#this was. good. a whole lot of very dubious consent in there for sure but. good. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foreverdolly · 2 months

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization:

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died.

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this?

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion.

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room.

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters.

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.”

There it was. The truth.

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield.

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong.

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety.

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

It was a guard.

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this.

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls.

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground.

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat.

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned.

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you.

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you.

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in.

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged.

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you.

And so they did.

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades.

He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length.

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing.

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . .

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent.

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face.

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.”

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on.

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust.

He had to pay for what he did to you.

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault.

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway.

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt?

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway.

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start.

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead.

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all.

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely.

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore.

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head.

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved.

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out.

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you.

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you.

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood.

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide.

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin.

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell.

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck.

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again?

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences.

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone.

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation.

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you.

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power.

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.”

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was.

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night.

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.”

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved.

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?”

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides.

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub.

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs.

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again.

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep.

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would.

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now.

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now.

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly.

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this.

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.”

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd.

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-”

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated.

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would.

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump.

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in.

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin.

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off.

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

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moonstruckme · 23 days

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omg ok idea! James or Sirius with a gf whose chatty but just not super crass and May be she comes home drunk from girl's night and is just openly trying to seduce him and he's just so taken aback like who is this person?!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: intoxication, dubious consent but nothing more than kissing

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 717 words

Sirius has never received such determined kisses in his life.

He turns his lips from yours, smearing them over your brow in consolation when you make a piteous, dejected sound he’s going to pretend for your benefit isn’t hilarious. You keep planting kisses on his jaw, his neck. Sirius catches your wrists in his hands when you start pulling up the hem of his shirt.

“Hey, hey,” he laughs. “What happened to ‘hello’? Is this how we greet each other now, sweetness?”

The kisses had begun the second he’d shut the door on your friends. They’d chatted for a minute before that, and you’d had this strange smile on your face as you waited for them to go. At the time, Sirius had chalked it up to your obvious inebriation, but now he knows it for depravity.

“Preferably,” you mumble, mouth busy with the bits of chest you can get at by pulling down the collar of his shirt. Sirius isn’t sure whether you can’t stand on your own or whether you’ve just decided pressing yourself fully against him is the way to go. Any other time, he really wouldn’t be opposed.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, delighted and exercising every ounce of self restraint in his battered soul to keep from kissing you back. He starts pulling you towards the couch, your uncoordinated feet following behind.

You pause in your ravishment to grin up at him. You look positively impish. “Like, d’you want a list?”

Sirius laughs, astonished. “What happened to my shy girl? Were you freaky fridayed by someone in the club?”

“Freaky fridayed in the club.” You snort, flopping down onto the couch when he does and immediately getting into his lap. “That could mean lots of things.”

Sirius feels a tug on his mouth. “Such as?”

You bury your head in his neck, voice vibrating against his skin. “It’d make a good band name.”

“It might,” he agrees, taking your face between both hands and removing you from him like a leech. A very pretty, beloved leech. “Do you feel like it might be time for bed, lovebug?”

Your eyes spark. “Yeah,” you say heartily.

“To sleep,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” Your face falls. “Well, no. I thought we could have sex first.”

Sirius guffaws, the sound short and loud, and his amusement really only worsens when you frown sullenly.

“Baby,” he tries gentling his tone, “I would love that, but you know why we can’t.”

“Why?” you ask obstinately.

Sirius pushes his thumbs into your cheeks, making wishful dimples on either side of your frown. “Because of what’s gotten into you.”

“But I want to,” you whine.

He pouts right back at you. “Me too, darling. It’s a tragedy.”

“Not even a kiss?” you ask, tilting your head in his hands and looking up at him with huge, sweet eyes. Have you been able to do that this whole time? Fuck, he’s lucky you’re not often feeling bold enough to use it.

“I could do a kiss,” he concedes.

“A nice one,” you demand.

Sirius feels his lips pull up. “Agreed. A nice one.”

You close your eyes, expectant, and he bends towards you, pressing his lips to yours sweetly. You taste like all manner of booze, but still his girl. You make a soft sound in your throat, lips parting for his, coaxing him in. In an extraordinary show of willpower, Sirius pulls away.

“Hey.” You look betrayed, and he can’t help himself, planting a quick peck on your nose that makes it scrunch adorably. “You said it’d be a nice one!”

“That felt pretty nice to me,” he says, laughing when you try to move in for more and he has to dodge you. He turns his head to the side and catches at your hands when they go for his shirt. “That’s it for tonight. If you want more kisses tomorrow, I promise to let you have as many as you like.”

You sigh, giving up and hooking your chin on his shoulder. “Your lips were, like, buzzing,” you mumble, wistful. “It was nice.”

“Pretty sure that’s just you, sweetness,” Sirius tells you kindly, breaking his promise once more to press his lips to your hair. “Ready for bed now?”

“To sleep?” you ask despondently.

“Yeah, baby. To sleep.”

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virgincels · 5 months

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STRICTLY BUSINESS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. a lot of misogyny, sexual harassment, p in v, leon is a creep omg, dubious consent but she agrees ultimately 😭

note. HAII can’t bother to change my dividers despite the theme change .. not edited so please ignore mistakes! og re4 leon btw .. no other leon.. :3 honestly I will probably write a longer fic like this bc.. I didn’t make it fleshed out enough 😭 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

tumblr has started to remove fics that for example use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Tuesday October 21st, 2004

“You’re kidding me, what a treat,” Leon Special Agent Kennedy still gets frisked when he steps foot into the BSAA headquarters. He’s done more for America than Washington ever did, and that guy’s on the dollar bill. You’d think that after rumours spread of you being bent over in the Oval Office, being the main suspect in a presidential affair, they’d give you more credit. “This is my favourite part.” He says, straight-faced.

“Kennedy,” Redfield’s smile is seething, more constipated than it is friendly, like the mere sight of Leon brings him immense pain. “Hands against the wall.”

“You want me to bend over too?” He asks, very seriously, because Leon is a good boy and he’ll do as he’s told. “I can bend over.”

“Think you’ve done enough of that.” Chris sees Leon as an invasive species of sorts. A snail that gets into the cabbage patch.

“You’re no fun.”

Chris calls out a name he hasn’t heard before, small hands land on his waist. It can’t be Redfield ‘cause his palms easily dwarf Leon’s waist, could wrap around it if they stretched far enough. He glances over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of whoever has the honour of feeling him up.

“Eyes forward,” A less bullish voice commands, “Um, please, sir.” This is a girl, not a woman, but a girl. Women are his favourite, but he can make do with a girl if she’s cute enough.

“Must be my lucky day,” Leon hums in delight as you pat him down, “Oooh, are we doing a cavity search?”

“Well…” You pause, hands lingering over his calf, “I’m not really sure.”

“No.” Redfield grunts in his primitive way.

“No, no cavity search,” You confirm, “I’m… sorry.” You tell him, and you really should be, Leon loves having his cavity searched. Oral, anal, if he had a vaginal cavity he’s sure he would have fun with that too.

“You can go lower, sweetheart,” Leon bites his tongue when you ghost over his belt loops, “Grab my balls while you’re at it, I don’t mind.”

“Knock it off, Kennedy.” His first real warning, ‘cause Chris speaks in his Captain voice not in ape sounds.

“I’m kidding, you can take it easy, big guy.” His mind wanders as you touch him up, getting to his chest in which you find a flask tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket, it’s confiscated promptly.

“Are you stupid?” Hunnigan asks, as his handler or glorified babysitter, she must accompany him to every teensy, little task. Her question is rhetorical, obviously.

“She’s just so sweet to me, I call her Honeygan.” Leon tells no one in particular.

“No you do not, Leon.” She says, cerebral and unfrisked, which begs the question of why only he gets borderline harassed on BSAA grounds. Not that he’s complaining.

“Hi there, cutie,” He doesn’t smile often for ladies, they like the whole brooding thing he’s got going on, but he really can’t hold it back. All teeth and everything. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here? Did you get lost, need help finding your mommy?”

“Kennedy,” Second warning, it goes unheard, or unprocessed, or rather Leon does not give a single shit.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” He puts his hands on his knees, like he’s crouched down talking to a toddler. “You look like a baby.”

“Twenty-one, sir.” Of course you are, lamb-faced and bright-eyed. That’s far too little. Then again, old enough to drink, old enough to suck dick. If a girl can knock back a shot, she’s likely to swallow - not spit.

“Oh, and do your Skechers light up, sweetheart?” You should be at home, burping a Baby Alive doll, pottering around an all-pink, plastic kitchenette. Doing things that girls do.

“What…?” You glance over at Chris cluelessly.

With this, he’s guided very forcefully by the scruff of his neck, his popped collar, to where the meeting is taking place. Chambers is there, and she’s grown within the last few years. She stretches back in her seat, her tiny tits jut out when her back bows. She hasn’t grown in that sense. You stand guard at the door in tactical gear, it’s like putting a spiked collar on a puppy and passing it off as a guard dog. He’d once thought of the BSAA to be pragmatic, they talk rationally while STRATCOM talk a lot of fancy shit in their Italian wool suits, but to put a young girl in charge of such a strenuous task? Leon takes it all back. They’re a bunch of brutes, hunched over sucking the meat from animal bones, girl bones even.

“Focus.” Valentine, bold and busty, sits beside him “She’s twenty-one.” Back off, is what she means. They’ve had brief encounters, but she’s a woman of few words, her sneer keeps him away as it does most men. She could use some dick.

Leon is well aware of your age considering you told him an hour or so prior. Like he said before, he likes women, not girls, but you’re certainly cute enough. “I know, too young.”

“She’s capable,” Jill shrugs, “Real brave kid,” This is the problem, it’s not bravery, it’s stupidity and Leon of all people knows the difference. Jill stands up when the meeting comes to its end, she’s the first to leave, pats your head on the way out.

The room clears out, you stand still and upright as he approaches. “After you, sir.”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon chides, “Ladies first, sweetheart.”

“After you, sir, I insist,” You’re getting impatient, antsy, “And please don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer? Babe, baby, honey, babycakes, sweetpea,” All the classics, “Sugartits?”

“With all due respect, sir, fuck you.” You look at him with such discontent it makes him hard.

“Girls shouldn’t talk like that.” Leon stumbles slightly as you barge past him and exit. He finds it funny, he cracks another smile, shame no one’s here to see it, it’s quite beautiful really. His eyes follow the movement of your hips, the swell of your ass that’s hidden beneath those bulky cargos as you stomp off into the distance.

Monday November 1st, 2004

It sits on your desk like a harbinger of doom. A threat that signifies the end of the world, which is everyday in your field. This is the end of your life. No one else’s. This ostentatious display of affection is where it all starts.

“Nice flowers,” Piers comments, and it’s a totally innocent remark, because initially you had thought the exact same thing. How thoughtful, right? Flowers, tons of them, in all shades. You’re not a flowers kinda girl, but you’re not rude, you appreciate the gesture. That’s just how you’ve been raised, the vase mom bought you hasn’t been put to good use either.

You made the mistake of reading the card attached. In barely legible handwriting, all the swoops and loops throw you off, is that an E or a 3, it’s scrawled in leaky black ink that smears easily, crumpled it up the moment you saw who signed it off.

From his cokewhore nose to his insoles, you have no intentions of liaising with Agent Kennedy, much less going on a date with him. He might be charming from afar, but the moment he opens his mouth— oh, how you wish you could sever his tongue and put it in a jar. Might even go the extra mile to pickle it and feed it to him.

The note gets tossed in the trash, you attempt to dispose of the flowers the same way, stuffing them down into the bin beneath your desk. An incinerator would be preferred, but this will do for now. You’re shaking as you rid of them, rolling back your shoulders to relax, you can’t get him off of you. The scent of his biting cologne is in the back of your throat. It stings. He hasn’t done anything as of now, there’s just something about Leon that makes you uneasy.

Thursday November 4th, 2004

Stupid girl. You’re a stupid girl for thinking it was ever over, men like him persist until they wear you down, grind your bones into dust. Today it’s a box of decadent chocolates, you have to admit, they look good. Wasting food makes your gut ache with guilt so you place them on a table in the staff room.

“That’s not very nice, Godiva’s expensive.” Tight-lipped and repulsive, Agent Kennedy stands in the doorway. Why he’s here? You have no clue.

“Sir,” You fix your posture reflexively, “I appreciate it, I’m just not… a fan.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart.” Leon cocks his head to the side, the lack of mirth in his tone is chilling. “I waited for you on Monday.”

“I never accepted, sir.” You tell him, “I’m flattered, but I didn’t have time.” And you never will have time for a man like him.

“You didn’t show, I looked like an idiot, that sweater makes you look kinda big by the way,” He says breezily, slips it in seamlessly with his complaint.

You don’t register it, blinking at him dumbly. “I hardly think this is appropriate.”

“Sweetheart,” Leon cups your cheeks, his fingertips are icy on your burning skin, “I don’t go on a lot of dates, so you should count yourself lucky.”

“Sir, what're you doing here?” You question, trying so badly to bypass the system failure that’s taking place in your frazzled brain.

“I have some business, but that’s none of your business is it, cutie?” He taps your nose, “I think you’re too little to get it anyway. Y’know, you take orders well, I thought you’d be a good girl.”

“I’m not a dog,” You scowl.

“Smile, sweetheart, shouldn’t pull faces like that.” Leon pats your cheek, then he turns on his heels and leaves as quickly as he came.

Friday November 5th, 2004

Agent Kennedy is on the premises again, this leads to you ducking into doorways, turning sharp corners into endless corridors— Anything to escape his gaze unscathed. Unfortunately, running has never been your strong suit, it requires some agility, you’re a no-nonsense kind of girl, face the issue head on with your bare hands. You’re capable. So capable. You’re strong, and you have a gun. When your fists fail you, your gun sits cold on your hip. Not that shooting Leon S. Kennedy would ever be a good look in someone’s dossier, but it provides you with some relief.

“There you are,” Quiet, he emerges from the shadows like he materialised right then and there, Agent Kennedy is stealthy, you suppose, “I missed you,” He’s hot on your heels, the bitterness of his scent begins to cloud your mind, “You look good from back here, should wear a skirt more often.”

Don’t speak. Don’t speak. Don’t speak. As much as you’d love to give him a piece of your mind, you fear he’d take it in stride, entertained by your outburst. Leon feeds on attention. He follows you for the entirety of your journey to the ladies room. “Sweetheart, speak to me.”

You’re a fool for thinking he has the decency to wait outside, let you do your business, and then once you return he can begin sweet-talking in your ear once more. Of course, Leon shoulders the door when it shuts on him, he jams his leg in the cubicle door when you try to lock him out. Too slow.

“Did you want to watch me piss, sir?” You ask, putting on your bravest face, as if your heart isn’t about to fall out of your ass and land on the floor with a wet smack. He scares you more than any virus-addled nutcase ever has.

“No,” Leon frowns, and it’s the first time he hasn’t had a witty remark, “Do you think I want to see that shit?” Oh, that offended him.

“I’m sorry for assuming, sir, but it’s just that you are,” You make a mild gesture at the toilet, “In the women’s restroom.”

“I know,” He’s still frowning, and you don’t like it. “I need something from you, babe.” Babe. Holy Mother of God, that’s worse than sweetheart, it sounds infinitely more sleazy.

“What can I do for you, sir? You got a kink?” Once more, you point to the toilet, the scumbag bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue wets his bottom lip as he hunkers down to press his pointy nose to yours. You hear him sniff around in the crook of your neck, like he’s chasing white lines without a straw.

You’re brave. You’re capable, so capable, Miss Valentine has told you the same. What would she do? What would she do? Quick-thinking, improvising, it’s not your thing— Your fingers itch to take out your gun and press it to his temple. Your own temple at this point.

Leon isn’t stupid, he takes your hand, brushing your knuckles with his lips, then he forces you to face the wall. “Hands on the wall, babe, it’s my turn.”

“Sir,” The argument dies as quickly as it comes to mind, fizzling out on your tongue.

“I won’t hurt you, babe, I know you’re little.” He almost coos, fingers tracing over your shoulder blades, then your spine, then his thumbs slot into your back dimples. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, it doesn’t look right, holding guns and shit— You’re too pretty for that, I bet it hurts your arms, don’t it? Oh, you poor thing. I really care about these things, I’m a feminist, sweetheart.”

No. No, you’re strong, you’re well trained— You’re the best Captain Redfield has to offer. “Mr. Kennedy, please, I’m sorry about the date.” There’s a warmth that presses to your back, “It was an honest mistake—“ His dick, he’s got his fucking pig dick on your back. “Get off of me.” Yes, you’re trained in combat, but against him, admittedly you have nothing on him. And it pisses you off more than his dick does.

“Cool it, babe,” Leon takes your wrists in his hand, keeping them behind your back, you hear him spit on his cock from above. The shlick, shlick, shlick of his wet dick being pumped has the acid in your stomach reacting badly with your lunch. “You’re hot, you ever think of going into porn?” Agent Kennedy is whiny during sex it seems, his voice gets airy, you take some amusement in that. As much amusement as you can in this type of scenario.

“I think you’re disgusting, sir,” Wetness splatters over the back of your sleeveless turtleneck, it soaks into the fabric. Leon kisses the nape of your neck, he tucks his cock away, wipes the sweat from his brow and leaves like he was never there in the first place.

The panic sets in a good five minutes later. He’s made you dirty, in a frenzy, you tear off your shirt in the public restroom, dunking it under the sink to wash it clean. A few ladies filter in and out, ask if you’re okay when they see you in your bra, scrubbing like a mad woman.

You smile your best smile, it’s your worst smile. The hand dryer does little to help you out, even when you wring and ring the fabric into the sink basin, all excess water and cum running down the drain, it’s weak. It’s hard to care in this state, hands trembling as you put it back on, the wetness only reminds you of him, it’s black so unless someone has the pleasure of bumping up against you - it’s likely no one will notice.

Visiting HR is new to you, the elevator dings and you step out onto a floor that’s entirely alien. With a foggy mind it’s harder to navigate the rooms, the people, the desks. A pretty lady leads you to the right place, an even prettier lady sits behind a desk. Her face is weathered, slightly mean, but she’s kind when she smiles.

“I’d like to report… I’d like to report,” Your hands are braced flat on the desk, slumped forward, “To report… I want to…”

Her smile is kinder this time, laced with sympathy, “Take your time, sweetheart,” No, don’t call me that, she takes note of how you bristle, “Take a seat and calm down, alright?”

“No,” You shake your head, insistent on getting it out here and now, “Special Agent Kennedy, Leon Kennedy, Leon Scott Kennedy, I want to report him for… I want to report him for— “

“Sweetie,” The lady, sympathetic once more, takes your hand, “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that.”

“What? Why? You don’t understand, he—“

“Agent Kennedy, he doesn’t work here, he’s not in our database, and taking it up with STRATCOM, well, that’s a whole ‘nother issue.”

“Right,” How stupid can you be? Stupid fucking asshole. It isn’t even a loophole, it’s just totally legal, you can’t do anything. “Right, of course, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Babe, there you are,” Leon revels in your jumpiness, it’s cute. Girls are cuter when they’re shy, when they need a big, strong man to keep ‘em safe. Stoicism doesn’t suit you, anxiety does, it makes your eyes glimmer in the same way Botticelli angels do, your lashes have no end to them. “I missed you.”

“Aren’t you busy saving the world and all, sir?” Still feisty, if it were up to Leon, he’d fuck you silly. Get it all out of you.

“You’re funny,” He says dryly, lips forming a line, “How about that date?”

Rather than exasperation like he had expected, there’s astoundment. “Are you… Are you serious?”

“Duh,” Leon nods, “I thought about it, cutie, I’m happy to give you a second chance.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking— Do you seriously think I would ever say yes to you?” Your brows furrow, they need a clean up, nothing some tweezers can’t fix, he’d have to sort out those forehead wrinkles too, you’re much too young for that.

“Nobody says no to me,” Leon responds with ease, “I don’t know why you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I really thought we had something.” His lips twitch, it’s painfully easy to rile you up. The temper is funny short-term, but long-term not quite as much.

“We,” You point at him, then at yourself, “We have nothing, sir, and if you touch me again, I swear on my life I’ll—“

“What will you do, sweetheart? Cry to your mommy about it?” He edges closer to you, till your sides are warm in his hands, “Little girls shouldn’t talk big, you don’t get to call the shots.”

“I’m not, I’m not a little girl, but you’re a fucking creep, and I will tell Captain Redfield, I will tell him.” And he’ll deal with you, Leon guesses. Stupid little girl, as if Mr. President would let a prick from the BSAA land a hit on his most prized possession, other than First Daughter Ashley Graham.

“See, baby? You can’t handle anything on your own, you’re too little.” He smiles, if your balled up fists say anything, it’s obnoxiously smug, “Oh, are you getting angry at me, baby? That’s no good, why don’t you smile for me?” Leon uses his thumbs to forcefully stretch your cheeks upwards, “C’mon, babe, smile for me.”

“Get off of me,” You twist out of his grip, pumps click-clacking as you desperately try to escape him, but it’s clear you’re new to them, getting the heel caught in each crack— Leon could do better.

“They make your legs look great,” He whistles, never less than a step behind, “Think you should wear ‘em everyday, field work ain’t all that, y’know? I could get you a job over in my building, filing and shit, could wear a skirt everyday.”

“Sir, do you ever shut up?” Comes your shaky yet clipped reply.

“I got plenty more where that came from, babe,” Leon says shamelessly, “Let me take you home, sweetheart, I’ll show you a good time.”

You shiver at the mere thought, shoulders lifting to your ears as you shake yourself off. Leon grabs you from behind once more, this time he’s got a handful of your tits. Without that bulletproof vest, you’ve got a great figure, shit made you square. This pencil skirt and turtleneck combo is flattering, and Leon has to admit, he’s always had a thing for office wear.

To your credit, you put up a good fight, a few more years of training and you would knock Leon flat onto his ass. That’s why he’s gotta save you while he can, girls shouldn’t get to that point. Especially not ones like you. “I’ll leave you alone, sweetheart, if you just give it to me once.” His lies are convincing, he takes your silence as consideration to his offer.

“Once,” You repeat, “Just once?”

“Just once.”

“I’ll bite it off.” You claim.

“Sure you will, babe.” Leon snickers, and because he’s Special Agent Kennedy, he gets his way. Through determination, blood, sweat, tears and a load of cum.

“Keep those on,” He tells you, nodding his head towards your heels as the two of you enter his apartment. “Take that off, and the skirt too.” Leon instructs, and you do as he says, “Good girl.”

He gives you a once over. Not bad. There’s always tweaks that could be made, while all women are beautiful to him, it comes natural to most, they could still be better. Perkier tits, shapely legs, nicer ass— Y’know, you could work on it.

“C’mere, cutie,” Leon pats his lap, begrudgingly you oblige, the mattress sinks with your combined weight. He snaps your bra strap, it pings back on your supple skin, then he reaches back to unhook it. Yeah, Leon can do it one go, you might not look impressed, but he knows you are deep down. “Look at that.” These tits, they have no room on the battlefield, seriously. He squeezes them, the fat spills past his fingers, the BSAA can’t be risking such valuable assets.

He can’t pinpoint your exact feelings, there’s irritation on your face, but when he lays you down, spreads you open, there’s a wet patch on your panties that’s telling of your true nature as a girl. It’s just primal instinct, right? Getting wet when there’s a handsome man groping you. “Aw, I told you we’d have fun, baby.” Leon takes your limp legs, tossing them over his shoulders, he slips your panties off, disappointment floods his system when he sees you’re not shaven bare. He’ll have to skip giving head then. Which is a shame, ‘cause most times it’s fun to see girls squirm on his tongue.

The pad of his thumb meets your clit, he dips downwards past your folds to gather some slick, smears it back over your bud. Part of him wants a taste, his fingers aren’t enough, Leon wants it straight from the source itself. Though it’s totally against his code of conduct, his tongue laves over your spread pussy once. He doesn’t let himself get carried away.

Instead, Leon opens you up around his fingers, scissors them into your tight hole to stretch you out. He keeps his thumb rubbing over your clit, he’s good at multitasking, and it’s the only thing that gets you whimpering, though most of it is muffled into your fist. He deems you wet enough, or he’s just very impatient, and it’s definitely the latter, Leon can admit it.

“You ready, babe?” Leon asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he slides into you, to the hilt, and raw. You let out a shuddering gasp as his cock knocks the fleshy opening of your cervix.

Then, you have the gall to ask, “Is it in yet, sir?” Despite the fact that you’re still trembling, shaken up by the sheer size of him. Leon can be humble, he knows it’s not that big, but for inexperienced little things like you it must be a real challenge. You take to it well, after the first few thrusts, the discomfort seems to fade, and your back arches against your will. A real cockslut born and bred.

He fills you up, fucks you like he wants to tear a hole through you, “You need to shut your mouth sometimes, sweetheart. I don’t know who raised you, but girls shouldn’t talk back like that.” Leon grips your jaw tight, forces it open so he can spit down your throat, much to his dismay you send the ball of spit hurtling back towards his face. He closes his eyes, hips stilling within you, then he brings his palm down on your cheek. It’s encouragement to behave.

You’re stunned, yelping sharply as he hits you once more, grinding deep into your wet cunt, the squelch gives you away. The way you’re sucking him in, like you’re a glutton for dick, how your hip bones smack into his each time you raise ‘em up— it's so clear you’re enjoying it. You like this, you like him, just needed a man to show you, to put you in your place.

Leon’s kind enough to keep pressing down on your bud, when he pulls out, your pussy clenched tight around the fat head of his cock, it begs him so sweetly to fill you up once more. He bottoms out, you jolt, legs slipping from his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. It’s then he’s reminded of your heels, they dig into his back, and your little hands come to rest on his ass to force him deeper and deeper, which Leon isn’t all that fond of, but you’re an unruly girl.

“Look how bad you want it.” Leon licks into your mouth, sucks on your tongue, “I knew it, baby, I knew you wanted it.” He drives his hips into you with such force, pussy gushing around him, your release trickles out of you with each thrust. “Messy girl.” He taunts, abdomen wet and his cock wetter.

You’re hit with aftershocks as he continues to pump into your sensitive pussy, clit twitching, he has enough sense to pull out. Leon isn’t an idiot. His cock rests heavy on your stomach, he urges you to take it in your hand, and you do. His hand wraps around yours, helps you jerk him off like you should’ve been glad to do in the restrooms earlier. “That’s it, you’re getting good at it, baby, you’re learning.” Leon’s load is sticky, shooting ropes of pearly white over your fingers, dripping down your wrist.

“Sir, this is it now, isn’t it?” You get down to business fast, acting like your pussy wasn’t springing a leak on his cock, “You’ll leave me alone now? If you don’t, I really will tell him, I will do something about it I swear on my fucking life.”

He says yes, but Leon is already thinking of what to send you next week. On Monday it might be a teddy bear, the ones that hold stuffed hearts in their stuffed arms. Tuesday, another bouquet, or a dress, a tight one that brings out your eyes. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, he has plenty of time to chase you again.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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poetry-protest-pornography · 6 months

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The way that they're talking about consent (in the midst of all the recording and dishonesty) is really interesting and important.

Last week, we had First and Soong doing a lot of roleplaying-- and First asking Soong why he didn't use his safe word if it hurt and Soong saying he liked the pain, and then there was aftercare.

This week, there was the whole really intense kidnapping scene, which required so much planning and discussion. And then later, there was the argument about Soong feeling pressured to perform and faking an orgasm, and First's reaction to that read to me like he was hurt that Soong wasn't honest with him, and shame that his desires were causing Soong stress. And mostly, horror at the idea that Soong wasn't an enthusiastic participant in their sex.

I feel like this is confirmed later, when we have this scene, where Soong uses his words, and First is genuinely distressed about their boundaries. (And in his talk with Zouey at the end, but more on that later)

If you've been with your partner for long enough -- or you're naturally observant/careful to pay attention-- yes, you can pick up on the difference between "into it but getting used to what's happening" and "not into it, this is Not Good", but as First points out later, the line between the two is blurry, and that's why safe words exist. So what Siong is asking for here isn't out of the question, but it isn't something that their relationship could manage at this point; they just don't know each other well enough.

And then, we have Teena and Zouey.

Zouey said he wanted to have sex with Teena, and Teena was a little dubious, but he just got that boyfriend title, and there was no way he wasn't going to take the chance to sleep with Zouey -- the boy is down bad. But, Teena is a smart cookie, and he's also experienced, so he establishes a safe word, rightfully anticipating that it would be a struggle for Zouey to let go and needing to know he was being safe and considerate (and sane and keeping it consensual).

It goes poorly, because Zouey protests, but doesn't use the safe word, so Teena pushes, thinking he's still within established boundaries

But Zouey isn't experienced, and when he gets uncomfortable he doesn't remember to use the word.

(And there was the whole "if we're going to be a couple, we're going to have to do it" bit, which I do believe Teena when he says that he misspoke, because he was so genuine when he said before that they didn't need to have sex, but that's a different post. But, at face value, this idea of "we're already halfway there, we shouldn't stop" is very much about consent and how and why safe words are important.

Discomfort and hesitation are natural parts of sexual experience, especially if it's new, and double especially if it's kinky. Having a word that means "Actually stop now, something's not working/is wrong" is vital to keeping you and your partner safe and feeling good physically and emotionally.)

This conversation with First and Zouey is so important.

They're both struggling with the idea that they've been involved in a sexual situation that veered into abusive, and they both need to hear what happened was actually bad communication.

And then, First wraps it up nicely, when he can see Zouey is struggling a little still.

I'm really impressed by how hard this show is pushing the importance of consent and safe sexual experimentation (especially when these discussions are held up against the not-sure-if-this-is-consensual things that are happening with Many, and with the definitely-not-consensual sex tape Captain made). It's very rare for conversations about sex and kink to be handled so well-- or to be shown at all, really.

Also, Zouey?

Please do, he looks like a kicked puppy.

#playboyy the series #safe sane consensual #consent is sexy

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milkpup · 5 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 2 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

previous chapter ♡ next chapter

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, aged up characters, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: formatting next chapter for tumblr! there are currently 4 posted on ao3. i have the 5th in the works! it gets spicy!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 2: Intimacy and Exposure

By mid afternoon, you and Megumi are both exhausted with your full course load. You both major in biology, no emphasis right now. Megumi loves animals, so he will probably pursue something veterinary later. As for you, you’re undecided. You chose biology because it’s very general and broad, and also so you could be with Megumi more. You would never tell him that, though. You just say “idk maybe some science-y crap” and shrug it off.

You weren’t able to get lunch, so you both decide to visit a coffee shop after your last class of the day. A snack and some caffeine would help get you through for a while until you decide what you want to eat that night.

Megumi orders his usual black cold brew and muffin. The barista asks how to spell his name, and giggles? Is she flirting with him?

“That’s a cute name…” She says as she writes it down on his cup. “And for you…?” She barely glances at you.

You’re not sure how you feel in that moment. Was she flirting with Gumi? Am I jealous? Why is my heart racing?

“Oh I’ll just get an iced black tea and a banana bread please.” You try to not show your emotions while speaking. You’re not sure why you feel this way though.

You hope and pray to whoever is out there, any deity listening, that Megumi would not see you blushing and jealous.

You think you’re in the clear, he didn’t notice. He drives you home and you scroll your phone, acting like everything is normal. In reality, you’re shaking.

Sitting around the table, you both have your laptops and books out in front of you. It’s been a couple hours of studying, and you’re ready to take a break.

“Gumi, can we take a break and watch something? If I read the word bacteria one more time I’m going to go insane.” You tell him more than ask, already getting up out of your seat. You’re yawning, walking straight towards your bedroom, not even bothering to wait up for him. You already know he will follow.

Your room is hyperfeminine, plushies everywhere, cute shit everywhere. But you also have a mix of other stuff, like your consoles and gaming setup (that Megumi helped you get), a bass guitar that you’ve barely touched, piles of books you haven’t sorted yet.

You turn the tv on, hopping onto your bed. Megumi follows and lies next to you. You’re already aware of his presence and he isn’t even touching you.

“What do you wanna watch, Gumi?” You ask as you scroll through different apps.

“Whatever you want, you have better taste in movies and shows.” He doesn’t really care, he just savors the opportunity to be close to you. He lies behind you, almost touching but not quite. He’s close enough to feel the tickle of your hair. He feels weird thinking that your hair smells nice.

You choose some random comedy show, not caring to pay any attention. You just wanted a chance to rest and turn your brain off for a while.

Megumi moves a little close, resting his hand on the side of your abdomen. This isn’t the first time you’ve been close to Megumi, you both used to cuddle under the same blanket on cold nights or huddle under one when playing games as kids. But for some reason, now it feels different. Maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware? It has to be that, right?

Your heart beats faster, your skin feeling warm to the touch with every movement he makes. Does he notice? Is he aware of these things too? Am I overthinking things?

An hour passes by, but it feels like an eternity. You’re so hyperaware that every second feels like 20 minutes have passed. He hasn’t done more than gently caress the side of your body. He doesn’t seem to be making any advances. So why is this so painful to endure? Why does a simple touch make your body feel hot, with something pooling in between your legs?

Megumi is aware. You think he isn’t, but he can tell. Your breathing is irregular, your pulse is uneven, your skin is hot. He notices, and it drives him insane. But he’s respectful, he wouldn’t try anything. You are basically siblings with how long you’ve known eachother and lived together.

It’s getting hard to breathe. Even the lightest touch sends jolts through your body. You turn around to meet his gaze, with a look he’s never seen before. Your face is red, you’re struggling to breathe, while looking into his eyes like you know his secret. He’s flushing too, starting to sweat, feeling heat spread through his body. Your eyes are intoxicating to Megumi.

He looks at your eyes, then your panting lips, and back to your eyes again. He’s thinking of everything he wants to do to you, he doesn’t care if it’s wrong.

He touches your cheek, caressing you gently. Your breath hitches as he’s so close to you. He runs his fingers down your neck, before he pushes you to your back. It’s not forceful by any means, but mostly surprising.

He’s on top of you, pinning your arms to your pink bedsheets as he leans down towards you.

“Y/N…” he breathlessly speaks, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

You definitely do not want it to stop. You’re staring up at him with your doe eyes, unable to control your breathing. He leans in closer, his face not even an inch away from yours.

His lips crash into yours. You’re surprised, you didn’t think he would be so intense, and this good at kissing. He’s biting your lip, trying to elicit little yelps and mewls from you. He’s kissing you so roughly, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. Megumi is still on top of you, pressing his body against yours.

You can feel his heartbeat, his hot skin, his bulge against your body. You don’t know why, but you lift your hips and legs up a bit to angle yourself better against his body. Feeling him so close, pressing into you was making you feel almost drunk.

He releases one of his hands from pinning yours so he can caress your cheek a bit more. His hand travels down your neck again, moving towards your chest, before eventually resting at the bottom hem of your shirt.

He’s giving you sloppy kisses, before he momentarily stops to ask you a question. “Y/N, can I?” he asks while gentle tugging on your shirt.

You giggle. He’s too damn cute. You nod your head yes and he releases your other hand.

You pull your shirt above your head, leaving your bralette on.

He looks down at your flushed frame, no longer hidden behind some random band t-shirt. The moment you take your shirt off, he’s harder than ever before. You feel him poking into you a bit.

He kisses you with more passion this time, grinding his bulge into your clothed cunt. He’s grunting and making little moans in between kisses.

He lifts his head a bit to look at you and moves his hand over your bralette. He admires the intricate lace detail, thinking it suits you perfectly. He licks his lips. You know he wants to desperately feel what’s under, but you decide to tease him a bit.

You wrap your legs around his waist, forcing your bodies to be even closer. He grunts a bit, looking at you. You smirk and pull his head back down to make out with you.

You’re grinding against him with fervor, unrelenting and unforgiving. The feeling of him rubbing against you is oh so good, and extremely hot.

He moves his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. “May I, Y/N?” You think it’s sweet that he asked. You decide to reward him a bit.

You roll him over and push him against the mattress. You quickly get up and pull your shorts off, leaving your panties on. You take your bralette off. He’s watching you like a starved dog, savoring every second of this.

You pull his sweatpants off, leaving only his boxers on. He’s looking at you, with wide eyes, excited and surprised.

You straddle his waist, sitting on top of him. You grind against him, eliciting sounds of pleasure from his lips. You lean towards him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, before leaving a trail down his neck. You suck on his skin, giving him small and faint lovebites. He looks so cute.

You have a suddenly devious idea. “Megumi, can I try something?”

He instantly nods yes; he wants you to do anything and everything with him.

“Lay down then, please. I want to try something I saw online once….” You say as you move towards his head. You’re hovering above him now. He’s directly at eyelevel with your clothed pussy, and he feels his boxers get tighter the closer you get.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, please <3.” You hum as you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto his face.

He can feel your drenched cunt against his mouth and instinctually starts getting at it. Licking and sucking like it was his last supper. Megumi couldn’t really breathe, but he didn’t care. He could die right now and have no regrets. He would die a happy man.

You moan as he’s sucking and flicking between your folds. The noises you make drive him even more insane, he thinks he could cum right then with how much of a turn on it is.

You lift yourself up, giving him a moment to catch his breath as you look down at him. He’s staring up at you with the eyes of an animal.

You sit back down, and he continues once more. Sucking on your clit, savoring the taste of your essence, and basically fucking the air. He’s straining against his boxers now, desperate for any touch or release.

You have another idea. You lift yourself back up and turn around, your cunt still in front of his face. You lean down towards his straining cock. You push your cunt back down on his face, and like a good boy, he continues again.

“Fuck Megumi…” You whimper out as you push against his tongue. You move your hand over his boxers, palming his cock. You notice he’s quite big and you’re a little scared.

You release his cock from his underwear and it springs up. Megumi grunts under your touch. You stroke his cock a bit, slowly. That’s not your objective however.

You lift up once more as you move to spit on top of his cock. Megumi moans again, feeling the sensation of your spit covering the head of his cock.

You sloppily kiss the tip, earning a moan and a few curses from Megumi. “Fuck… Y/N.”

You move forward to suck the tip, before letting it come out with an audible pop sound. “You have hands too, Megumi…”

Your pussy is still in front of him, and he gently moves his hand to brush over your clit, circling it. You moan as you take him back into your mouth again. You’re desperately hoping this feels good, it’s your first time doing any of it.

Megumi pushes his index finger in, noticing how wet and tight your cunt already is. He’s salivating at the thought of when he can fuck your tight hole, but he’s content with just learning your body for now. Everytime he pumps his finger in and out, he hears your sweet, angelic voice.

The way you respond to his touch is music to your ears. Your mewls and whimpers drive him crazy enough already.

You take his cock back in your mouth, trying to push more in as he fucks you with his finger. He adds another of his slender fingers inside, feeling how he’s stretching you already. You moan around his cock, and this turns Megumi on more.

He moves to push you against the bed again, pushing your body down gently. He never breaks contact with your cunt, as he starts to fingerfuck you even harder. He’s watching you squirm and moan under his touch, and he can’t get enough of it.

“Megumi… Aah!!” His touch is relentless. He wants to hear every sound you can possibly make. He finger fucks you harder, feelings your walls clamp around his fingers. He uses his other hand to rub circles around your clit. You’re nearing your climax, and he’s eager to see all of it.

You’re drunk in the pleasure that is Megumi’s skilled fingers. He brings you to the edge, watching as pleasure washes over your entire body. He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wanting to savor your juices all while never breaking eye contact with you.

Your chest is heaving, but you want to make this man feel good too. You roll over and crawl across the bed towards him. He sits atop the bed once more, spreading his legs open and smirking.

The way you’re crawling towards him is incredibly hot. He knows what you’re about to do.

You make your way to his cock, spitting on it once more and stroking it a bit. You know you can’t fit all of this beast, but you want to try your hardest.

You look up at him as you take his cock into your mouth. You make it about halfway before you feel at your limit.

“Y/N, you’re taking me so well. You’re such a good girl,” he praises you as you drool over his cock. He gently grabs your hair, not tugging but mostly just applying pressure.

Your pussy drips again at the praise as you continue to go up and down. You’re finding a rhythm to breathe and still go at a decent pace. Using your hands also helps, and whenever you fondle his balls, Megumi’s eyes roll back into his head a bit.

“Y/N.. I’m close..” He says as he bucks his hips against your mouth. “Please.. don’t stop..”

You suck harder and moan against his cock. You don’t particularly like the idea of cum in your mouth, but for Megumi, you would do it.

He covers the back of your throat with his cum, and groans as you empty his balls like an expert. “Y/N… fuck…”

You pull back up, trying to not show how displeased you are with the taste of cum.

“That was… fuck…” He lets out an exhausted sigh. “Fucking… amazing…”

You’re laying down together again, not even caring to get dressed again. The studying can wait for later, for now you want to relish this moment.

You’re not sure what this means between you two, but you’re still happy that it happened. You yawn as he snuggles around you as the big spoon, surrounding by the same fuzzy blanket and cute plushies.

He thinks it’s so cute how tired you get after that. He lays there as you fall asleep before him, memorizing and tracing every detail of your body.

Toji comes home not long after Megumi finally passes out. He doesn’t see food on the table, and goes to check your room. He sees you and Megumi, asleep under your fuzzy pink comforter.

‹𝟹 notes: i will have the next chapter posted here asap :D feedback is always appreciated! ao3 has all the chapters so far!

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(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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archie-sunshine · 6 months

Text

Survey Says-!(Rodimus/EVERYONE)

Chapter 2: Feel The Beat(Rodimus/Blaster)

Rodimus is NOT bitter about the results of the crew satisfaction survey, in fact, he’s fully prepared to change! He’s determined to change his crew’s minds, and what better way to do so than to get to know them- in the carnal sense that is.

There are no problems with this plan in Rodimus’s mind. There are many in Ultra Magnus’s. Magnus engages in some unfortunate(for Rodimus) damage control as head of Cybertronian Resources. Rodimus is not easily deterred.

Chapter 1 Here! Read on AO3 here!

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FIC TAGS: Rodimus/Everyone(But y’know, not like. EVERYONE. Just a lot of various background characters and also more specifically with some others), Takes place post dark cybertron, but pre the whole ship disappearing thing and the mutiny, smut, Chastity, denial, Rodimus is a slut, Ongoing humiliation, HR Violations as comedy, Ultra Magnus is clueless, sticky sexual interfacing, comedy, sexual comedy, dubious consent (if you squint and tilt your head), contains illustrations

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Authors notes: I didnt know blaster very well before writing this, i watched some of the old g1 cartoon funnily enough, and it turns out blaster is a cutie pie and i love him actually?? beautiful boombox boy

CHAPTER TAGS: Rodimus/Blaster(implied rodimus/huffer, crosscut, kindle, siren, and rad), oral, blowjobs, sexual frustration, blaster's servos can vibrate, the most painful nut ever, rodimus continues to make bad decisions

Ultra Magnus’s little magnetizer trick had been dirty, underhanded, cruel, unusual, and downright sadistic(from a certain point of view). But it was also stupid, considering that as long as Rodimus still had one hole, by primus he was gonna use it.

The only thing this horrible device had managed to do was shorten his one on ones. He was still going to give his beloved crew the helm of a lifetime, but without having to worry about chasing his own edge, it meant Rodimus was more inclined to get things done quicker. He had managed to check Siren, Huffer, Crosscut, Kindle, and Rad off his list in the two cycles following the incident, however there were some… adverse effects that these meetings were having on him.

It was hard not to get at least a little bit excited when giving helm, and that became an issue in and of itself, as Rodimus’s array had started complaining more and more as he continued to deny its release.

Rodimus stalked down the ship's hallway, faceplate set in a frustrated scowl as he made his way back towards his office. He felt like he was walking with a limp, which would have been fun and sexy if he was limping because he’d been spiked silly, but instead was infuriating… because he was limping from having to walk with a stupid fragging magnetizer attached to his overheated panels.

The captain absently swiped at his intake, making sure there were no traces of transfluid still there from his ‘meeting’ with Rad. He was a bit shy, considering the captain’s ongoing predicament, but still managed to get a good overload in from the deal. It was getting harder for Rodimus to focus when he was giving out his one on ones, it felt like every encounter added new, angrier popups in his processor screeching for him to overload. His helm was swimming by the time he’d felt Rad finish, and it had taken the bot grabbing him by his finials and dragging him off to bring him back to reality.

So there he was, pouting his way to his office, manually dismissing every one of the popups in his processor to clear his mind so he could think again. He entered the access code, cursing as he flubbed the code the first time and stormed in, letting the door close behind him. He flopped into his chair with an exhausted groan. He eyed the stack of datapads on his desk that he had been instructed to fill out and sign. They were supply manifests… he thought. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to what Ultra Magnus was saying that morning as he’d been considering the unpleasant flavour the aftertaste of transfluid in his mouth made when mixed with his morning energon. Gross. Rodimus chuckled to himself at the thought. Primus, that was fragging disgusting, he was fragging disgusting. He smirked to himself.

He reached across the desk and tapped at the first datapad, propping his legs up as he began the daily slog through datawork. He let his optics go into skimming mode as he scrolled halfheartedly through the document. He had gathered it was some list of acquisition requests that the crew members had personally made, so he began signing off his approval.

A new shipment of high quality engex for swerve’s… approved

A bulk order of plating patches for the medibay… approved

A set of high quality wrenches for Brainstorm’s laboratory… approved

Rodimus shifted around a bit in his chair.

A blank datapad shipment… approved

Replacement parts for the staff room vending machine that Megatron had accidentally broken… approved

It was impossible to get comfortable, he felt overheated without even being particularly aroused.

A palette of hover scooters… denied

Rodimus froze. He set the datapad down and glanced between his thighs. His faceplate flared hot with embarrassment. He was fragging leaking.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t started doing so before he made it to his office, but all the same, around the edges of his panels he could see prefluid seeping out, making the tiniest little puddle on his chair. Rodimus let out a long, frustrated groan, letting his helm thunk against the back of his chair. This was humiliating. He reached for one of his drawers and plucked out a rag, quickly swiping at his panels and the seat before stuffing it under himself and getting back to work.

Ping! Another popup at the front of his mind ‘Open Interface Array?’

He closed the popup. It wasn’t his fault he was in this mess! He was just trying to show a little gratitude for his crew! Some.. sloppy, sticky gratitude, but gratitude nonetheless. Interface was different now, it was purely a means to making his apologetic feelings known, letting people know he really could change. He’d do anything his crew wanted for their approval.

He swallowed thickly. Anything they wanted… He recalled the servos gripping at his helm, the weight of a spike in his intake or the smooth mesh of a valve under his glossa. Oral was easy, Rodimus had plenty of time to practice in the washracks and supply closets of various barracks during the war. But this fuzzy, syrupy slowness that accompanied the denial of his own overload was something… new.

He felt his fans starting to kick on. He willed them up higher, trying to blow off as much of the excess heat as he could. He refocused on the requests on his datapad.

A new set of parts for one of the busted replicators… approved

A bulk order of glassware for the canteen… approved

… the rag was getting soaked.

Rodimus slammed down his datapad and stood up. He quickly scanned through his itinerary for the day, confirming he had an hour and a half free before his meeting with the comms officer, before wiping up any visible prefluid around his panels and beginning to speedwalk towards the medibay.

“What do you MEAN you can’t do it!!?” Rodimus shouted. He sat up a bit from the slab, only to get a firm servo on his chassis pushing him back down. “You’re Ratchet!”

“I didn’t say can’t, I said won’t, Rodimus.” Ratchet sighed out in exasperation.

“B-but it huuuuurts, I’m dying here, I can feel my spark about to go out!!” Rodimus whined, rolling his helm back.

“I know thats a lie, Rodimus, any discomfort you’re feeling is perfectly normal with a device like this, and I’ve received direct orders not to take it off without dire circumstances or reasons to do so.” Ratchet sounded like he was reciting something, it was likely that he was, considering who was the mastermind behind this whole wicked scheme.

“Direct orders that I as captain-” Rodimus began.

“Co-Captain.”

“WHATEVER! I outrank Ultra Magnus, I should be able to make those orders completely moot, right!?” Rodimus stared pleadingly at Ratchet, searching for some ounce of sympathy in his field.

Ratchet bit back a smug grin. “Not in cases surrounding Cybertronian Resourses violations. I’m afraid you’re stuck with that until Magnus decides otherwise.”

Rodimus let out a pitiful moan, going limp against the slab. “I’m gonna die…” He whimpered.

“You know, as your doctor I would suggest that you find other outlets for mitigating this sexual frustration. Try to focus on your work, get a hobby, something to take your mind off interfacing until you get the clamp off you.” Ratchet began, carefully reaching down to swipe away the excess prefluid that had gathered around Rodimus’s panels during their appointment. Rodimus bit back a desperate moan. “But as someone who knows you, I understand that’s not exactly something you’re going to be able to stop yourself from doing. So I’ll prescribe you some coolant accelerators and hope for the best.” The medic offered an insincere, borderline malicious smile and helped Rodimus off of the slab.

Rodimus glared daggers at Ratchet, clenching his servos. He let his processor wander, wondering if he could convince First Aid to help him out.

“And I wouldn’t get any ideas about begging for help from the crew.” Ratchet had turned away, now gazing at a datapad and beginning to flick through it. “Ultra Magnus sent out a memo to the crew’s comms to let them know any interference with your ‘reeducation’ would be considered grounds for a week in the brig.”

Rodimus growled again. “... thanks doc, always a pleasure…”

“So, just to be clear, theres nothing at all?” Rodimus asked, leaning helm on his servo.

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothin’ at all, but radio signals have gotten sparse now that we’re back on our way, no urgent notices from Cybertron, some minor radio chatter from ships we’ve passed, but nothing terribly concerning.” Blaster explained, turning his datapad to indicate the waves coming in.

Rodimus nodded inquisitively, shifting again in his seat. “Cool, thats good news, thanks Blaster.” Rodimus said.

“... Yeah…” Blaster said slowly, looking the captain up and down for a moment. Rodimus squeezed his crossed legs a bit. “Listen, cap, I gotta say, uh… I heard about the whole… Ultra Magnus… CR violations… thing.” He said awkwardly, glancing away.

“...Yeah. It’s not a big deal, I gotta learn to be professional.” Rodimus gritted out, failing to hide his adverse feelings on the whole matter. He was fighting to keep his field to himself, but it was clear that Blaster was seeing through it.

“I did also hear about your… one on ones.” Blaster lowered his voice, putting the datapad away in his subspace.

Rodimus perked up. “Yeah?”

“Well- Yeah, obviously, Roddy, you sent a comm to the whole crew about it.” Blaster chuckled.

“The whole crew- except for Megatron and Ultra Magnus.” Rodimus corrected.

“Yeah, listen man… I dunno if I agree with the whole thing Mags cooked up, I dunno if its the best like… plan? On your part, to go around slingin your array at whoever’ll take it…” Blaster glanced around bashfully.

Rodimus frowned. “Where are you going with this?”

“I mean you gotta know that actions speak louder than words, you gotta show the crew that you’re on their side, that you do stuff for their benefit, all that stuff- but!” Blaster kicked one of his pedes a bit. “Y’know, I wouldn’t say no to ah… what was it you called it? An ‘apology’?”

Rodimus perked up again, slowly standing up from his chair. “Oh yeah?” Rodimus remembered the rag he’d stuffed on the seat and quickly snatched it up, covertly tossing it into one of his drawers while Blaster wasn’t looking. “Sure, I’d be happy to- Wait- You gotta promise me this isn’t a test or anything, like- Mags didn’t put you up to this did he?”

Blaster shook his helm, expression melting into an easy-if slightly relieved- smile. “Nah- I figured you’d still be at this whole thing… heard some intel from some other bots… wanted to see if you’re all you’re cracked up to be.”

Rodimus quickly denied his fans request to turn on, clearing his vocalizer. “Well, I guess I got time between my meetings… Have a seat.” He said, gesturing to his desk chair.

Rodimus eagerly rushed to the office door, punching in the locking code as Blaster sat down. A lance of embarrassment struck through him as Blaster made a surprised noise.

“Primus, Rod, you uh- heh- you a little worked up there?” His Comms officer chuckled. “Your seat’s a bit sticky-”

“ITS NOTHING!” Rodimus bleated out, face flaring as he trotted over and knelt down between Blaster’s thighs. “Just- just coolant, nothing else.”

“Yeah, sure.” Blaster smirked, rubbing a servo over his own panels. “You’re sure you’re up to this, pal?”

“‘Course I am, c’mon, we both got places to be.” Rodimus hissed impatiently.

Blaster shrugged, exhaling a little chuckle before letting his panels open. Rodimus let out a relieved sigh at the sight of it, running a digit gently around the edge of his slowly pressurizing spike. It was that sleek, warm grey colour along the underside, red on the top all the way up to a yellow tip, with little triangular yellow biolights along the underside. Rodimus licked his dermas, letting his optics dim a bit. He almost went for it, before remembering what all these apologies were about.

“So, Blaster, how do you want me?” Rodimus asked pleasantly, fighting to keep his voice from sounding too desperate. His optics flickered a bit when Blaster’s servo came around to rest gently on the side of his helm.

“I’d love to get my spike in that mouth and see you work your magic, Cap…” Blaster breathed, letting his digits trace the edge of Rodimus’s lower finials. Rodimus’s fans kicked on without thinking.

“A-” Rodimus cleared his vocalizer. “Alright, heard and listened to!” Rodimus said, allowing himself a pang of pride at his line usage when Blaster’s vents stuttered. He opened his intake, lolling his glossa out to lave over the tip of Blaster’s spike. Offlining his optics, he wrapped his dermas around the shaft, slowly bobbing his helm downwards towards the base. He laved his glossa slowly over the ridges and edges of Blaster’s biolights, allowing himself a moment to feel at the smooth texture of them. Rodimus hummed quietly as he worked, taking the spike two thirds down before leaning his helm back and drawing it slowly up to the tip.

Blaster let out a low, pleased moan, his thumb rubbing fondly at the side of Rodimus’s helm. “Ahhh, thats it… hah, you must be pretty glad you got sparked with an intake like this, huh?”

Rodimus hummed lightly in confirmation, peeking up at Blaster coquettishly as he rubbed the tip of his glossa over the comms officer’s spikehead. A shudder wracked through Rodimus’s frame as the other mech moaned, low and deep in his chassis. He felt a lick of Blaster’s charge ground through him and tightened his grip on Blaster’s thighs. He started pumping his helm up and down, darting his glossa out against the underside of his spike and swallowing the growing flow of prefluid where it pooled at the back of his intake. Rodimus brought one of his servos up, wrapping around the base gently as he massaged the soft protoform there.

Suddenly, Blaster’s grip on his helm shifted, now grasping the back of his helm and dragging him down further. Rodimus felt his optics glitch and reset, his gaze flicking up to the larger bot’s face. There was hunger in Blaster’s optics, deep and carnal, held back by a thin, fraying thread of propriety.

Rodimus’s processor produced several popups at once, warning him of an obtrusion squeezing down his throat, demanding he open his panels, informing him his fans were working hard to stave off overheat. Rodimus gagged, feeling his optics glitch again, bits of charge fritzing over the bridge of his nose between them. He fought back as much control as he could, beginning to close out the popups. He was swiftly interrupted when Blaster’s spikehead slid readily back into his throat and his nose brushed against his panels. Rodimus let out a muffled whine.

“Ah.. attabot, frag…” Blaster licked his dermas, a curl of steam escaping his lustful smile. “You take it so well, cap…”

Rodimus’s processor screamed, overfilling with warnings and demands. That ounce of praise rocked him to his core, drawing a pitiful, staticky whimper from his vocalizer. He dragged his glossa frantically against whatever part of his spike he could reach. A bubble of intake lubricant dribbled down his jaw. He could feel his frame shivering with charge. What was happening to him? Giving helm had never had him this worked up before.

Rodimus swallowed and began to move his helm again, relishing the slippery, undignified noises that filled the room. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks against Blaster’s shaft and earning another punched out groan. He could feel him start to twitch in his intake and moaned in anticipation. Blaster’s other servo reached down, curling around one of his finials as his hips began to stutter.

“Ah- Primus- frag-! Roddy-” He gasped, his fans roaring. Rodimus strained to pull his helm back, focusing all his attention on Blaster’s tip. With a glitchy, choked out groan, Rodimus felt transfluid hitting the roof of his intake. He greedily swallowed down what he could, gasping in surprise as it escaped his dermas. Rodimus felt as though he was about to overheat watching Blaster stroke his spike, splatters of his transfluid hitting his helm and faceplate.

Rodimus panted, fighting to close out the dozens of popups clouding his processor. He laid his messy helm against Blaster’s thigh, trying to get his vents under control. He could already feel his panels were overheated and embarrassingly sticky with excess prefluid. He absently pawed at the plating there, drawing his servo back with a pained hiss.

“... Whoooooh….” Blaster breathed, clearing his vocalizer and sitting up a bit. “That was quite the show, captain, thanks..” He chuckled. “Oh- uh… sorry for- er..” He gestured generally at his face.

“‘S fine… h..how would you rate uh… your…” Rodimus mumbled blearily. He noted Blaster was rummaging around his desk, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He offlined his optics and relished the feeling of a cool rag swiping the transfluid off his face and finials.

“It was great, Roddy, thanks for helpin me blow off some steam.” Blaster murmured. Rodimus could feel the warmth in his voice and swelled with unfocused pride. He drank in the relaxation and fondness in Blaster’s field, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

“Happy to help…” Rodimus wheezed hoarsely. He shakily got up off the ground, wincing as a thick drizzle of prefluid dripped from his panels. When he onlined his optics again, he was greeted with Blaster’s pitying look, optics focused between the captain’s legs. “D-don’t worry about me!” Rodimus said, attempting a confident and chipper tone, but unable to force the strain completely from his voice. “This was all for you, Blaster, see, I’m all about listening to my crew and rewarding their efforts.”

Blaster chuckled. “Yeah, thanks cap.” He slowly rose from Rodimus’s seat, closing his panels up. “Just hate to leave a bot hanging, is all.”

Please don’t leave me like this. Rodimus thought. Please don’t let me die of overheating.

“Nah- Not much either of us can do about it anyhow.” Rodimus waved a dismissive servo.

“On the contrary, actually… at least- I think?” Blaster offered. “I dunno about getting that thing off you, but I bet I could get you an overload at least?”

Rodimus’s intake felt dry. “... huh?”

Blaster smirked, sitting back down in the chair. He patted his lap. “C’mere.”

Rodimus shifted uncomfortably, climbing backwards into Blaster’s lap and leaning against the other bot’s chassis. He shivered at Blaster’s servos on him, one wrapping around his slender waist to hold him in place while the other delicately hovered over his panels.

“Might be a bit intense, okay? Just hold on and let me know if you want me to stop.” Blaster warned, finally bringing his digits down to hold Rodimus’s overheated panels.

“J-just do it, please-!” Rodimus gritted out through a whine.

Rodimus’s optics fritzed and rebooted at the first sensations of vibration on his panels. He let out a loud, surprised moan, half cutting out with static as the oversensitive protoform below his panels seared with pleasure. The vibration was intense, just dancing on the line of painful and pleasurable, heady and bassy and rocking him to his very core.

“Feel good, cap?” Blaster asked.

“Aa-auhuh!!” Rodimus answered intelligently, bucking his hips against Blaster’s hand. His vocalizer felt raw, his voice breaking and cracking as he moaned out.

“Keep it down- someone’s gonna hear!” Blaster hissed, upping the vibration as he did and forcing another desperate cry from Rodimus’s vocalizer. Rodimus’s optics glitched and flared as Blaster clamped a servo over his intake, silencing him only partly as he writhed and bucked in his lap.

It was starting to hurt now, his processor more full and garbled than ever as his array pulsed and throbbed in need. His optics flickered. Drool bubbled between Blaster’s digits. He could feel every bit of his plating searing against Blaster’s.

Rodimus let out a pitiful, needy sob as the other mech’s servo squeezed his panels down tighter against his array. He was practically humping Blaster’s servo at this point, chasing that painful, burning edge as he dumbly whined into his digits.

(go to my AO3 for the illustrated version)

Blaster kicked the vibrations up one more notch and Rodimus saw white. He was dying, he was crashing, he was overloading- Rodimus’s frame arched back, strung taught as a bowstring as transfluid poured from the seams in his panels messily over the magnetizer and Blaster’s digits. He shuddered and bucked and twitched as Blaster drew his servo back, curling back over on himself and grabbing the edge of his desk. Blaster carefully released his faceplate, a string of drool sloppily escaping his dermas as he let out one final, broken moan.

Rodimus curled his hips forwards, drawing the desk chair in against the desk so he could rest his helm against it. His array ached, now sloppy and coated with his own transfluid beneath his panels. He could feel himself leaking copiously onto his chair, embarrassment pooling in his tanks as he heard it dribble off the edge of the seat and onto the floor.

“Th… thanks Blaster…” Rodimus mumbled brokenly.

Blaster patted his aft gently, carefully lifting the captain up enough to slip out from under him. “No worries, captain.” Rodimus felt a half wet rag hit his panels and hissed in discomfort. He let out a stringy whine as Blaster cleaned him and the seat up, leaving the rag on the arm of his chair.

Rodimus lifted his helm up, watching Blaster unlock the door. “Keep up the good work!” He called after him, earning a laugh as Blaster walked off down the hallway.

Rodimus sat back, examining the state of himself. That was truly the most painful overload he had ever had.

…

He didn’t like how good that notion felt in his processor.

He didn’t like how good the overload had felt either.

“... This had better not awaken anything in me.” Rodimus muttered, before shakily reaching for another datapad to work on.

#transformers #my art #my fic #maccadam #transformers mtmte #rodimus #blaster #ratchet #valveplug #/nsfw #blaster/rodimus #VERY stupid fic #i love writing fics that are dumb #smut

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bloodredfountainpen · 5 days

Text

The Gift

3.1 k words

Preparing to take the plunge into whump for @juneofdoom , these blorbos aught to serve my purposes well. My very first official whump piece, I hope it’s not absolute trash lol.

Contains/CW: bbu adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, caretaker new master, referenced past abuse, mention of noncon body modification, brief mention of whipping and resulting scars, brief nudity (non-sexual), nonhuman whumpee (kinda), self hatred of one’s body, brainwashed whumpee, morally dubious caretaker, accidental bad caretaker (Anthony has no tact), fear of torture/punishment, self dehumanization, self deprecation (both verbal and in thought), begging for mercy (granted)

Ella, if you’re actually reading this, please for the love of God don’t skim over the CWs, they’re really important! Also, and I know you already know this about me, but none of this is a sex thing no matter how bad it looks. I am a sadist, but not that kind of sadist.

I know that’s a lot, but I promise it’s not as bad as its sounds 😭, but lmk if I missed anything.

Premise: Anthony, a young man living alone who is generally ambivalent to the practice of keeping Pets, is suddenly gifted a dog boy that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

(Pet capital P = a person who has signed away their personhood to ModiPets Inc and is now legally an animal, usually physically modified to take on animal characteristics, hence the ‘modi’ part. pet lowercase p = the standard definition of the word.)

————————————————————————————

Anthony liked living alone. That simple fact frustrated his mother to no end, which, he suspected, was the reason that there were two MP employees at his door asking him to sign for a Pet. Now, Anthony never really knew what to think of the whole Pet thing. Sure, they had their memories wiped and were dumber now, and sure they had consented beforehand, he just still couldn’t see himself ever owning one. Besides that, he didn’t know what he would do with a whole other person in his house. He had the space for it, sure, but as an introvert by nature, the thought exhausted him just thinking about it. Still, he knew that refusing to sign and sending the package back to wherever it came from would earn his mother’s ire and probably prompt a visit, which he wanted to avoid at all cost. And so, he signed. He hoped he would not come to regret it.

The employees helped him drag the box into his living room, and before they took their leave, they handed him a copy of the proof of delivery form. The form specified that the Pet was a hybrid Guard Dog/Platonic type with Level 2 Canine Modification and one previous owner. He hoped whatever was wrong with them to make their previous owner send them back had been fixed. He hoped that the ‘Platonic’ bit meant that the thing wasn’t feral. He hoped that the Pet hadn’t been modified to be too canine, since Anthony rather hated dogs. So many hopes for the Pet; Anthony felt kinda bad for expecting so much when he hadn’t even met them yet.

Also in this form, under the ‘other instructions/messages’ section, there was a note:

Happy belated birthday sweetie! I know this is a bit extravagant, especially along with the rest of your presents, but it was on sale and I couldn’t resist! You know how I worry about your safety, living on your own in the big city. This good little guard doggie aught to keep you safe and keep you company in that lonely apartment of yours.

Just like he thought; his mother’s meddling had once again inconvenienced him. Anthony scrunched the form out of frustration, before gingerly smoothing it out and sticking it in his kitchen junk drawer, reasoning that he might need it later.

Cautiously, he approached the box, and began to open it.

———————————————————————

Light streamed into G-22985’s box. This was it, he thought, this was the moment of truth. He had spent his entire time retraining waiting for the day when he would finally have a new Master to protect, a second chance, and now that was coming true. He couldn’t wait to have nice grass or dirt to sleep on, to be fed again after days in transit. He really hoped that he would be good enough to earn all that. After all, he didn’t deserve anything that he hadn’t earned. More so, he couldn’t wait to defend Master from any and all harm. If I guard Master well, he thought, then Master might keep me around this time.

He knew better than to look at Master’s face, and so he kept his gaze fixed on a point on the wall of the box, even as Master looked him over, scanning his body. Assessing his worth, he assumed. He wanted Master to think well of him, and that was a scary feeling. He knew he wasn’t supposed to want, that’s the reason Master Liam had sent him away, but this was different, because it was for Master’s sake and not his own selfishness.

After what was really only half a second, but seemed like hours to G-22985, Master turned away and exclaimed, “Oh god, you’re naked! Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I’ll go grab some clothes. Wait right there,” and with that, Master left. Having received his first order, G-22985 excitedly stayed put in the box, or at least he hoped dearly that that’s what Master had told him to do. He thought he might have heard Master wrong, because he seemed to have apologized to G-22985, and people don’t apologize to Pets. Even so, he stayed where Master had (probably) told him to. If he was wrong, he would be punished, and then he would know.

G-22985’s heart broke that his body was so revolting to Master. Pets don’t wear clothes, so if Master wanted him to, there must have been something really disgusting about him to be covered up. He had the sickening feeling that the whipping scars Old Master had given him hadn’t faded as much as he thought. He often wished that those scars would disappear altogether, though he knew they never would. He wished he could forget everything about Old Master, really, every curse ever shouted at him, every bit of pain caused to him. More than that, he wished to be good for New Master, wished so badly it hurt. This body belongs to Master, he reminded himself, whatever Master wants to do to me, he has that absolute right.

———————————————————————

Anthony’s heart was beating out of his chest as he rummaged through his closet looking for something the might fit the Pet. From the split second looked he’d got at him, Anthony estimated that the Pet was maybe a few inches taller than him, but significantly skinnier and yet somehow more muscular. With that in mind, he selected a soft hoodie and pair of sweatpants, his cheecks turning red with guilt at having looked at another man nude without his permission, and also embarrassment that he’d found the Pet attractive. Did that technically make Anthony a zoophile? He didn’t think so.

He hurried back to the Pet, tossing the clothes into the box while turned away, and nearly shouted, “Put these on! It’s ok, I’m not looking.”

He heard the sound of cloth shuffling, which quelled after around a minute. “Are you done? You can come out of the box if you’re done,” Anthony said, throwing the sound over his shoulder. He heard the Pet stumble out of the box, and turned to face him, only to find the Pet kneeling with his head to the ground. Anthony sighed.

“Would you mind standing up? I want to get a look at you,” he asked, trying his best not to let his frustration show. He would rather be doing literally anything else right now, but that wasn’t the pup’s fault. The Pet seemed to tremble for a moment, before scrambling to its feet. Anthony looked him up and down, finding he was correct in his estimation of the Pet’s height. The Pet’s pitch black hair had been buzzed short, and of course, a thin white collar had been fastened around his neck. Sitting atop his head were a pair of fluffy dog ears, those of a German Shepherd, if he were to speculate on breed, and the outline of a tail stuffed down one leg of the pants was visible. The sides of the Pet’s head, where his human ears would normally be, was smoothed over and covered by hair. How intriguing.

It bothered Anthony that the Pet still kept his head bowed, so after taking a moment to gather his courage, he took the Pet by his chin and tilted his head foreword, but the Pet flinched and his eyes remained squeezed shut. Anthony quietly commanded him, “Look me in the eyes.”

———————————————————————

G-22985 flinched as Master grabbed his chin. He knew he wasn’t supposed to react negatively to Master’s touch, so he braced for a strike to correct his error, but no such strike came. He mentally scolded himself, since the Handlers weren’t around to do it: Bad Pet! You’re a worthless excuse for a Pet! You’d better hope Master doesn’t send you back for being so useless! You’re nothing but a defective disappointment!

As much as G-22985 hated to think of himself that way, he knew that he had to remind himself somehow. He always had a hard time remembering his place, thinking he was a person, sometimes even trying to escape. I tried to escape from Master Liam, and look where that got me. Refurbished and resold, like an object. He didn’t know why the thought of being an object made him so mad; that’s what he was, after all. He knew he probably needed more retraining, because even after the Trainers had taught him how to be good again, he had only been at this new place for a little while already been bad! What a disgrace of a Pet he was.

He shut his eyes tight as Master tilted G-22985’s chin upwards, he didn’t want to accidentally look at Master’s face.

“Look me in the eyes,” Master ordered him, but that was bad! He was never to look Master in the face, never mind the eyes! But, Master had commanded, and he had to obey Master’s commands.

Making up his dumb Pet mind, he reluctantly obeyed and looked into Master’s eyes. Instead of the coldness, anger, or blow to the face that he was expecting, he saw an analysis that he recognized. Master was studying him, which was good as far as G-22985 was concerned, it meant that Master hadn’t made up his mind yet. It meant that maybe he still had a chance to be good.

———————————————————————

God, the Pet was even hotter up close. Anthony felt extremely wrong for thinking that, but it was true. The Pet’s deep brown eyes captivated him, so full of fear. He made note of a scar on the Pet’s lips, a small vertical line which started above the top lip and finished below the bottom lip. Considering everything that Pets went through for their training, it was a miracle that that was the only defect. He suddenly didn’t think he could bring himself to treat the Pet like, well, a pet. Which raised the question: what in the world was he going to do with him? He certainly couldn’t send him back, both for fear of his mother, and for fear for the Pet’s safety.

Anthony broke eye contact and removed his hand from the Pet’s chin, causing the Pet to fall back to his prostrated position. Anthony chuckled under his breath at the Pet’s ridiculous display, causing the Pet to flinch, and Anthony to recognize his mistake immediately. “I’m gonna order Pizza for dinner. You can eat Pizza, right?” he asked, making an effort to be gentle.

“Whatever pleases you, Master,” the Pet said automatically. This unnerved Anthony, but he didn’t have the energy to address it right then. Whatever conditioning the Pet was under, Anthony wasn’t even sure it was his place to undo it. The Pet had signed up for it, so clearly he wanted to be like that. Though he supposed that the Pet belonged to him now, so he could do whatever he wanted with him.

That thought sent a pang through Anthony’s chest as he looked down to the Pet, kneeling loyally on the floor before him, not daring to raise his head.

“Listen, you can sit on the couch until the Pizza gets here, ok?” he told the Pet, not really expecting an answer, but surprisingly, the Pet’s trembling voice quietly rose from below. It was a pitiful sound, like a scared dog during a thunderstorm.

Anthony didn’t know what to do, he wanted to comfort the Pet, but how? How in the world does one comfort a person they a) just met, and b) literally own? He supposed that, if the Pet had been trained to act like an animal, maybe petting him would work. And so, as much as he was dying of embarrassment to do so, Anthony crouched down and caressed the Pet across his head, finding his hair (fur?) quite soft and pleasant to the touch.

———————————————————————

G-22985 couldn’t take it anymore. Yet again, Master had ordered him to behave as a person rather than a Pet, and yet again, memories of his time in training flashed through his mind. Memories of electricity coursing through his neck, memories of his Handlers’ voices in his newly sensitive ears. He remembered a lesson he had, one of the first he had ever been taught, that he was never to sit on furniture because furniture is for people, and he was just a lowly Pet. He remembered being beaten within an inch of his worthless life when he had forgotten this rule while serving Old Master, he could have sworn he could still feel the blows land even months later. He just couldn’t bring himself to break that rule again. But still, Master had ordered him, and he couldn’t disobey Master. Old Master had given him double binds like this too, and he hadn’t known what to do then. Now he knew though, he also knew he was being a coward, not able to take a beating like a good Pet should. He just couldn’t bring its body to move, knowing what was coming. He was being so bad! Bad, bad, bad, bad…

G-22985 didn’t realize he had been whimpering until Master crouched down and touched his hair, petting him right between his ears. He was glad, he finally had the opportunity to be good. He leaned into the touch, careful not to deviate from his position while still demonstrating the required level of appreciation for Master’s affection.

He felt good to be touched kindly after his intense refurbishing. He dared to think that maybe he would be ok here, if Master was touching him like that. This meant that Master wanted a pet and not just a guard dog, that maybe Master would give him more of these kind touches, if he was good. There was a reason he was part Platonic, right? But Master was being so confusing, one minute ordering him to cover himself because he couldn’t stand the sight of his repulsive body, the next touching him so gently. Master had given him a trick order, but then when he had been bad, as he was doomed to be, Master had touched him like only a good Pet deserves to be touched.

The horrifying realization struck G-22985 as Master continued to pet him; it hadn’t been a trick order, it had been a test, which he had failed. He had failed by putting on the clothes, he had failed by standing up, and only when he remembered his place and stayed on the ground had Master rewarded him with affection. He had been so caught up in being good and obeying Master, that he had forgotten how to be a proper Pet. He knew that Master knew this too, and he knew he was in for the punishment of a lifetime. Still, Master was touching him so kindly, so maybe if he begged, he had a chance of lessening the inevitable hell.

———————————————————————

Suddenly, the Pet stopped his shaking and completely froze. His whimpering turned to sobs, “I know ah-I’ve b-been bad-d, I have f-failed Master’s tests-ts and n-know I deserve p-punishment. I w-will be a good P-Pet, I pr-promise! I will d-do anything to m-make Master happy, I will f-f-follow-w any order g-given, I will n-never be bad, only good! I will k-keep Master ab-absolutely s-s-safe and ha-happy, I swear. I beg of you to-to h-have mercy on-n this-s pathetic cr-creature!”

Anthony was perplexed. He wondered what in the world he’d done to make the Pet think he was in trouble. Had it been the petting? He wished his mother had warned him before sending him the Pet, at least then he could have read the damn online manual. But no, now he had a crying Pet kneeling at his feet, begging for mercy over some perceived infraction. Anthony sighed, and the Pet flinched and went silent. Anthony couldn’t help it, he sighed again, and predictably, the Pet flinched. He would have to get that habit in check.

“Pet, what do you think you did wrong?” Anthony asked, hoping to get a better idea of what was going on in his head.

The Pet’s voice was quiet and strained, but still he answered, “I p-p-put on clothes, Master, which-ch is bad. I st-stood up on my h-hind paws, Master, w-which is bad. I fl-flinched at your t-t-touch, Master, which i-is bad. I know what I did-d w-was bad an-and I d-d-deserve to be p-punished, yet I b-beg your m-mercy, Master.”

Oh, Anthony realized, this is my fault.

He whispered softly to the Pet, trying his best not to be frustrated, and just now getting the inkling that he might have been in over his head, “Hey hey, it’s alright. You’re not in trouble, I’m not going to punish you. You don’t have to sit on the couch if you don’t want to, I just thought it might be more comfortable than the floor. Just, please stop crying, ok?”

The sobbing abruptly halted, and Anthony resisted the urge to sigh again, as he knew he’d been anything but comforting. Also, his plan of ‘Pizza at the table and talk about what the fuck we’re going to do’ would have to be adjusted, seeing the Pet’s reaction to being invited to sit on the couch. Anthony had the sinking feeling that mealtime would be an even bigger hassle. He had no idea what he could possibly do to get the Pet to, if not trust him, then at least give him the time of day without expecting retribution. He decided to give the Pet some space while he thought things over.

“I’m just going to sit over there and order the pizza, you don’t have to go on the couch, but you don’t have to stay kneeling like that either. Just… sit how you’re comfortable,” Anthony instructed as he slowly got up from the floor.

“I remember my pl-place, Master, a lowly P-Pet like m-me knows not-t to sully the f-f-furniture, I’ll b-be good,” he declared in more of a plea than a statement, his voice barely above a whisper and still clearly choked up from crying.

Anthony shrugged and moved to a nearby armchair. He made a point of not looking at the Pet, even though he really wanted to, but even so, the Pet didn’t dare move a muscle from his position. Well, if the pet didn’t want to move, Anthony wasn’t going to force him. He ordered the pizza, and then went to the MP website and brought up the online Owner’s Manual. What he found was, in one word, sickening.

Anthony didn’t live under a rock; he knew that Pets didn’t have it easy, but this was nothing but gratuitous cruelty. The ethos of the manual seemed to be all stick and no carrot, to put it nicely. The manual specifically advised to punish behaviors which were person like, such as sitting on furniture, which really put the past half hour into perspective. That poor pup. There is no way in hell I’m doing any of that, thought Anthony as he read further and further, but the question remained, what am I going to do then?

#whump #pet whump #bbu adjacent #caretaker new master #noncon body modification #morally dubious caretaker #whump writing

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quinloki · 1 year

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More One Piece Kinks

Dubcon, Bondage, and Knifeplay, with

Zoro, Shanks, and Law

Oh. Oh man - okay, I'm going to break these down by kink instead of by character - so anyone who wants to skip dubon can just stop before they get to the end of the post. (there's plenty of warning notes preceding it.)

Bondage:

Zoro - This man is made for Shibari more than the more functional less decorative bondage, and the zen vibe and focus of shibari is something he enjoys too. I feel like bondage tends to turn more shibari for Zoro in any capacity. But the process is meditative and he really gets into it, like with sword forms, the basics are to be mastered first, and his knot-work is as refined as his swordplay. Bondage - Yes // Shibari - Oh god you don't even know.

Shanks - Giving or receiving, Shanks is a solid Yes for bondage. He can be a little reckless in receiving, but he'll happily guide/correct someone through the process. It's not that he has a passion for it, but he does have experience. His recklessness stems from the man's insane haki skills - if things go wrong Shanks can get out of anything with minimal effort, but he's very much 100% Safety Steps when tying someone else up.

Law - A rather not for receiving, and a Oh god you don't even know for giving. Law likes to be in control, and bondage provides that quite efficiently. That preference to be in control is mostly why he's not keen on being the one bound, but you might be able to convince him once or twice. Mostly though, if you're into it - and this is 100% fully functional no frills bondage - he's going to be all for it more than knot. Safety scissors nearby, but with his devil fruit power it's not much risk even pushing the riskier sides of the kink.

Knifeplay:

Zoro - Giving - yes, receiving, No. Zoro's control of blades is, well, legendary. So this is a niche right up his alley. Even with all his practice and skills, he's in between Sure and Yes, more toward yes. He's definitely got the kind of control that can keep you on edge (hehe), without things getting dangerous.

Shanks - Giving - Sure, receiving, Sure. There's not much Shanks won't do, or try. But again, in this case, it's really his control of his own skills that allow him to be comfortable with something like this. He knows he won't hurt you with his skills, and he's a strong guy, so even if there's a slip at worst he has a new scar. As far as foreplay or kinks though, there's more effective options when it comes to Shanks xD

Law - Giving Sure, Receiving - No. There is no enthusiasm in this with the good surgeon, but he's not against it. Law's more apt to want to try kinky things using his devil fruit to take you apart - not actually risking or purposefully cutting you. I imagine the whole fact that his sword is considered cursed, and he's not big on unnecessary harm, lend themselves toward this. The good news is, even if there isn't enthusiasm, if there's an accident, you're already in the hands of the best surgeon on the Grand Line, so there's a lot less risk.

Dubcon* (Giving Only):

*dubcon outside of fanfic is kind of a hard one to nail down, but I did my best. xD (I was like, how to do I talk about consent in a specifically dubious consent situation?)

One final note: If this isn't your kink, and you wouldn't ask it of your partner, then the next section just isn't for you <3 Skip it. Don't cry/bitch/whine to me ^_^

Zoro - This is a big No for Zoro. He's not an idiot, he's not incapable of nuance, but I feel like it's something that just sits a little raw in his craw. You can set up safe words with him, and beg him to stop and he'll manage to keep going, but that's clear consent within a set session and not quite the same thing.

Shanks - This is a Sure-to-Yes for Shanks. He's big on personal freedom and autonomy, but as long as you two sit down and talk through all the details, and come up with a safeword specific to those situations, he'll work with it. It certainly adds an interesting spice to your day to day life, being unsure of if, when, where, and how he'll initiate things. A few times he even leaves you unsatisfied, and it's hard to describe how hot it is.

Law - He starts as I dunno, but as time passes between you, and the relationship and trust grows, and you have a time or two where you really sit down and talk it out, he hits Sure. It's a "special occasions" sort of deal at that point, and you can probably count on your hands the number of times it's happened. There's always proper and thorough after care afterward.

Kinky One Piece Head Canon

#kinky one piece head canon #roronoa zoro #one piece shanks #trafalgar d law #x reader #trafalgar law x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #shanks x reader

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box-architecture · 4 months

Text

CKAU: Part One of ???

I often find myself struggling to write the first chapter of the Communication Knife AU.

When I first started writing awesamdream, it was me spitballing ideas in the dreblr minecraft server when it first opened, and trying to have fun with a ship that, at the time, wasn't considered A Big Thing, or was purely for whump purposes. And while writing for an AU, Sif was also there, poking and tormenting lovingly as a Sif does, and mentioned the concept of Auspisticism, a homestuck relationship, in regards to Dream, Sam, and Punz. And then one thing led to another, and now I have this big thing that makes me happy and had grown a lot bigger than I expected it to, and there's so many little drabbles and snippets and smut pieces that came out of it, that by the time new people started asking what the hell I was talking about, I realized that the context wasn't properly put together and hard to explain.

So I tried to put together a whole fic for it! And it hasn't been going well.

Because I really want to do the fic justice. I want to make it sound really lovely and use all the right words and explain very well all the things that made me insane so you can understand just the way it went when all this started! But in trying to do that, it's become so hard to write. I feel stuck, the words won't come, I overthink and overedit, and nothing is good enough.

But I still really, really do want to explain the AU so you can understand. And i know it won't be the perfect, well designed thing I built in my head, with all the write prose and all the little extra fancy things, but I'd rather you have it imperfectly than not at all.

Here you go, part one of ???:

(Sam: he/him

Dream: he/him

Punz: they/he

just to make sure.)

When things get bad for Dream in prison, he offers Sam sexual favors in return for better treatment, food/blankets/etc., and Sam agrees to this, regardless of the terrible ethics involved. Its not a great situation, for like, Obvious Reasons, and the consent is very much dubious here. Sam's possessive behavior is at its peak, and even if there ends up being less torture as part of the deal, it doesn't change that things are still fucked up.

When Dream escapes prison and finds Sam during Daedalus Arc, after scarring Sam, Dream offers to meet up to have sex again next week, out of a need to feel in control, to prove how he was Totally Not Traumatized he was and how he was absolutely fully capable of consenting to it, and the two continue their sexual activities.

However, Punz, who has been in a comfortably open relationship with Dream since before prison, bristles at the idea of Sam taking advantage of Dream, of the severe power imbalance still being a problem, and comes with him to these sexual encounters to protect him and keep Sam from pushing Dream's boundaries. They set up some rules, and if Sam breaks any or steps out of line, Punz will stab him with a special, gaudy blue knife that has 'Communication' engraved in its handle.

"He tortured you!"

"Technically it was Quackity who did the torturing." Dream corrected him, meticulously sorting his inventory. Their base felt suffocating, tiny, and he wanted to be done and gone already, but Punz seemed ready to fight him the whole way.

"Don't give me that shit," Punz snapped. "Sam let him in, he starved you half to death, for God's sake, Dream, he r-"

"It was not." At breakneck speed, Dream turned on his heel and hissed. "I said yes. Don't you dare say I didn't."

"You weren't in a position to say no." Punz said fiercely. Something dark and angry crushed their heart in its fist. "You didn't have any choice-"

"I had a choice!"

The world seemed to stop moving, the air stale. Dreams breaths were shaky, heaving, and Punz realized with a lump in their throat that Dream was trembling from stress.

"I had a choice." Dream repeated. "And it was mine. Not his, not anyone's. I'm going to see him again, and that's my choice too. Not yours."

They could stop him, a little voice in the back of their head murmured. They could stop him and- and keep him safe. Prevent anyone else from hurting him again. They could say the right words that would cause him to falter ("for me." Punz had once pleaded, and Dream bent, as he always did) and then Sam would never touch him. They could even kill the creeper hybrid, to be sure. They would destroy the entire server with the Plan, and Dream would finally be safe.

But.

Dream needed this. Whatever he said, whatever he thought, he'd been denied agency for so long. The thought of them being the one to take it away, his friend, when they were supposed to be the one person on the server who he could trust… it made them feel sick.

Dreams trembling faded, and he straightened up, before he throwing his cloak over his shoulder.

Punz made his decision. "I'm coming with you."

"What?"

"I'm your backup, and your mercenary, and your partner. If Sam has a problem with it, just say you rehired me."

At the very beginning, the rules are this:

No Kissing. Punz doesn't think Sam deserves kisses, and they're vicious about enforcing this. Kisses are for Punz alone, and Sam is incredibly jealous.

No marks. Sam has tried to leave hickies or bruises, but it was quickly shut down. When he argued this, Punz told him that he could leave marks when all the marks (torture scars) he already made on Dream were gone.

No cuddling or aftercare. Since Sam insisted that the sex didn't mean anything, clearly that means he doesn't need to be involved in taking care of Dream after. Punz will take him away and they can be the one to hold Dream. (Not that Sam longed for that. He doesn't feel more desperate each time the two leave him behind. Of course not.)

The most obvious one: what Dream says goes. Sam isn't allowed to Override Dream and insist his way is better, and he isn't allowed to take whatever he wants without asking. If Dream needs a moment, or would like to change positions, or even just say he'd rather not, Sam must listen. Punz will make him listen.

And so every week all three of them get together, usually at the prison, and have sex. Its a very complicated, unhealthy dynamic, for a lot of different reasons.

Punz, usually able to gauge what Dream wants/what would make him comfortable, is left blind, because Dream is always a little uncomfortable here, always stressed, and Punz can't fix that. They're trying their best, and they know that Dream could shut down and be unable to express himself if the wrong button is pushed, but in the beginning its a mess. At some point he micromanages where Sam puts his hands, pushing and arguing with him over whose allowed to say where Sam can and can't touch, and neither of the two argue that it should be Dream.

It doesn't help that Punz is jealous. They don't want to be, especially not in this situation. But Sam's possessiveness of Dream, the way he taunts about knowing Dream in ways nobody else possibly could- it sets off that part of Punz that has always been so self-satisfied with his place as Dream's most intimate companion, the other half of his soul.

(Its the server's second stupidest dick measuring contest where they accidentally objectify Dream in the process, while they also compete to see who Dream likes more.)

Sam, on the other hand, is constantly having to reckon with the fact that he wasn't actually as good as he thought he was. Punz doesn't let him get away with spewing the same lines of crap and insisting he's always right. Sam also considered himself A Good Lover and good at getting Dream off (the only one who knows him, who knows him Best), and his ego takes a fucking hit when Punz corrects him. When Punz points out that certain things were actually harmful/not enjoyable, its hard for Sam to accept because it means he fucked up and made assumptions in his head and Punz rubs each of those in.

Sam tries to defend himself by pointing out that Dream went along with it, and which leads to Punz pointing out that he didn't have much of a choice/wasn't in a good situation to make that choice at the time, and that's the one time it nearly comes to blows between them before Dream speaks up to tell them both to knock it off.

(Sam discovers One (1) kink that Punz doesn't know about and he's so fucking smug about it despite fucking up literally everything else.)

(No matter how many wins Sam thinks he gets during their weekly time together, Punz still gets to take Dream home, do aftercare and keep him safe. Sam hates how much he wants that too, despite the fact that according to his own weird moral code he shouldn't.)

And as much as this is most definitely causing more issues, it does leave Dream actually feeling more in control of his situation.

He gets so much praise now! This is basically therapy but better! He even gets aftercare with no torture. He's getting good dick and most of his kinks are getting hit, truly luxurious for a cDream. He's a lot more confident and content, and he isn't constantly on the defensive, because if Punz says he didn't deserve what happened to him, even if its just a single person, Dream doesn't have to fight to prove that he's a person deserving of basic human decency.

But the Most Important Thing That Makes All This Take The Turn It Does: At first, Sam thinks that the proper solution to all of this is to get Dream all to himself again in his prison where he belongs and not fixing his behavior any more than what he needs specifically to get there.

However, during an very short period of time where Sam is able to be with Dream without Punz there to scrutinize, Sam attempts to do stuff like how he used to before Punz, to prove he doesn't need him, that they don't need him.

But now he knows, he knows that Dream isn't actually into a lot of the things he was trying, or at the very least he likes other things more. He had it proved to him, and he's aware that things can be a lot better. Dream's clearly nervous, anxious, and not super into this, and Sam can tell, and now all he can see are all those little signs that he's fucking up, and it's getting into his head.

In the end, he can't even get himself to go through with it, because now it feels wrong and he can't ignore that. He makes an excuse, and he's frustrated and aggressive, but he doesn't try this again without Punz there.

Mentally he can justify it as Punz would kill him if he did. This is just a matter of self-preservation.

But quietly his plans adjust to not just needing to get Dream under his control. He'll need to get Punz too in order for things to be perfect.

#communication knife au #awesamdrunz #there are parts of this that are words that Sif wrote because a lot of the stuff was us rotating together #she gave me full permission to use them before I even asked dkfjghdkfgh<3 #Sif is one of the best rotation friends genuinely. we love and cherish Sif in this house

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captain-mj · 9 months

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Bun mentioned somewhere that you were the one who wrote the Nunez and Valeria thing? I was wondering if you could write something else for them? Maybe when she’s supposed to kill him, she spares him instead having a… better idea for what he could be used for (doesn’t have to be ABO)

Anon I need you to understand this is my favorite Valeria ship and I’m going to kiss you on the lips for giving me an excuse to write them

Also, the consent be DUBIOUS in this just a warning.

Valeria held the gun against his head and went to pull the trigger. She really did. But her fingers didn’t cooperate.

Nunez had the same eyes most men did. Nothing special about them. But they were looking at her with a layer of fear and… admiration. He was about to die and he still had the spark in his eyes.

“Take the gringo while I dispose of him.” Valeria ordered, motioning towards Soap. She stared at Nunez and he started to look nervous.

"Ma'am, I promise. I did my best." Nunez blinked up at her, all innocent.

Valeria scoffed. "Don't grovel." She got out her knife and Nunez tensed up before she sliced through the bindings. "I have a way you can make your failure up to me."

It took a lot longer than expected. Valeria had to deal with quite a bit before she finally, finally got to enjoy her prize.

Nunez wore her collar well. It had her name on it and included her phone number, even a little "Return to Valeria if found" message on the back. She had not truly degraded him, though it was tempting. But she never wanted to push him too hard. He wasn't one of her toys that she'd replace if broken. Nunez was a prized possession.

So she gave him a little more leeway that she would anyone else, even though he rarely took it. The entire time she was imprisoned, he simply waited for her, making sure everyone stayed loyal. He was a vicious man when ever Valeria was disrespected.

Valeria rewarded him greatly for it.

Nunez finally got to see her again since the night she almost killed him and then collared him. He kissed her hands desperately, gazing up at her like she was the very moon itself.

"I missed you so much, my love."

"I know. Such a good boy."

Nunez melted at her praise. "Had to make it up to you. Had to."

Valeria smiled. "Mira nomas que obediente mi perrito."

Nunez nodded desperately, sliding to his knees. "Sí, sí señora, es usted tan hermosa. Yo haría cualquier cosa por usted, por favor." His mouth opened slightly, eyes already going hazy. So ready to beg.

"We should have a few hours. I want you to undress."

He jumped up and started to undress, watching her. He really was such a good boy.

Valeria watched him, careful not to give anything away. His desperation was half of the fun. Nunez watched her and looked down at himself, trying his best to pose and look attractive to her.

"Lay down."

Immediately, he jumped to do it. He laid down and looked... shy.

Valeria undid her pants and kicked them to the side. When she noticed his begging expression, she rolled her eyes and took off her shirt as well. She threw her leg over his hips so she could straddle him properly.

Nunez gently moved his hands to rest on her hips. "Oh, mi amor. hermosa, hermosa." He groaned as she gently pressed against him.

Valeria gently her fingers over his lips, watching his mouth open and his tongue dart off to try to get more. His tongue gently ran between her finger before they slid into his mouth. He sucked happily, twirling his tongue around as she slowly sank down on him. His whole display had gotten her wet and it was almost too easy to take him all the way down.

He whimpered a little when she stopped. She raked her nails down his chest, watching him groan and try to stay still. If he moved too much, he worried she'd pull away and leave him like this. All he wanted was to touch her more. Whatever she'd allow him.

Eventually, she did grab one of his hands and gently moved it to one of her breasts, letting him feel. He whined and continued to touch carefully. She moved quickly, mostly just grinding or trying to chase her own pleasure. His free hand moved down and found her clit. He followed her rhythm and she felt herself to start to tense up. Her body clenched around him harder and harder as she got closer and it made him whimper.

"Por favor, Por favor quiero venir. Por favor déjeme venir. Por favor por favor por favor por favor." He groaned as he tried to keep from finishing, not yet having her permission. She grinded down on him as she finished, feeling his desperation to start to peak. Nunez whimpered and started to kiss her hand as he rubbed her clit faster.

Valeria grabbed the collar she kept around his neck and tightened it until it choked him. "Finish."

Nunez's eyes rolled back as he finally relaxed. He shook and whined as he came hard, hips rolling insistently. Valeria watched and felt very pleased with herself.

"My good boy."

"Yours."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #valeria garza #nunez x valeria #valeria mw2

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edenwolfie · 7 months

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20 questions for fic writer

I was tagged by @naamah-beherit! thanks for the tag, this one was fun!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 8

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 897,063 lol

3. what fandoms do you write for? Posted Labyrinth, Star Wars, MDZS & TGCF, and written but not posted for Star Trek, Marvel, SVSSS & Trigun

4. what are your top five fics by kudos? #1: Just say yes (MDZS / Kudos: 10,035) #2: Just say there's nothing holding you back (MDZS / Kudos: 6,024) #3: Sigh No More (Star Wars / Kudos: 5,546) #4: I’m aching and I know you are too (MDZS / Kudos: 4,481) #5: ’Til our compass stands still (TGCF / Kudos: 3,962)

5. do you respond to comments? I do try to as much as I can when posting a fic, but after I've finished fics unless I have something to add or a comment particularly moved me, I tend not to due to it being a little time consuming and repetitive to work through--though all are loved and appreciated beyond words!!

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? None of them lol. Look upon my collection of fix-it fics and weep (at their fluffy endings)

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Again, all of them, but I think ’Til our compass stands still is the one that makes me smile the most.

8. do you get hate on fics? I have gotten a couple of odd comments, but is very rare.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? Oh yeah. The smutty kind? Whatever takes my fancy really, I've posted a lot of my soft shit, but there's definitely some darker/kinkier stuff in the old WIP pile.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not really one for crossovers, only one I started was for Star Wars/MDZS that I will likely never finish.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? Good old Sigh No More was one of those fics that was being sold on Amazon amongst a number of other folks fics.

12. have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! My series Just Say Yes has been translated to Russian.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I have not.

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship? Boy that's a hard one. Probably K/S. They the OG for good reason.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Honestly, if I actually want to finish it, I will make it happen. I also don't start posting until I am sure I have the whole thing plotted out and can finish it. I have a lot of WIPs, but many are little disconnected scenes I like to play with like Barbies that don't really have Plot and I don't really intend to finish. I suppose if the Wangxian brain took me again, I'd like to finish the WIP titled 'Canon Typical Dubious Consent' fic, but it's a huge mess and would need a lot more coherency to it.

16. what are your writing strengths? I think I'm pretty good with dialogue, character, and plot.

17. what are your writing weaknesses? The bits in between those things, descriptions and such. I also have a penchant for reusing words a lot and repeating myself, though I do try to clean that up in edits lol

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? If it's there for a reason I don't see why not, but I also likely wouldn't do so mainly because I'm not particularly fluent in anything other than English and would worry too much about fucking it up.

19. first fandom you wrote for? Labyrinth on ff.net a thousand years ago

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written? Definitely ’Til our compass stands still, that one is my Baby.

I'm tagging whoever feels like doing it!

#edenwolfie writes #ask meme

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ananke-xiii · 9 days

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Yes, sometimes even Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming can write interesting dialogues. Anything can happen in life so I'm not exactly surprised. I'm referring to Sam and Dean's "it's not an "it"" dialogue from "Hell's Angel" (s11e18).

Sam: Dean's right. Priority is to put the Horn in Lucifer's hands and set him loose on Amara. Dean: After we exorcise Lucifer out of Cas and put him into a new vessel. Sam: What? Really? Dean: Yes, really. We're not gonna send Lucifer into battle inside Cas. What if he doesn't make it? Sam: Dean, it's a strong vessel. It's held Cas for years, and we know what he's been through. I'm guessing it can hold Lucifer. Dean: "It"? It's not an "it," Sam. It's Cas. Sam: And Cas wanted to do this. Dean: Yeah, well, there's times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask. That don't make it a good idea. Sam: Dean, this is exactly how we screw ourselves. W-We make the... the heart choice instead of the smart choice. Dean: Oh, okay. Thank you, Dr. Phil. Cas is family. Sam: Yes, and his choice deserves to be respected. Dean: Even if it kills him?

I think this is a very interesting dialogue for two reasons: 1. it shows how Dean is very good at winning arguments :P and 2. it shows how both brothers' planning is 100% morally dubious. I don't really like putting on the morality lenses, it's not something very appealing to me because I like analyzing characters rather than judging them. Having said that, it's still worth noticing how none of the brothers comes out of this scene exceptionally well.

Sam and Dean argue because they are making a deal with Crowley and they have different priorities: Sam's is to put the Horn in Lucifer's hand and set him loose on Amara ASAP; Dean's is leaving Cas (currently possessed by Lucifer) out of the equation. This places the brothers on two different sides: Dean is "the heart choice" and Sam is "the smart choice". Dean wins because a. he's better at defending his thesis and b. in a season focused on the heart's desires there really is no place for smart choices. The heart wants what it wants, people.

A new vessel.

Dean is ready to put Lucifer into "a new vessel" (aka another human being and good luck finding one what with the whole issue of consent etc) because he doesn't want to send Lucifer into battle inside Cas (brrr, the phrasing is so crude, buckleming don't beat around the bush for sure). So, you know, I'm not judging him for that, love can get crazier than that etc, but the morality lenses are detecting some problems here. Very cunning of Dean to use the impersonal word "vessel" instead of his usual "angel condom" or, you know, "human being". He's worried that Cas will not make it. And this is actually problematic because it implies that Dean is fine with sacrificing another random person as long as it's not Cas.

Sam picks up on Dean's careful selection of word and does an interesting shift between it-he-it. It's a strong vessel, it's held Cas, he (Cas) has gone through a lot, it can hold Lucifer.

While Dean thinks of Cas as Cas, Cas is Lucifer's vessel, it's not "vessel + Cas" (sorry to put it this horribly but I can't come up with something better right now LOL) and he's techinically right because Jimmy Novak is permadead, I find very interesting that Sam still separates Cas' vessel from Cas himself. I think this might be where Sam's trauma for being Lucifer's true vessel and all that entailed shows. I don't know if it's a coping mechanism but this might tell us that Sam, too, considers himself both and "it" and a "he". Anyway, personally not judging, but the morality lenses are detecting problems here, too. Pragmatism is a virtue but, as all things taken to extremes, it can also be a vice. I remember that once Sam rightly told Dean that he was fine with the sacrifice as long as he wasn't the one to do the sacrifice (or something along these lines). Well, right back at you, Sam. Moreover, Sam is avoiding the problem here: they know Cas' vessel can hold Lucifer, it's been holding him in that precise moment. Dean wants to know what happens if Cas doesn't make it. They're two different things. Sam will lose this argument because he's avoid the subject. He's not factoring in the very real possibility that Cas might die.

Dean's rebuke at Sam that it's not an "it" but "it's Cas" is a bit unfair. He was the first who mentioned a new vessel, thus implicitly saying that, while Cas might not be an "it", another "it" (vessel being a neutral noun) needs to contain Lucifer. And Sam did refer to Cas as "he" and "Cas" while referring to the vessel as "it". But Dean is smart and definitely knows how to win an argument.

Wants and good ideas.

Sam defends his thesis pulling the "he wanted this" card. But how do you know Sam? It's a weak defence and Sam of all people should know. Coming to the conclusion that saying YES to Lucifer is the best solution and then acting on that does NOT equal to actually wanting to do THAT. Then, there are two more another points to be made. The first is that Dean is, again very very clever, and he immediately shows another fallacy in Sam's defence: wanting something doesn't mean it's a good idea. This would be a strong argument if Dean's alternative "good idea" wasn't to put Lucifer inside another human being vessel. The second is that Cas did say yes to Lucifer, but he's not the one making the deal with Crowley. Sam and Dean are, they are making the choice for Cas while he's incapacited. The end result may be the same (Cas probably considered when he said yest to Lucifer that he was not gonna make it), but the modality is quite different.

Heart choice, smart choice and Cas' choice.

Sam's final plea is the old "brain vs heart" conundrum. The heart choices are what screw you in the end and they're about to make the same mistake again. I don't know if "leaving things as they are" (aka leaving Lucifer inside Cas) can qualitfy as a smart choice but Sam seems to think so. Dean simply steamrolls Sam's argument with a plain but strong "Cas is family". Which, you know, fair. However, family is exactly the thing that screws them in the end that Sam was talking about. We've reached a stall.

Finally, Sam plays the part of Cas' lawyer and says that his choice must be respected but he totally loses the argument. Because, as I said, the point was NOT if the vessel could hold Lucifer or whether Cas should've said yes or no to him. The problem is USING Lucifer and set him loose on Amara. No, actually no, the problem is USING Cas as bait with the possibility of his consequent death. And Dean is not okay with that. So much so, he's willing to sacrifice another human being to save part of his family. Yes, Cas' choice should be respected but they are planning to use him as bait. Was that Cas' choice, too? How could they know? Dean is ultimately right because he's addressing a painful point: they are using a member of their family as a pawn and he might not make it. This is their choice, not Cas'.

So what about Cas' choice? Dean wins the argument but was he right? Yes, it seems so.

Castiel: Oh, Crowley. What are you doing here? Crowley: Is this the Winchesters' kitchen? Castiel: Sort of. I come here in my mind to pass the time. For some reason, it has excellent reception. Crowley: What's wrong with you? What has Lucifer done to you? Castiel: Well, he mostly just leaves me alone. I'm just waiting here, you know, for the battle with the Darkness. Crowley: He's really got his hooks in you. Snap out of it. Do you know what's happening out there? The Winchesters have trapped the abomination so that you can expel him so that they can put him back in the Cage... Castiel: Well, that doesn't sound like a very good idea. Crowley: In your current state, you're in no position to judge. Castiel: Wait. That was Dean I saw a minute ago, wasn't it? Crowley: Yes. Castiel: And he wants me to expel Lucifer? Crowley: Yes! Castiel [laughing]: Ha, ha, ha! Well... he may have a more objective view of the situation. Maybe I should.

At first Cas seems to share Sam's pov. He's just there waiting to be used in the final battle against Amara. However, he's clearly not okay. Lucifer has got his hooks on him, as Crowley points out. He also tells Cas about the Winchesters' plan to expel Lucifer from him. Cas, again, shares Sam's opinion: this is not a very good idea. But one little look at Dean and all of a sudden he's like "well, if Dean says so I guess he's right". He trusts Dean to the point that he thinks that he may have "a more objective view" implying that he doesn't have an objective view, so therefore Sam's advocating for his choices and wants was null. It's not a choice if the person making the choice doesn't have all the info necessary to make the choice in the first place.

I think this dialogue is well-done because it shows us both the Winchesters' hypocrisy and moral ambiguity and the lenghts people would go to save the ones they love. Although my morality lenses have detected bullshit on both sides, Sam's argument is the weakest and not because he thinks Cas is an "it" (I think I've proved by now that's a bit unfair to call out Sam on that), but because he's making excuses and playing righteous while he's not being that.

(And, I think, he's not being that because he's a deeply traumatized character who's been projecting onto Cas his trauma the whole time. Back in s5 the priority was saving the world, he was the strong true vessel, he wanted to do it, his choice had to be respected. And that actually worked out. For the world, for sure. For him? Not so much. Advocating for Cas' choice meant advocating for his own choices, proving he was right. But he was not).

Ultimately the plan to exorcise Lucifer out of Cas doesn't work so we'll never know exactly what would've happened. But I think it's interesting to notice how Dean, who's usually portrayed as right by the narrative and as its heart, is actually way more cunning than he's given credit for. He manages to make Sam sound callous for calling Cas an "it" while he was the one who brought the subject of vessels up. He counteracts all of Sam's points quickly and effectively. And he was rewarded by the narrative because we see and hear Cas saying that Dean does have a more objective view than he does (and he had just two seconds before basically agreed to everything that Sam had said). I kinda liked it. Making the heart choice doesn't negate the possibility of making the smart choice, Sam. And Dean was actually smarter. Good scene y'all.

#spn #supernatural #spn lines #spn s11e18 #hell's angel

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lemonhemlock · 9 months

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It's so weird seeing people complaining about the show whitewashing Aemond while arguing that he actually should've been portrayed as a psychopath or a villain from the get-go. That's hardly a better portrayal. He was just a child when he attempted to console Jace!! Is it so bad that he wasn't shown to be a complete lunatic at that age?h Also, the sexual trauma that happened to him when he was 13 years old doesn't exclude him from committing atrocities in the future nor having a future relationship of probable dubious consent with an older woman. In fact, I'd argue it's not inconceivable that book!Aemond lost his virginity at a similar age or was very young at least - whether or not book!Aegon had a part in it (tbh even in the show I don't think he did it with the intent to traumatize his younger brother like I've seen some people suggesting, no, he truly thought he was doing a good thing to him - but this is another discussion). While Daemon did not receive the best portrayal with him being the one to kill Rhea or choking his current wife I don't think the fandom as a whole hates him more than they would've hated the book version of him because of those two decisions, team black fans certainly don't and let's be honest, most green ones would've hated him regardless. As for Viserys, well, he was hated before the show too for being weak! Because he is and always will be!! Imho he's just ickier in the show because of the decision to age him up and age Alicent down, thus making the dynamic of their relationship really off-putting (and this still doesn't prevent some people from claiming that she seduced him). Aegon, well, he sure did receive the worst treatment from the writers but I truly don't think it was done at the behest of Aemond, to make him the better brother and so on. If anything, it was done to prop Rhaenyra up as the right choice, whose side we, as viewers, must take. Not to be a jerk but one must be really naive to think that the Aemondwives and even most normal Aemond fans will abandon him once he starts burning the Riverlands and latch onto Aegon as their next favorite character as a result of that. Everyone already knows he's only getting worse. The only thing that can make some of his fans jump off ship is if the writers make him rape Alys and/or be violent towards her but I doubt that will happen (and their relationship isn't very clear in the books either). Peasants are just that, peasants. No fangirl is going to be like "omggg Aemond was so evil for burning that village down!!! now I hope he dies!!". Now of course this isn't the view someone should have, but stans are gonna stan regardless.

Sorry for this getting so long but I truly think some people would be better off if they'd stop watching the show only to complain about what the writers changed. This is not to say we should simply approve of everything the writers are doing and never say anything against, but some complaints are truly silly. If you like the book more, then stick to it? Nothing wrong with that.

i think people are just bored at this point but maybe for some reason don't have the bandwidth to invest in another fandom / watch another show / read another book & they're just stuck arguing in circles about hotd. it's been the same main 10 topics of conversation over & over since the show ended that they keep coming back to

i also don't get why anyone would be against taking a one-note character from the books and fleshing them out more. if anything, aemond's characterization as a child and young man made a lot of sense & was integrated nicely, without resorting to moustache-twirling tropes like child psychopath. also agree that aegon's depiction came about a way to prop rhaenyra up, not aemond.

all things considered, you're probably right about the aemondwives being ride or die, but who can predict how zealous fans with such militant behaviour will react. even the snapewives engaged in some very weird mental gymnastics because they didn't agree with the plotline jkr assigned to their favourite character

#ask #anon #hotd critical [storytelling]#anti hotd fandom #snapewives nation state

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gilbirda · 2 years

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Trashy romance novels enjoyers

Slight Anger Management aka Jazz/Jason

@batpham-discord-highlights

“Can I have some of that?” He looked back at her as he was finishing applying the cream to his chest. “Also can you do my back? I can do yours.” His heart jumped for a moment, the idea of her hands on his skin not at all displeasing. “Sure.” His voice betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

[Read on AO3]

“Can I sit here?”

Jason looked up from his book, finding Danny’s older sister there. Jasmine. He vaguely knew about her apart from what Danny said in the family dinners he had been invited to; but from what he could gather she was a mix between Dick and Tim - a workaholic that didn’t know when to stop and that liked to baby Danny despite him being an adult himself.

Honestly, kudos for still trying to be the older sister of the terrifying eldritch creature Danny was. It took a lot of balls to order around the King of Hell like that.

“Sure.”

She just nodded and sat down on the other lounge chair under the umbrella, a can of soda in one hand and a book in the other.

“This is the only quiet shade,” she explained when she saw him looking at the book. “I can’t read with the noise.”

This made him chuckle. “Oh, I get you. Why do you think I’m here?” He lifted his own book so she could see the cover.

Her face lit with a big smile. “No way! I love that saga! Are you re-reading or…”

Jason blinked slowly. The saga in question was very raunchy, filled with bodice ripping adventure and a sexy male love interest. Not really something you’ll admit to reading with a big smile like that. At least not usually.

“You didn’t strike me as the kind of girl that reads this stuff. Also I’m starting fresh, this was recommended to me after I read the ‘Daggers and Storm’ saga.”

“Trashy romance just scratches an itch, what can I say,” she sat up from where she had been leaning on the back rest, her attention fully on him now. “The ‘Daggers’ saga is good, but the romance is not that well developed, in my opinion.”

“And this one? What can you say before I commit to Amber and Adam’s tumultuous romance?”

“The sex is good, if that’s what you want to know,” he laughed at her words, not expecting her being so brazen about it. “No, really, it's less, uh… you know.”

“Yeah… ‘Daggers’ had some really dubious consent moments. Almost made me drop it a few times.”

“Well, in the ‘Frozen Kingdom’ saga it’s actually very cute. Adam is the typical stoic bad boy with an attitude that is actually soft for the protagonist.” She said with an eye roll, but her lips were pressed in a smile. She did like the main love interest, it seems. “If you haven’t finished this one I won’t spoil it, but the whole romance is very slow burn, if you are into that kind of thing.”

Her whole being lit up talking about these novels, it was like she was a completely different person from what Danny had told everyone she was. Not that he was complaining. He could appreciate someone that spoke their mind so easily.

Jason sat up on his chair and stole her soda can to take a sip. Her eyes followed every movement but she didn’t say anything.

“So do they bone in the first one or is it a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of situation for three hundred pages?”

She laughed, a warm breeze carrying the sound like tinkling bells in the wind.

“They do, but spoiler alert, she is conflicted about it for a while because she thinks he only wants her for her power,” she said, shaking one fisted hand in a dramatic gesture.

By this time, Jason was more amused by how she talked about the books than the actual books themselves. He laughed again, setting his book aside after putting his bookmark between the pages to not lose his place.

“Got any other good recommendations, then?”

Those were the magic words - Jasmine started rambling about different books and why she liked them or not, how they executed classic tropes and how the romance was treated. She moved her hands excitedly, and the smile didn’t leave her face the whole time.

She was halfway through an analysis comparing a modern reimagining of Pride and Prejudice with the original one when he had to stop her.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Her smile was small, fragile.

“Actually I was thinking about taking this conversation to the water? It's getting kinda hot.”

There was a bit of a wind but it was uncomfortably warm, and the sun was merciless even from under the safety of the umbrella. Jasmine seemed to realize this now, picking up her long red hair so she could fan her neck with her hands.

“Yeah, you are right.”

She stood up and took off the beach dress she had been wearing. He turned away in time to not come off as a creep and stare at her for too long, and decided to get his sunscreen from the beach bag he placed close to the chair.

“Can I have some of that?” He looked back at her as he was finishing applying the cream to his chest. “Also can you do my back? I can do yours.”

His heart jumped for a moment, the idea of her hands on his skin not at all displeasing.

“Sure.” His voice betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

He acted absolutely normal as he put the cream on her back, his fingers bumping on every little scar she had. Danny had told them his sister was part of the Team Phantom back in his hometown, so it made sense to see proof of the battles on her skin. Still, he didn’t make a comment on it.

She didn’t comment on his scars either, even if he felt her stop a little on the bigger ones, when it was his turn to get the sunscreen applied. Her hands were warm and nimble, her nails barely scratching his skin. He wondered if she would do a proper back scratching if he asked, and he decided to stop that thought right there before it spawned more thoughts in that line.

“Let’s go!” She extended a hand when she was done, and despite not needing help to get up from his lounge chair, he accepted it.

He didn’t let go as they ran through the hot sand towards the sea, or the whole time they stayed in the water talking about nothing and everything.

Jason noticed she didn’t let go either.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #jazz/jason #anger management ship #BatPhamSummerSendOff2022 #BatPhamBeach2022

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