mouth slightly open and staring at him. This was the first time he had ever paid any attention to me. Once I was right by him he placed his hand around me for support.

Apparently his leg had been a problem for a while, but he hadn’t paid any attention as it wasn’t bothering him too much. Now it was different and he wanted me to help him to the medical station. It took us a while to reach the tents, and for the whole trip, he said nothing. At the medics tent a nurse removed his boot, revealing a blackened foot dripping with puss. The stench made the nurse gag, while I rushed out to throw up. I was called back in to help lay him on a bed. The Old Bear only asked something to hide the stench and help with pain. When the nurse said he’d need to stay for a good while to see if the foot needed amputating, the Old Bear started to roar about duty and how “sending those green boys over the top alone would be the end of them”. He shut up only after the nurse told him he wouldn’t ever go over the top if they’d have to amputate his leg.

The Old Bear was hardly the only patient. Almost every other bed was occupied, either by the wounded or sick. Fewer, the runs, gunshot wounds, broken bones and shellshock were all treated here before men were sent to recover elsewhere or back to the trenches. Though there were certain tents men went in and only left covered with blankets. They didn’t look any different from the rest, but everyone knew which tents meant that there was little chance for a man to return.

There was certain air to the medical station. A bad air, mostly, filled by the stench of blood, puss and whatever else came out of the sick and wounded. But there was also some hope. Men dreaming about being sent away to recover, or that their wounds were not as bad as they thought. Though the cries of joy were few and far between pained screams and begging for relief.

Needless to say I didn’t stay there long after I were no longer needed. I would have liked to chat with the nurses, but they were quite busy all the time. And if you wasted their time you’d more than likely be disciplined. But on the way back, I had all the time in the world. Asked around for news, smoked a fag with a group of runners who had no running to do, and generally enjoyed being away from the trenches. The closer I got to the front, the lower my mood dropped. But at least I had gotten a small break.

As time passed and the moment of going over neared you could feel the tension rising. Arguments started from nothing, men barely spoke to each other and when they did their voices were quiet and monotone. Banter and jokes were scarce. Laughter died quickly when faced with the uncertainty of the future.

And then the time came. We stood ready at our part of the trench, rifles on our shoulders and hands halfway reaching to climb over the top. Each and every man stared at our officer, who in turn stared at his watch. It felt as if every second my heart skipped a beat. Never had a sound of a shell exploding been quite so daunting. Because this time, we’d follow those shells. Once the whistle was blown and we climbed up to the no-mans land.

Ahead of us opened a grim field, full of crates created by the constant shelling, barbed wire and the poor sods who had tried to be heroes. We moved carefully over the barren wasteland, praying that the shelling ahead of us had pushed the enemy into hiding. Sadly we were wrong. After just a few steps we heard shots from the trenches and men started to fall. My bet is that more than one of our squads had walked right in front of enemy machine guns. Or at least that’s how it felt. We tried to answer to the fire the best we could, but most of the time we missed. Shooting while moving and under fire wasn’t too good for the aim.

We were told that no matter what we had to keep moving. Staying put was certain death. It had been hammered in to our brains constantly after the order came. You. Do. Not. Stop.

It was the only order I ever disobeyed. I were bringing up the rear, my mates were already close enough to throw their grenades when I heard the whistling. Who’s shell it was, I couldn’t tell nor care. Didn’t even yell out to my squadmates before I dived into the nearest crater. There was a deafening explosion as I hit the ground.

The next thing I know is silence. Silence, as I lay in the mud eyes closed, clutching my head. I don’t know how long I laid there. Could have been seconds or hours. To me, it was all the same. What finally made me realize that I were alive was the slowly rising ringing in my ears. I gathered the last shred of courage left in me and peeked out of my crater. Where moments ago was silence, there now was high pitched ringing. And we where my squad had been, a crater.

I don’t know what made me pull myself from that hole and move towards the enemy trench, but that’s what I did. I flinched whenever I felt the shockwave of an explosion, but I still moved forward. Once I were near the edge, I did as we were taught. Threw a grenade and followed it once it had exploded.

The trench was full of signs of battle. Casings littered about, shrapnel sticking out of the walls. Few fallen as well. I didn’t see our uniforms, at least I think I didn’t. But I was hardly the most attentive, numb in body and soul. But I kept going to find men from my platoon. Or anyone from our side.

I stumbled through the muddy trench for a while without seeing anyone. The trench made a sharp turn to the left, and some way further to the right. On that stretch were few more bodies. Once again none were ours. Judging by the shredded condition of their uniforms, they were hit by a shrapnel grenade. Their torsos were completely covered in red. I don’t think I have ever seen so much blood anywhere.

After I had gotten past the two bodies, something moved where the trench curved. A man. An enemy. I hadn’t seen him at first. He had been on his knees, seemingly looking for something. Hastily I raised my gun towards him. You know, despite all the drilling and training, they don’t teach you to kill. I was there, close enough to count his fingers. But I couldn’t pull the trigger.

Instead I yelled at him. Or at least I think did. All I could was still loud ringing. At least he still heard me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man go that pale. Again I yelled. For a moment we stood still, frozen in that mud covered hell. Then his hand moved, slowly, in the mud of the trench floor. Everything was a flurry. He launched forward screaming. The only thing I heard was the high pitched ting in my ears. My gun was still pointed at him. He dodged with a knife in his hand. I followed and stabbed forward. The bayonet ripped through his neck. His hands grasped the barrel of the gun before he fell against me. I pushed back. Back, until he was on his back on the mud. I stabbed again. And again. And then I fell to lean against the trench wall.

I don’t know how long it was until more of our men arrived. They spoke to me. All I heard was ringing as I stared at the body on the ground. Then I was pushed forward. We cleared the trenches. Rounding one corner I bumped into an enemy. There was shock in his face. Without a thought I pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. Three shots that killed us both. The man fell, surprised shock turned to pain as I pushed him down. I stepped over him as he gurgled and tried to grab my boots. And I felt nothing. I was just… Empty. Dead. I reached the bunker and watched the battlements. And I thought. “I died back there.” Rest of the battles were just… Motion. Motion of a dead man, making more others like him.

#original work #original writing #ww1 story #the day I died #short story #A piece inspired by pawns of war by Miracle of Sound

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