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calder · 6 months

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Released in 2010, Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout: New Vegas actively concerns itself with the realities of gay existence, and is widely recognized as a noteworthy work of queer science fiction. New Vegas extensively examines social attitudes towards homosexuality among the game's major factions, and primarily conveys this lore through gay and bisexual characters describing their own experiences. It also allowed the player to mechanically set the Courier's sexual orientation. By taking both available perks, the player character can be bisexual. By choosing neither, the player can opt out of seeing flirtatious dialogue options.

Uniquely, Fallout: New Vegas explores homosexuality in the context of wasteland societies, and touches upon related issues. The core theme of New Vegas is that the desire to recreate the past is driven by irrational nostalgia, and any endeavor to manifest past glory is dangerous and doomed. The social issue of homophobia is used as a demonstrative example. The resurrection of corporate and military power structures presents new avenues for Old World problems such as institutional homophobia to reemerge. One of the many issues that divide the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion is the latter's open persecution of gay people. The NCR is described as tolerant and even accepting of same-sex relationships, though acceptance tends to fall off the further one moves away from the developed, urbanized core of New California. In recent years, the Republic's rapid economic transformation has led to an unforeseen erosion of the humanitarian ideals which it was founded to serve. In practice, to recreate America was to take on its shortcomings and its sins. As subsistence scavenging has dried up, the people of the NCR increasingly turn to wage labor, entrepreneurial venture, or military enlistment to keep their families fed. Meanwhile, their government enacts morally corrosive imperialism (narrative verbiage), their dominion expanding indefinitely as their infrastructure crumbles from within. This has led to a profit-based imperial monoculture which must conquer, consume, and coerce to perpetuate. As personal politics and service labor grow in importance, people find themselves more inclined to present as "normal" in the interest of financial stability and political expedience. A loading screen visualizes this culture of artificial social normalcy: the portrait of President Aradesh on the NCR 5$ bill neglects to depict his unibrow, earring, and facial scarification, overall portraying the once-chieftain so cleanly-cut as to be unrecognizable at first glance. He also appears to be wearing a collared shirt or suit as opposed to the robe he wore in Fallout.

In the Legion, Caesar has mandated that every legionnaire take a wife and produce children, citing high infant mortality rates and the constant need for soldiers, and going as far as instituting child quotas. He treats human beings as a resource to be exploited for war. Ostensibly in this aim homosexuality has been declared a capital offense punishable by death. Historically, routine demonstrations of violence towards women and gay people are a deliberate feature of fascist societies, the only logical cultural conclusion of a government devoted entirely to war and control. In Forlorn Hope letter 9, an NCR soldier wrote wrote the following to his boyfriend:

Dearest Andrew, Writing this seems pretty morbid, but tomorrow we march into the no man's land between our camp and Nelson, which is crawling with Legion. The Major insisted I write this damn "if you get this, I'm dead" letter so here it is. What a crock. I have the luck of the devil and your love on my side, so I'll be home soon. Keep the porch light on for me. We'll party in New Vegas when I get back. I love you. —Devin

Devin believed he would prevail over the Legion because his love would keep him safe. He was found dying or dead on the battlefield, the letter was found on his body. In a post-release patch, the injured soldiers were removed from the battlefield for performance reasons, and never re-implemented. Driven largely in reaction to the Legion's hyper-masculine posturing and misogyny, rumors persist across the Mojave that gay male relationships are not only common within the Legion, but condoned. These rumors are repeated commonly in NCR society. A closeted NCR Major mentions that the Legion is "a little more... forgiving" about close male "friendships," speaking in a hushed tone to avoid suspicion. At the same outpost, the player can encounter Cass, a bisexual civilian woman. She may flirt with a male Courier, who may imply they are gay, prompting her to imply gay men are more common in the Legion. Even as gay men fight and die in the name of love under his command, NCR General Oliver may remark to Courier Six at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam: "If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

This writing pertains to institutionalized homophobia which manifests in practice though power structures and social interactions without being written into law. Simply put, in his derogatory remark, the general expresses to his army that military surrender is gay, much like their gay enemy. From the brevity and bluntness of this remark, it's clear that this sentiment is already well understood among his ranks. Logically, to project strength in the eyes of such a leader, one might also project homophobia by scrutinizing and harassing one's peers and subordinates. In this atmosphere, the expression of homophobia is not only normalized, but materially incentivized. For the ambitious, it becomes a tool, and a way of casting shame upon rivals. For the closeted, homophobia becomes a survival tactic, hoping to throw scrutiny off oneself. This is why Major Knight is immediately frightened when a male Courier flirts with him. He is so profoundly alienated that he romanticizes life as a gay man under the Legion. The Legion punish homosexuality with death, and yet Knight characterizes them as more "forgiving" than the NCR. Through these apparently disparate events, the audience can trace how a distorted perception of gay people emerges among insecure men in a military environment, and subsequently becomes ingrained in the corresponding civilian culture. At the 188 Trading Post, a lesbian from the Brotherhood of Steel named Veronica also wryly remarks that she believes legionaries have gay sex about as often as straight sex. She also notes that this only applies to men, as women have no rights whatsoever in Legion society. In this aside, she conveys a pre-existing frustration with lesbophobic social norms. Veronica also mentions that the people of her bunker would rather she remain on the surface. The Mojave Brotherhood of Steel has no official policy prohibiting homosexuality, but an implicit attitude among its dominant members that their limited numbers require everyone to have children to avoid extinction. Numerically, this may seem logical on the surface, given their reluctance to recruit outsiders. However, given their tiny population, this is an ineffective countermeasure, as they do not have nearly enough members to maintain genetic diversity for more than a few generations. This approach is not universally supported by all family units within the Brotherhood, but every individual is ultimately at the mercy of the elder. Veronica was in a lesbian relationship, but they were quietly separated by Elder Elijah, due to the dominant culture of enforcing heterosexual pairing among their population.

Caesar's law has not ended homosexuality within his domain. Despite the obvious risks, some legionaries have continued to pursue relationships behind closed doors, especially given their access to slaves. So long as members complete their societal obligations and fulfill the child quotas, they are able to pursue romance with other men in secret. Homosexual relationships in the faction are noted as being relatively equal compared to the average Legion husband and wife, in a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" sort of open secret policy. Gay legionaries must always make sure to keep their activities hidden. A centurion was once almost caught fraternizing with the teenage boy he had chosen to tend his tent. Despite previous "romantic" intentions, he quickly resolved to dispose of the slave to dispel suspicion. Had they been caught together, the centurion would have been charged with homosexuality and sentenced to death. This story is only known because the enslaved young man, Jimmy, managed to escape execution. Further illustrating the cruelty intrinsic to Legion governance, it's stated that homosexuality was the crime, and not the rape of a young slave; in fact, it seems Jimmy was forced to contribute to the child quota despite being a gay teenager, and the experience left him traumatized. He has resolved to never have sex with another woman, as the very notion triggers memories which fill him with disgust, and (in his own words) makes him feel like a slave all over again. The Strip is indifferent to gay people, viewing them as another opportunity to make caps. Both the Gomorrah and the Atomic Wrangler are interested in maximizing profits, and their prostitution services cater to clients regardless of their orientation. The openly gay Jimmy works at nearby Casa Madrid, but there is some tension among his peers due to his co-worker Maude's blatant homophobia. She supposes he's "okay, for one of those," and if propositioned by a female Courier, Maude will direct them to Sweetie for such "perverted" services. Pretty Sarah must regularly intervene to keep the peace among her staff.

The Followers of the Apocalypse, well-read punks who seek to embody healing through anarchistic values, are not concerned with gender. Most are openly and casually sexually active. Upon meeting Courier Six, Arcade Gannon offhandedly makes his gayness known, unprompted. The audience must face the fact that Arcade's apprehension of the Legion is far from abstract; under Legion law, he would be put to death. One possible ending gives further insight into Caesar's hypocrisy: should the player sell Arcade into slavery and leave Caesar alive, he will keep Arcade as a personal physician and philosophical advisor. They intellectually spar at length, and Caesar grows singularly fond of him. Accordingly, Arcade imitates the historic suicide of Cato the Younger by disemboweling himself. The Legion's remaining medics attempted to save his life, but none were Arcade's equal. Caesar understood his doctor's final gesture of contempt, and mourned him for months.

New Vegas ventures further into themes of healing from the trauma of sexual violence, from the perspective of a lesbian character. Corporal Betsy, an NCR sharpshooter, is a rape survivor, and suffers with PTSD from the incident. Her unprocessed trauma has manifested as a maladaptive tendency to aggressively and explicitly proposition the women she encounters, in an effort to reassert a sense of control. This defensive hypersexual impulse has negatively impacted her ability to connect with other women. A male superior officer notes that her behavior is inappropriate for anyone of her stature, but abstains from disciplining her out of sincere concern for her mental health. The Courier can help her begin to recognize these problems, and convince her to seek treatment from Doctor Usanagi at the New Vegas medical clinic, which proves helpful to her as she processes and heals from her trauma.

In Old World Blues, the Think Tank are five floating brains in jars who express themselves by waving robotic arms bearing screens depicting facial features. Before the War, they were federal scientists who committed crimes against humanity in the name of weapons development. Each is stuck in some sort of neuro-bionic feedback loop which prevents them from moving forward with their projects, mentally binding them to their central laboratory. Walking through their homes at Higgs Village, it's clear each was deeply neurotic before they were transformed into floating brains. Now without bodies, they attempt to maintain the illusion that they are exempt from sexuality as purely mental beings, but each displays obvious interest in the human form. They have codified this shaming with the term "formography." Most of the men are obsessively defensive over their complete disinterest in penises, which they talk about constantly. However, the shameless Dr. Dala shows overwhelming interest in observing and recording any and all human functions. Already androgynous in her pre-War life, Dala has taken to self-identifying as a "gender neutral entity" (though she is not known to use they/them pronouns). Regardless of the Courier's gender, they may coquettishly scratch themselves, clear their throat, and stretch in front of Dala until her biomed gel decoagulates. Dr. 8 also responds positively to graphic masturbation advice from Couriers of either gender. The X-8 research facility is ostensibly a massive immersive shrine to Doctor Borous's hatred of Richie "Ball-Lover" Marcus, a long-dead child who bullied Borous centuries ago. He also clings to his resentment of one Betsy Bright, who refused to attend a dance with him, supposedly so she could "go smoke with RICHIE MARCUS." Clearly arrested in development, Borous has literally built a temple to the fantasy of torturing his adolescent romantic rival and feeding him to dogs. His frozen, static characterization of the jock Richie Marcus as a "pinko-commie" who "likes balls" reflects the shallowness, pettiness, and overall misanthropy underlying his patriotic identity. It remains apparent throughout Old World Blues that the Think Tank are all chronically sexually repressed, which is inseparable from the values of the violent and judgmental pre-War culture which created them. With time and isolation, this ingrained repression has manifested as various intense and deranged psychosexual behaviors, including rage-fueled homophobia, voyeurism, and the obsessive performance of puritanical pretense.

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“Although I’ve been out for a very long time, I made a conscious effort to be out with relation to this project, as I wanted to be visible as a lesbian in the game industry. New Vegas itself is, I think, one of (if not the) best games out there in how we treat homosexuality – and all of that is very intentional.”

“If my work on FNV, if my being out has helped even one gay person, then I have succeeded.” — Tess “Obsidian’s Gay Cowgirl” Treadwell

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written (with help from other editors) for fallout.fandom.com/wiki/LGBT_representation_in_the_Fallout_series criticism welcome

#fnv

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hemmingsleclerc · 4 months

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i don’t know if u do request or not. but if you do could u wrote a dad!maxverstappen oneshot where mom!reader’s 4-6 ur old daughter doesn’t want to take a shower, so she interrupts max’s stream. i got this idea for that one stream a few days ago and i can’t get it out of my head. please and thank you🤍

Bath Time ┃MV1

Pairing: Dad!Maxverstappen x mom!reader

Warnings: none

It was a sunny afternoon and Max was enjoying a rare moment of downtime. He decided to start his Twitch stream, giving his fans an insight into his life off the court. While Max chatted with his audience while playing f1 '23, his girlfriend Y/N was facing a small but important domestic challenge.

Her 4-year-old daughter, Olivia, was in the middle of a heated confrontation with her mother. The battlefield? The bathroom. Olivia steadfastly refused to take a shower, asserting her independence with all the determination a toddler could muster.

In the Verstappen house, Y/N took charge of parenting duties and was not one to back down easily. As she tried to convince Liv to go to the bathroom, the girl's cries grew louder and echoed through the hallways of the large house.

Max, sitting in his gaming chair with headphones on, was mid-sentence, talking about his recent run when he heard the commotion. He frowned and removed an earpiece to capture the growing drama outside the room.

Y/N, with a mix of frustration and patience, shouted, "Via, it's time to shower, honey. Let's go now."

But Olivia wanted nothing to do with that. She broke free of Y/N's grip and her little feet scampered across the polished floor. Bursting into Max's gaming room, she threw herself onto his lap, tears streaming down her face.

"Daddy, I don't wanna take a shower! Tell Mommy I wanna stay with you!" Olivia's words tumbled out between sobs.

Max, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, looked at the camera with a bewildered expression. He chuckled as he realized his Twitch audience was witnessing a moment of fatherhood live.

"Uh, guys, it seems we have a little situation here," Max said, his eyes meeting the camera with a grin.

Following her, Y/N entered the room with an exasperated sigh. "Max, please. I need your help. Liv, it's just a quick shower, and then you can come back and hang out with dad, okay?"

Olivia, however, clung to Max and her screams turned to sobs. Max, always the good sport, put his arms around her, rubbing her back, trying to calm her little girl down, trying to stifle his laughter.

But since the door was still open, the cats ran into the room and climbed onto a small couch Max had somewhere in the room, starting to fight, causing more commotion to the whole thing.

Max was trying to calm his daughter when his words were interrupted by the loud sound of his country's national anthem, realizing that he was still live, and only managed to cover his face with both hands while his daughter continued crying, clinging to his neck and his girlfriend was trying to stop the cats from causing more damage.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh when she saw the scene that was unfolding. Everything had gotten out of control. Once she got the cats out of the room she couldn't help but smile as she saw the scene in front of her. Max, was now a comforting refuge for her daughter from the dreaded shower. The Twitch chat erupted with a mix of emojis and comments, turning the unexpected family moment into an endearing moment for Max's fans.

And so, with a little coaxing and a lot of laughing, Olivia finally agreed to take a shower, safe in the knowledge that more playtime with Dad awaited her afterwards. As Y/N led Via away, Max couldn't help but shake his head with a smile, realizing that even in the world of fast cars and competitive racing, family moments took center stage.

there you go love💗🤭 hope you like it

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thegnomelord · 7 months

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Lending a Hand

CW:NSFW @bluegiragi Monster tf141au go give her some love!, Werewolf Soap!, Harpy Gaz!, Mage reader!, Dom top Male reader, sub bottom Gaz and Soap, gratuitous depictions of sex, heat/rut, Dom/sub, anulingus, knotting, dirty talk (attempts at it anyway), Poly!TF141,

3k word long af fic because I overwrote again :/ asks are always welcome lol.

Price and Ghost had left you three to entertain yourselves while they went on a mission, and like every thing in Soap's life, his rut come in swinging out of nowhere. One moment he's playing some old racing game, sitting on the floor while you and Gaz sit on the harpys' bed, and the next — his nose is twitching and he swears he can taste your scents on his tongue, the heavenly combination of Gaz's spicy sweet cologne and your own harsher smell making heat burn in every cell of his body.

He feels Gaz's leg brush against his back and it makes every strand of hair on his body puff up, a low sound like rumbling thunder ringing in his ears and an overwhelming need to scent you two clawing at his brain. The controller falls from his hands when he turns to nuzzle his face into Gaz's leg, huffing in his scent like a man possessed, his mind already imagining all the times they've fucked and how fucking good Kyle had felt wrapped around his knot like a proper mate. His cock grows hard in his pants and his skin flushes when he realizes the low rumbling sound is coming from him; a mating growl that neither of you can answer.

"Soap, you alright there?" He moans hearing your voice, the sudden sensation of your hand on his shoulder and your heavy scent — corrupted by magic and smelling of overwhelming dominance as if you're a part of the nature running in his blood — has his tail curling up without prompting and back arching with a high pitched whine, clawed hands grasping at both of your legs now.

"Donnoe mates... feeling hoht all of a'udden." Soap slurrs, sight and mind going hazy, mind buzzing with heat. His cock is hardening in his pants, and there's a slickness between his thighs when he rubs them together.

"Shit, think the git's going into rut." Kyle says under his breath, his feathers ruffling up when he reaches out to feel the heat of Johnny's forehead. Soap moans at the skin contact only for it to turn into a growl when he realizes he can't scent you both at once. His body feels like it wants to rip itself in half to hold both of you, to cover both you and Gaz in his scent and fuck, but with only one body he does the next best thing and pivots on his knees to shove his face where the scent is the strongest — your crotch.

"Fuck- MacTavish!" You hiss, immediately trying to shove him. He clings to you like a fly to shit, whining incomprehensible words and chest stinging from rejection. His body shakes and shifts, not the sudden transformation you're used to seeing on the battlefield but a minute gradual change parallel to his need. Clawed hands grip your legs, his clothes straining at the seams when he pants against your crotch, tail curled up in an desperate attempt to gain his mates' attention; to show how strong and good and ready he is.

"Shit, sorry lad." Kyle gives an awkward cough. "Help me with him yeah? My arse won't be able to handle him like this." He says and doesn't even have enough decency to look embarrassed about his words, reaching out to tug on Soap's hair like he knows Johnny likes, Kyle's attempts to tug him away only making him burry his face into your groin even more.

"You sure, won't I be taking advantage of him?" You go to ask if this would be too much, if you'd be crossing a line when Soap's like this — blissed out and barely himself — even if you feel your cock harden from his nuzzling.

"Yeah... you're fine— he'd had bit you by now if he was against it." Gaz says with a small awkward giggle all first time lovers make, not at all realizing it's not the best thing to say when you have a half transformed werewolf shoving his face into your dick. "We trust you mate." He admits; even if you've been on the team a few months, even if your past isn't all that reputable — they trust you. Both of them.

Soap's not paying attention to what's being said, how could he when he can smell you and feel your cock through your pants, and fuck he wants it needs it in him now. He mouths at your cock, uncaring and unaware of his fangs painfully scraping and digging into your skin through your clothes. All he wants is to taste that cock, his body growing bigger and clothes ripping at the seams as his mind conjured up thoughts of fucking and being fucked.

His insides clench pitifully around nothing and he needs a cock to push deep inside him and stretch him wide until he's knotted and round with pups. His knot feels hard and cold and he needs to feel tight heat of a mate around his knot that he can breed full of his cum. He needs... he needs—

"Fine! Fine!" You give in with a hiss when Johnny's teeth dig into your pants in an attempt to get to your cock. You tug him up by the hair your grip harsher and firmer than Kyle's, everything about you feeling so overwhelmingly dominant he doesn't even try to fight, only trying to get closer to you.

You have to brace yourself when he bears down on you, teeth going to mark up your throat the moment he can push his face into your neck. You groan when he bites down on your neck with sharp teeth and Gaz croons softly, pushing himself close to you both, his large wings twitching excitedly when Soap answers with a low whiny growl of his own. His attention pivots and now he's trying to scent and mark the harpy until you shift just a bit and his head ricochets back to your neck, teeth creating a warzone on both of your necks.

"Alright, Gaz, on the bed." You order and yank Soap's head back when he bites too close to your jugular. Gaz moves to follow your order and you have to hold Soap by the hips to keep him from lunging at Kyle because his mate is going away and he can't have that!

"Wait." Your harsh and rough voice falls on deaf ears as Soap continues to shift and get bigger, his shirt tearing off his body and the button of his pants popping open. The sudden release of his cock has Soap whining low and loud and rocking his hips into the air as if already mating and his tail smacking against your leg as a sign for you to just fuck him already. "What the fuck did I just say?" You growl and grab his clothed dick in a harsh grip.

"So- fock- ry, sorry!" Soap manages, his hips still doing small thrusts in an attempt to grind his slick backside against your crotch despite your chastising.

"Well aren't you bossy." Gaz teases and watches you two with a hungry dark look in his eyes, already naked and reclining on the bed, his back tensing as he forces his wings to retract into his body. God knows a rutting Soap doesn't have enough brain space not to crush his wings while fucking him.

Your eyes meet Gaz's. "How about he preps you?" Your question has Johnny's canine tongue lolling out of his maw automatically as if Gaz needs more convincing.

"Jesus, fuck yeah," Gaz breathes out, not even needing to be told what position to take. He flops on his stomach, laying his head on a pillow and pushes his knees beneath him to raise his arse into the air and spread his thighs wide open, vulnerable hole and hard cock almost shamelessly on display.

"God, look at you Gazzy, so eager to get your ass eaten out?" You coo, enjoying the view as much as Soap is. "Or are you imagining how pretty you'll look stuck on this big knot?" You ask, catching his eyes as you pull down Soap's boxers down just enough for his dick to poke out, already hard and wet and leaking pre like a faucet.

"How about it boy? Can you use that mouth of yours for something useful this once?" You tease Soap with your words, keeping him from lunging at Gaz. Your rough words and even rougher hold on him has Johnny nodding his head as fast as he can, unintelligent words rolling from his mouth.

"Get on with it you bloody git." Kyle demands with a blush, arching his back.

"You heard him, be good and stretch him out for your knot properly...or else." The slight edge of danger in your tone has Soap paying attention even when your words go in one ear and out the other and he dives face first into Gaz's backside the moment you let go of him. Soap wastes no time and immediately slobbers all over Kyle's skin, drawing surprised squawks from the other man as his tongue licks from his balls up to his arse and back again. It doesn't take long for Soap to concentrate on his hole, even less for Soap to bully his tongue inside Gaz flooding his hole with slobber and stretching him wide open.

"Oh fock, oh shit..." Kyle burrows his head into the pillow, trying and failing to hide his harsh moans and small chirps and sharp 'ah, ah, ah's with every twist and turn of Soap's wide and longue tongue. He doesn't care when Soap grip his thighs so hard that bruises bloom immediately, not when Soap buries his face deeper into his arse that Soap's nose is flush with his tail bone and his canine tongue abuses his prostate.

"Such eager lads." You chuckle and settle behind Soap, pulling what remains of his pants down his thighs and off him. He growls at you, before your presence registers in his mind and his tail is curling up and as soon as the pants are down he's spreading his thighs and arching his back and wiggling his arse like a trained whore. He's leaking like a tap on both ends, his cock rock hard and knot half engorged and slick staining his skin from hole to mid thigh.

"Already wet for me Johnny? And here I thought you're supposed to fuck bitches—" You grab his tail and tug it up making Gaz scream a loud-"Fuck!"- when Johnny jumps and his tongue pushes as far as it can go. "—not be one."

Soap's shaking and his dick's leaking from the rough treatment of his tail, but the appendage wags even as you manhandle it. "Shit, mate, don't stop talking." Gaz moans into the pillow, claws and talons desperately clinging to the bedding with every thrust and twist of Soap's tongue. It's like your words are a drug that push both of them deeper and deeper into lust, Soap's brain long since melted into his dick.

"Yeah? You like how good Johnny's eating you Gaz?" You ask, your fingers grasping and playing with Soap's ample ass. "Does he taste good Johnny? Just think how tight he's going to be around you, you'll stretch him good huh?" Soap can do nothing but whine at the absolute filth leaving your lips, each word urging and commanding him to shove his tongue deeper, to cover every inch of his spongy walls in spit, of bashing his prostate with his tongue until Gaz's moaning and squawking like a bitch in heat.

"Good boy," Your fingers trace against Soap's hole and fuck he's so wet for you that you don't even need to get lube, holding his tail by the base you hook and push your thumb into his waiting hole and Soap howls as his body clenches down so hard you'd think he was aiming to break bones.

"Biased much mate?" Gaz croaks and chuckles between his moans, his hips moving into Soap's face in a desperate attempt to cum, stray loose feathers disappearing between the sheets.

"Good boys." You correct yourself, pulling your thumb out despite Soap's desperate whines and pushing two fingers into him at once, setting a harsh and quick pace that has both of them whining and moaning and growling.

Your fingers are thick and calloused from years of magic use and they stretch Soap out so good he can't help but moan into Kyle's hole, barely able to pant with spit running down his lips. His rut made his prostate so big your large fingers find it as soon as you're knuckles deep and you're quick to rub and press on it with all the finesse of a tank. You keep firm hold of him by his tail and Soap cums as soon as you push three fingers down on his prostate, white ropes of cum shooting into the sheets and pulling Gaz into his own orgasm.

"Good lads, you did good." The pride in your voice has their hearts beating just a little quicker, reaching over you tug Johnny's head away from Kyle's ass with a lewd and depraved 'squelch' 'shlich' ringing through as Johnny rolls his tongue into his mouth. Shit, Gaz looks so wrecked already, wet sounds echoing through the room every time his hole clenches around nothing. Johnny's so big now, at least a foot taller than you now, but he submits so prettily to you...

Pulling your fingers out of Johnny earns you a rumbling growl, his cock not even having softened hips grinding back on yours. "Hush now." You order with your mouth close to his pointy ear, "Don't worry Johnny, you'll be nice and full of cock in no time."

Kyle shifts and gains your attention. "Kyle, you okay? Need to tap out?" You ask, pushing your absolutely drenched fingers into Soap's mouth to quiet his whining, you don't mind his teeth nicking your fingers and Johnny's so lustdrunk to care about who's slick he's tasting only that it makes his cock that much harder.

"That- nah." Kyle breathes, completely boneless but still managing to perk his arse up a bit. "Come on, just wanna feel 'im, please."

"You heard him Johnny." Pulling your fingers out of his mouth you guide Johnny to mount Gaz, one hand firmly on his tail and the other wrapped around the tip of his cock so all he can do is uselessly hump Gaz without penetrating him. Johnny doesn't even notice you teasing the both of them when you rub his tip against Gaz's hole every time his hips pull back, only to angle his cock up the second Johnny tries to thrust into Kyle.

"Focking git!" Gaz whines, and you don't need to see him beneath Soap's broad and large frame to know he's glaring at you. "Get on with it or I swear I'll string everything you own up in the trees." His threat would be a lot scarier if his voice wasn't weak and whiny from your teasing.

"Spoilsport." You tease back, blindly angling Johnny's cock tip against his hole, easing your grip and letting Soap slide his cock into Gaz in an agonizingly slow pace until only his knot remained outside of Gaz with your calloused hand clutching it. "Feels good?" You receive moans and low growls in response, Soap's mind so consumed by the heavenly heat around his cock he can do nothing but pant and thrust his hips forward. "Okay, okay, be good now." You laugh and let go of his cock.

The second his proverbial collar is taken off Soap wastes no time and begins fucking Gaz in earnest, biting down hard on his shoulder, hips and tail a blur of movement and all of his lupine strength going into jackhammering his cock as deep as fast into Gaz as he physically can. The bed 'thump, thump, thump's against the wall wall with every violent thrust, drowned out by Kyle's moans and whines and shouts Johnny manages to pull each time his balls slap against Gaz's. You can even see the way his knot stretches Gaz's ass, his hole greedily clenching around the bulb as it grows bigger and bigger with every hip shattering thrust that leaves Gaz grasping at clawing at whatever he can reach.

You don't even have time to finish undressing before Johnny's shoving his cock deep inside and cumming with a deep growl, his teeth firmly latched onto Gaz's flesh and knot keeping them tied together.

Kyle groans when Soap collapses on top of him, arms wrapped firmly around him and pinning him down to the bed as every bit of strength leaves the werewolf. "That was fast." You chuckle, going to turn them to their sides so Soap isn't crushing Gaz. You notice Gaz is still hard like a rock, a little bulge in his stomach where Johnny's cock and cum fill his insides. Even after cumming twice Soap still tries to fuck in his delirium but manages only small little shuffles of his hips that only succeed in making his seed slosh around inside Gaz.

"Insatiable monsters." You tease, one hand tracing the belly bulge and lifting Soap's leg up on your shoulder with the other, his thighs even slicker now than before.

"Man... shu'it." Gaz slurs, watching you stroke your cock a few times with hooded eyes, Soap's head buried in his shoulder and teeth creating more marks on his skin. Soap turns cuddly after a good rut, at least until it starts all over again. "Fuck, you gonna...?"

"Yep." You say, sliding closer. It's an odd position to take and your back is going to complain later, but it's more than worth it when you finally get to slide inside Johnny's soaking wet arse, pulling low groans from both of them as it makes Johnny's cock slide a bit deeper. "Shit, you're so tight Johnny."

Gaz can feel the cock inside him twitch from your praise and the vibrations of a purr through his skin as Soap tries to thrust his hips back into yours despite the knot and Soap's arms not willing to let him separate from Gaz. You begin with a slow pace and every rock of your hips has the knot inside Kyle pushing and pulling on his poor oversensitive insides, Soap's cum sloshing inside him. He already feels so full and like there's fire in his veins, but this slow and deep pace you set has his head tilting down and body fully relaxing and letting himself just feel.

Despite being mentally checked out for a while, a little bit of Soap's lucidity comes back now that he's knotted; Everything he can smell everything he can feel everything he is zeroes down on his groin, on the heavenly heat wrapped around his knot and your unhurried but strong thrusts. That's what he needs right now— to forget what it feels like to be empty and feel a hard cock spearing his insides and bullying his prostate and leaving him drooling on Gaz's skin.

You manage to push them into cuming again before your own climax reaches you and you cum deep in Soap, who in response bites down on Gaz's shoulder again. You try to pull away but Soap growls and whines, he doesn't want to feel empty again when you'd filled him so fucking good, he wants you to stay like this, keep him nice and full with your cum.

Gaz blindly grabs at you, vocalizing what Soap can't. "Stay." He manages to slur, looking like he's ready to fall asleep any second with Johnny already snoozing the moment you stop moving.

Despite the stickiness you're no doubt going to wake up with, you sigh and settle down behind Soap, throwing a hand around his massive frame and not even noticing when exhaustion claims you.

...

"Well would'ou look at that, really tuckered themselves out." Price's voice rings somewhere at the edge of your subconsciousness, though it's hard to tell when exhaustion has you so firmly by the throat you can barely open your eyes.

"Could have turned their mics off." It takes you a moment to recognize Ghost's voice somewhere near you, your body almost not your own as it nuzzles into the warm back in front of you.

This time a chuckle comes, "Don't say it as if you didn't like it." There's a teasing lilt to his voice, but your attention is stolen away when Soap moves and only now you realize that not only are you still inside him, but he's far from satisfied.

You don't even think he's awake yet his hips start moving again, pulling sounds from both you and Gaz because fuck your dick's so oversensitive you think it might fall off.

"Howa 'bout we leave them to it hmm? Looks like he's got his hands full." Price's referring to you, and you hear his snort when Soap whines and thrusts his hips back into yours again with enough force you swear you hear something creak.

God help you...and your pelvis.

#centerpieces of the hoard #x reader #cod mw2 #top reader #male reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #monster 141 au #polyTF141 #sub john soap mactavish #sub gaz #top male reader #this got way too long but im too lazy to shorten it #mage reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x male reader #soap x male reader #Here's to hoping I didn't make this too OOC

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diejager · 6 months

Note

Hey! I'm new here but what I've seen of your blog so far I've consumed appreciatively.

Could I please get an Alejandro Vargas x f!reader anything nsfw with a breeding schmink?? I know that man wants a soccer team.

Perhaps he'd seen the reader take care of a kid/s in his family and she's really good with them, she's always wanted her own so when something clicks with Alejandro, man is on a mission that doesn't take very much convincing on the readers part.

Thank you 🤍

Parenthood

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

Cw: breeding kink, pregnancy, soft sex, creampie, service dom!Alejandro, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.4k (A/N): I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t really like it and it feels a bit rushed and just bad.

His heart nearly stopped when he turned around, the sight making him choke down a breath. He’d forgotten for a second that he was in public, gracing the cleaned streets of Las Almas, the cartel driven away by the joint force of Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros. Breath stolen away in a whisper of love and admiration, he watched you play with the children, small and precious, sitting on your haunches with the kids surrounding you in a crowd of loud chatting and adorable giggles. His knees felt weak when he caught your eyes, glancing his way with a smile gracing your lips, the warm and motherly gleam in your beautiful eyes and the way you held the small fingers of a child between your soft fingers.

“Oh, mi amor,” he sighed, feeling his cheeks flush brightly, chest filling up with warmth, a comforting and burning heat that pulsed through his body like a plague.

He remembered that he wore the clothes of a civvy, he was but a man and a husband outside of the uniform, outside of the base, and outside of the battlefield. He moved slowly when you beckoned him towards you, hand leaving the child to wave him over, fingers curling and smile so enticing to kiss. He bowed to your whim, crouching beside you to greet the kids, smiling warmly and coaxing them forward with the promise of a piggyback ride. It made him wonder how energetic and joyous his house would be with children running around the place.

You fell back on the bed, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, your hair was a mess and your clothes ruffled, riding over your abdomen, the edge of your lacy bra peeking under your shirt. Alejandro was quick to undress you, pulling your shirt over your head and your shorts down your legs, he unclipped your bra and pulled your panties to your ankles. He sat up, admiring your nakedness, the smooth curves of your hips and the sheen of sweat coating your skin. He shrugged his clothes off, lips wrapping around your nipples once his shirt was off, teeth nipping at your collar and neck before trailing down your stomach to kiss your slick folds.

He shuddered at the taste of your pussy, tongue lapping at your clit, rolling the tip over your sensitive button. He drank up your moans as he drank up your slick, lips latching to your nub, sucking while his hands moved up your thighs, gripping the apex of it and dipping into you. With two fingers, he slipped them between your lips, teasing you while he still had the self-control to. He had to hold you down, despite your squirming and mewls being addicting, he needed you to stay still for him to make you come before he snapped.

“God, Ale-” you knocked your head back when you felt him push a finger in, pumping in and out, and curling upwards.

He groaned, eyes rolling back at the wet squelch of his finger - fingers, now that he added another one to stretch you out - and curling them against your spongy wall, in search of your sweet g-spot. His cock rubbed against the tightness of his boxers, being confined to his pants while he serviced you in a way that any husband should with his precious wife if he wanted her happy, rutting against the bed.

He drove in, panting as if he ran a marathon, out of breath from the excitement and control he exerted on himself. He wanted you to come first, to feel you fall over the edge, to watch your back arch and toes curl before he fucked his child into you, to fill you with his cum and love. He shifted his hand, digits pounding upwards in fast and erratic motions, rigid as he pushed on, listening to your yelp turning into whimpers and mewls mixing together as your toes curled, fingers gripping the bed sheets.

“Come for me, mi amor,” he mumbled against your clit, his voice rumbling down to your core. “C’mon.”

He felt you jerk, your thighs closing around his head and your walls clamping down on his fingers, pulsing wildly with every loud mewls and moans. He helped you ride out your climax, pumping slowly while you panted, keeping his fingers relaxed until you calmed down. He pressed his lips to your navel, right over your womb, moving up with his little pecks, cheeky and loving. He could spend his days worshipping you with his lips, his hands and his cock, but you pulled him towards your lips, mouth moving feverishly against his, chasing the taste of your cunt on his tongue. He groaned, tongue meeting yours in a dance, rolling over yours and slipping between your teeth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the salty tang slipping onto your tongue. His eyes closed in the moments, lost in the softness and enrapture of your being, mind zoned into your hands wandering over his neck, short nails caressing down his chest, over the curves of his sculpted abdomen and to the waistband of his briefs.

You pulled them down, slipping your fingers under the waistband and pushing them down his strong thighs and muscled ass, his hard and angry cock bobbing and slapping his happy trail. He kicked them off, as impatient as he was to undress you, throwing his boxers somewhere behind him. He grasped your hips, ready to lay you down on your back and kiss you away, but you pushed him back, forcing him to sit on his ass as you straddled him. He let out a soft moan, your wet and warm cunt grinding down on his leaky cock, his bulbous head nudging the hood of your clit.

“Please, corazón.”

Hands planted on his shoulders and him supporting your weight by your hips, you sank, feeling his cock stretch you open. You shared a groan, Alejandro’s cock filling you inch by inch, swallowed by your pulsing walls. You moved slowly, hips bucking as you rode him, steadily taking him deeper with every roll, rocking down until he bottomed out, sitting flush on his lap, thighs wet and body sweaty. He kissed you reverently, holding you to his chest as you shifted, legs pushing you up and down, skin slapping together in echoing squelch, wet and filthy as the words he whispered in your ear.

He voiced his wishes of wanting to become a father, of wanting to breed your fertile womb, of wanting to see your stomach swell with life. He’d drink the milk from your swollen tits, the sweet and warm dribble of milk that would leak from your overfilled breasts. He’d hold and caress your round stomach, watching it grow with the passing months and caring for your every whim. He promised you he’d make you a mother, to care for you during your pregnancy and to watch over your little bébé, holding them in his arms, kissing them with the gentle press of his lips, and letting them grab his finger.

Alejandro promised you the world as he bucked upwards, fucking himself into you with a delirious mind and stuttering pace. You rocked down, thighs burning with exhaustion and cramping, working to ride up and down on his throbbing cock, the crossing veins rubbing against your back wall. Your cunt pulling him in, the knot in your core tightening with a strong pulse, coaxing him closer to his end. Alejandro looked as strained as you were, breathing heavily, chest puffing up with broken groans and skin gleaming with sweat. He chased his release, lips catching yours with an open-mouthed kiss, tongue swirling around yours, sharing warm breaths.

“Alejandro-” you swore, “I love you- I- fuck… Te amo. Te amo, Ale.”

You felt his cock jump, a sudden and strong thrust, slamming his head to your cervix had you reeling, coil in your navel snapping. Moans rolled down your tongue, body shuddering strongly as your legs buckled under you, knees falling and depending on him to ride out your high. His name and I love yours slipped from you, egging Alejandro on with every confession, especially the ones in Spanish. It doesn’t take long for him to come, your release being the catalyst for his. Cum spurted from his slit, painting your walls with his potent load and filling your womb, hips stuttering until he stilled, sitting motionless on his lap.

You both gasped, breath laboured as you leaned into him, forehead touching one another. Your eyes searched his warm, brown ones, the swirl of love in them had you swooning for the man you married. You felt full and warm, loved and taken cared of, in Alejandro’s arms with your mouth locked, sharing a moment withouting needing to voice out your emotions.

“Do you think it’ll take?” You mumbled, pressing your head under his chin.

He hummed, his throat rumbling from the low sound.

“We’ll try again if it doesn’t.”

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro smut #mw2 smut #cod mw2 smut #x fem!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #tw: breeding #tw: smut

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rizkyworkz · 3 months

Text

"We've learnt that a reputation for stability and control in a testing ground doesn't constitute to stability in the field. Too bad it took our platoon to learn it the hard way.

"Our commanding officer, Liddl, was some rich kid from one of the Core Worlds. Brought himself a custom-made SSC Monarch -- you should've seen that thing, all shiny and painted around our dingy trucks and chassis. Boasted it had a fridge inside where he kept his drinks.

"Since it had a rather... inconspicuous appearance, we expected it to be blown to bits in the first sortie. But no, it survived for a whole two months, each time coming back to battle fixed-up and repainted -- Liddl did it himself, not trusting any of us, that prick.

"Don't matter much now.

"His last sortie... I was in the back line, keeping supplies safe while he cleared out the valley. But then some sniper landed a lucky hit on that thing's COMP//CON servos, and for some reason it sent Bliss -- the TLALOC-class NHP, nice lady, loves her inventory -- to a frenzy.

"Shot out so many rockets the sky got cloudy. Kept flying til the fuel ran out, then it started raining explosives.

"Liddl, as it turns out, wasn't exactly the best of partner to Bliss. So when the prick decided to eject, all active missiles just changed course and struck him. Got nothing for his coffin; neither me nor Bliss attended it.

"Well, that's how I got my Monarch and, uh, wife. Love can bloom in the battlefield, kid. Just gotta fertilise it with blood."

#fanart #lancer rpg #lancer #mecha #NHP #Monarch #Tlaloc

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hanniejji · 1 year

Text

silence

[ wanderer!scaramouche x okami!reader ]

summary: completely lost after his defeat in becoming a god, he searches not only for a new purpose but also for a certain someone who brought him comfort greater than his own kin would.

notes: aka scara is a baby and comes crying to you because he's a sore loser /jk | m.list

words: 2933 | warnings: it's scaramouche /jk there's nothing bad here just comfort and shit, also the pacing is kinda shitty cause i wrote this at work lmao

you have always loved the silence.

the eerie silence that enveloped a battlefield after a fight, where one side mourns for the dead and the other celebrates their victory far away. the tranquil noises of nature in the forest, your abode—if you focus enough, you can hear the white noise of the wind rushing above the sky, the flight of birds, the footsteps of every animal within your vicinity, and the gushing waterfall hitting the surface below. the muted thoughts of people, all with voices to scream yet defiance against authority means death, so they choose to silence their cries for help. the stillness of the night, where you can faintly hear the howls of your kin from afar, reminding you of past battles won and lost.

but somewhere in the distant memory of your past, you miss the complaints of a certain boy whose voice never seemed to shut the hell up.

your words, not mine.

he used to be so loud, crying even whilst he slept. whining and complaining about how you imprisoned him in this otherworldly forest of yours, yet he shuts his mouth after being reminded of his reality of being a casualty to those he comes across.

a puppet gone mad, out of its master's control, strings tangled.

"you're not here to be tamed, brat."

"then why are you keeping me here?" kunikuzushi glares at you from the other side of the stone table, a hand gripping the knife you casually gave him so he could practice on his own.

you always seemed to be his dummy target though. not that he could hurt you in the slightest, the gap between your capabilities is that of the height you need to reach celestia. it's quite an exaggeration, but far from a lie.

"so you don't go around accidentally causing more unintentional problems. learn how to use your brain or something, you have one for a reason," was always your answer to his repeated question, laughing at the way his face contorted to apprehension. "i don't have the patience to shape you into whatever humane person or puppet your creator wants you to be. so i'm doing you a favor by letting you be whatever the fuck you want to be. kill whoever you want, destroy whatever you want, go pour your anger as much as you want. it matters little to me."

"doesn't that contradict your past obligation as inazuma's former defender?"

"exactly what the title says," you shrug your shoulders, throwing your hands up without energy, "that is in the past. inazuma's concerns do not matter to me now that my god is gone."

placing your chin on your palm, you send him a knowing smirk, a sight he realizes that he does not like, "you can destroy this nation all you want and i wouldn't mind one bit. it would be interesting to see you as a god and not just a little brat."

he would always grow silent after the nth time you had this conversation, pondering, imagining the imagery of what you just said. it's almost as if he's in a trance.

the silence of someone having an inner conflict in more ways than one, is something that you would say is better than the silence when someone is mourning.

because this kind of silence is always followed by chaos.

"oh? where do you think you're going, little doll?"

"stop calling me that," he hissed, turning his head to glare at you.

for some reason, the change in his personality these past few months was refreshing, so unlike the whiny little brat who used to cower away from you. the same brat who's always frustrated at himself.

but at the same time, it's such a shame that he didn't change his ways. still reckless and careless.

this recklessness will kill him someday, you thought.

"well, answer the question."

he falters, taking a few steps away from you when you tilt your head, urging—demanding for his answer. he still couldn't look you straight in the eyes when you become like this—when your voice goes a little deep, eyes staring him down and the authority in the way you poised yourself.

"to the fatui. i'm not going to let myself rot in here."

"you're a puppet, you're not supposed to rot."

he scoffs at the comment, vile irritation building up his throat at the way you remained unbothered, almost uncaring, indifferent and as if this means little to you. you act more like a puppet than he does, he realizes.

he hates that about you.

it's ironic. he's the same way, more venomous through his words—but with you, it's like talking to a stone cold wall.

"i'm leaving to snezhnaya."

"hm," you turn your head to the vast forest, shrouded with tall trees and thick fog—wait, when did the fog get so thick? kunikuzushi was so sure he could still see far and beyond the first few layers of those trees, why did the forest suddenly seem so eerie and… predatory.

"you can leave."

"huh?" he stares at you in disbelief, with a hint of sadness.

are you… really going to let him go that easily?

for some reason, despite the freedom given to him, he wanted you to stop him.

"find the exit yourself," your trademark grin appeared on your face, challenging and daring him to do so. it's infuriating, makes him feel like you're looking down at him and his capabilities. "if you successfully get out of this forest, then i trust that you can handle the world outside and beyond this nation."

i take back my words, he scoffs, i don't need their permission to leave. they can't stop me.

"i don't need another petty test of yours, i can take care of my own," he sharply turns away and into the direction he swore was the exit just a moment ago.

"oh, trust me, doll," your giggles echoed through the forest, ringing in his ears for the last time, way too close than from where you just stood a moment ago.

"the forest is a cruel place to get lost in."

and since then, your abode returned to the way it was.

placid, motionless, and isolated. just like how it should be.

yet you look forward to the day that he comes back crying—you stifle a laugh at how pitiful he would look—scrunched nose and furrowed eyebrows, grumbling curses to the world as he slumps down on the ground, hissing at you as you tease him for being a baby before he falls asleep on the sprawled blanket you have in the living room of your cabin. your spirit watches over his sleep, dispersing his nightmares before it can even take root in his mind and blanketing him with your tail despite his inability to feel the change in the temperature.

no, he's too deep in his sleep to ever catch you doing such things.

some days, you'd sense a feeling of fear crawling inside the back of your head. it takes a form of visions and voices. it would whisper using the boy's voice, show images using his face, speak in a way he does. it's times like this that you take pride in your strength. you know better than to crumble against fear and its illusions. such emotions are not strong enough to push through the height of your defenses that were built from piles upon piles of lost loved ones.

yet your heart clenches at the thought of this boy, robbed of the opportunity to grow properly, succumbing to the demons of this world.

it's a shame that even you can't be the person to guide him, for you are the same as he.

you can only hope that he finds himself in his journey.

"ah, it seems like it's that time of the year once again."

you stretch your limbs with a pur-like groan, your tail swinging in anticipation behind you. now that the weariness from sleep had faded, your sharp eyes admire the red and orange colors blending within the forest, the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet every step you take music to your ears and the cold breeze wafting in the air.

the season of fall always brings out the playful side of your soul.

your attentiveness is sharper than usual, eyes turning to every little bit of movement in your surroundings despite knowing that no threat can occur in your abode. you carved its landscape with your very own hand, grew each and every tree rooted on the ground, wrote protective spells into every tree bark to form your very own barrier, opened ponds and breathed life into its very ground through the leylines. it's your safe haven, nothing can disturb your peace and it is a part of you to an extent.

that's way, when a familiar presence stepped inside your abode with no struggles whatsoever, your ears perked up and tail sways in anticipation.

fall is indeed a season for farewells and reunions.

"you're back quite earlier than expected, did the world outside the forest scare you?" you needn't look to know that he's standing right at the entrance of your favorite clearing, your figure sat near the pond with your feet dipped into the clear water.

"you're exaggerating," he grumbles, footsteps getting louder and closer until he's close enough, stopping just next to you.

"most certainly not," you hummed softly, tilting your head up to look at him after a few hundred years of not seeing him. your ears twitched.

instantly, you know something is different about him.

"you've changed."

"hmp, perhaps," he scoffs loudly, taking a seat beside you in a criss-cross position, slouching a little bit. he's barely looking at you, but that's not something new.

the way you imagined he would years ago.

"you're still grumpy though, might want to change that."

"you're still insufferable. i shouldn't have come back."

"yet you're here. i'm surprised you were able to enter without a problem. i was hoping the forest devoured you when you left. turns out you were able to get out, a shame," you sigh, "i should check on my barriers soon."

"you—" he hisses—the same way you adored, like an angry kitten—turning his head to glare at you, forehead scrunched in irritation, "so you don't even know if anyone gets caught in your shithole? did you assume i just up and died right before i got out?"

he can feel something warm in his chest at the way you laughed freely.

he hasn't heard that sound for a long time.

"you're alive though," he groaned at the familiar sly smile on your face. "besides, i wouldn't have let you go if i didn't know that you'd make it out alive."

"you would in a heartbeat."

"hm, if it were someone else, perhaps. but not you," you turn your head back to the pond, a contented smile on your face, voice unintentionally turning soft, "not my brat."

those words were the key to kunikuzushi's vulnerable state.

the silence that followed after your words was… unnerving, for some reason.

yet you felt as if you should give him the time he needs to gather himself, to give him a choice to talk or to keep things to himself. it stayed like that for a while, tuning into the sound of birds above and humming to make him more comfortable—or was it for your own comfort that you tried to fill in the silence? the feeling of being unsure is so… uneasy.

why am i doing so much for his comfort?

just when you're about to speak to change the topic, he opens his mouth—and he speaks.

piles and piles of words upon words, like a scroll being unravel down the flight of stairs to the narukami shrine. his voice, clumsy and blurry words as it may be, sings to you tragedies in a kabuki performance. he opens his doors to you and only you, almost breaking down on the spot if it wasn't for his ridiculous pride—you surmise that you may have influenced him in that case. it plays a theatrical scene that takes eternity to finish dialogues upon dialogues.

he's a puppet whose strings are cut short, but he picks himself up, tangling the fragile strings in the process.

and you are his only audience.

you're his standing ovation when no one bothers to stop and see him for what he is.

perhaps, you are more suited to be sat beside him, joining in his play instead of just a witness—because you are more than just some random bystander who happens to pass by a puppet show.

it took him a while to finish his story. just like any kabuki, time is crucial in the production, and kunikuzushi is a person who barely had the time to see the world in its purest form. yet time is also what brought him his demise.

the gods did not give him enough time to feel and learn.

when he finishes, the sun has already hid itself behind the ocean of trees and the sky is blanketed by a starry void.

a false sky, he said in one of his stories.

somehow, kunikuzushi's head ended up on your lap—he dares not to bring attention to this fact, he already feels embarrassed as it is.

"how did it felt?"

he stares at you with a grain of salt.

"to what? to almost die? quite the experience, i didn't enjoy falling head first though. would you like to try?"

"no, dumbass," he hisses when your finger flicks against his forehead. before he could even cover the assaulted area, you swat his hand away to replace it with yours. an uncharacteristic gentle touch on his skin, a caress. he resists the urge to melt towards your hand. "how did it feel like to almost have something within your reach but realize it won't do you any better? to learn how to decide for yourself, for the better, after experiencing bitter defeat?"

he purses his lips, turning away from your direction to stare at the pond reflecting the dark sky.

your hand slips across his forehead to his hair, gently caressing the familiar stresses—familiar stresses that reminded you so much of a former dear friend that you lost long ago. you didn't expect him to answer your question yet, to push forward for an answer would be adding salt to an open wound.

and the last thing you want to do is give him a reason to pull away.

"you know, if i was ei, i would have chosen you to rule with me."

"stop saying things to make me feel better, that's not like you," he scoffs—unbeknownst to the way his cheeks turn a little warmer.

such a human feature to have.

"i would love to see you be the god you wanted to be," you continued to mutter with a soft smile, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"stop it."

"i would watch you build yourself higher and have greater goals as a god."

"what is wrong with you!?" he quickly pushes himself off of you, whipping his head to look at you with a bewildered face. "are you out of your mind!?" he glares at the way your smile turns sly.

"i would have chosen you, someone with no human heart yet able to feel what it's like to be human," your hand pats his head playfully, snickering when he swats it away roughly.

"you," growling, he turns away from your direction.

"but alas, i'm not patient enough to baby you or anyone else," you shake your head shamefully, shrugging your shoulders. "go do whatever the fuck you want yourself, learn shit for yourself. but that does not mean you can do it alone, dumbass."

"why are you talking like this?" he mumbles, but you can see the way his shoulder trembled in the slightest, no doubt nibbling on his bottom lip to stop himself from something as 'pitiful' as crying. "shut up, i came here to rest, not to listen to your nonsense musings. i had enough of that already."

"well then," you reach out to his shoulder, gently directing him back on your lap. he faces you this time, eyes clenched tight to avoid looking at you, his only pillar in this world. he feels too light headed, whether if it's from your words or the feeling of finally resting after so many years of suffering, he's not too sure. he'd deny the former with everything he has though. but he cannot deny that he feels safe in your haven, here in the comfort of your arms.

"rest, you can think of the next step after you get some shuteye, don't make me knock you out myself."

he clicked his tongue, before it became quiet again.

this time, it's a comfortable silence. nothing like the tension from the first time you met him, nothing like the few times he spent quietly sobbing on your shoulder every time he awakes from a nightmare—nothing like the eerie quietude in the middle of the eye of the storm, waiting for the real disaster to come surging. soon, the boy falls asleep to the warm and loving touch on his head.

in the silence, you whisper words that you could not tell him.

"i would've gone through celestia and the abyss to give you a heart."

you, despite claiming that you will not baby him, held him in a way a parent would towards their child. with gentle hands and feathery touches, and a heart that you would give him if you could.

taglist: crossed out names mens i can't tag you oof

@thedianaclark @blockswon @thenyxsky @crazypriestess @someone-with-wild-imagination @koi-chairowo @shizunxie @smirpsmirp @brookeisqweer @mariataliya @saoiirsee @atsuki-mitsuri @camzpetite @fandangotales @genshinfinatic @chimsblogg @nette-yang @vienettacream @notyuki @shiragi2 @atsukawolfcat @frzenhans @kkazuyass @tartarsaucechi1de @nunontherun @a-simp-with-daddyissues @thetruepair

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sapphicromanoffxo · 24 days

Text

Rhiannon ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ who will be her lover

｡°✩ pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

｡°✩ wc: 4.2k

｡°✩ warnings: fluff, smut, enchanted strap on, humping, possessive and aggressive sex, a teeny bit of angst

｡°✩ summary: Natasha's spontaneous research on witches aimed to enlighten Wanda about her lineage, prompting Wanda, in turn, to delve into her own discoveries.

A/N: This fic is born out of whim and I love it. A very special thanks to the co-author of this story, @mikaila-m. Your writing prowess is beyond amazing. ILY 🫶💜

╰┈➤ Masterlist

Natasha stood on the other end of the training room, observing the intense engagement between two figures, Steve and Wanda, locked in a mesmerising display of hand-to-hand combat. Their movements were a flawless blend of offense and defense, a choreographed symphony of skill and synchronization.

Wanda's improvement in her training was noticeable as she seamlessly incorporated her magic with her combat, creating a deadly combination that would be an advantage on the battlefield. Natasha marveled at how effortlessly Wanda manipulated the mystical energies around her, weaving them into her strikes with precision and finesse.

The air crackled with the remnants of Wanda's magic, wisps of energy trailing behind her every movement before dissipating into the open space. With each strike, a renewed surge of power emanated from her slender hands, a testament to her growing mastery over her abilities. She moved with a confidence and grace that spoke of countless hours spent honing her ability.

As Steve countered Wanda's attacks with practised ease, a look of admiration crossed his features. "Impressive, Maximoff," he remarked between exchanges, his voice carrying a hint of genuine respect. "Your control over your magic has grown since then. You seem to be in control and confident of your magic. Well done to you!"

A gentle smile graced Wanda's lips as she soaked in Steve's words of praise for her physical progress. "Thanks, Steve," she murmured shyly, her gratitude evident in her tone. "I wouldn't have done it without Natasha."

It was undeniable. From the moment Wanda arrived at the compound, Natasha took her under her wing, guiding her not only in combat training but also in navigating through her grief. Natasha's empathetic nature and gentle encouragement helped Wanda with her raging emotions and find solace within Natasha's presence.

Natasha's support extended beyond the training room, she was a constant source of reassurance, nudging Wanda towards embracing her new life, and her potential to become an Avenger.

With Natasha's steady guidance, Wanda found the strength to confront her fears and insecurities, eventually blossoming into a confident and capable member of the Avengers family.

As their relationship deepened, Natasha and Wanda's mentor and mentee dynamic blossomed into something more. Over the following months, they discovered themselves enveloped in a cozy cocoon of warmth and affection, occupying their thoughts and dreams alike.

Lost in thoughts, Natasha found herself in deep contemplation until Wanda's approach broke her reverie. Wanda, with a sheen of sweat on her forehead, her heart still racing from the intense training session, and her muscles aching from exertion, stood before her.

"Hey there," Natasha greeted, her fingers reaching out to gently brush away stray hairs from Wanda's face, tucking them behind her ears. "You've truly outdone yourself today. I'm proud of you."

Blushing at Natasha's compliment, Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks. She ducked her face, trying to conceal her reddening cheeks, and bit her lip to contain the smile threatening to bloom across her lips. "You saw all that, huh."

"Of course," Natasha affirmed, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I enjoy watching you train." With a gentle tug, she pulled Wanda closer and urged her to walk towards their shared room. "Your fighting style is impressive. I can't help but wonder where you learned it from."

"Oh. I learned all this from a super spy. You must know her." She gave a playful smile to Natasha. "She's this tall, redhead, with thick lips, and this cute nose that I like very much."

"Is that right? She must be pretty good then." Natasha played along since she will never tire of having playful conversations with her girlfriend.

Once they reached their room, while Wanda started shedding her work out clothes, Natasha seized the opportunity to share what she's been up to all morning while Wanda was training.

"I've done some research about your lineage." Natasha said as she slumped herself on their spacious king size bed.

"My lineage?" Wanda inquired, puzzled.

"Yes, your people. Witches," Natasha clarified while wiggling her fingers.

"And what have you discovered, pray tell?"

Wanda asked with genuine curiosity, unsure if Natasha was serious or just joking around.

"I've learned that many women accused of witchcraft were burned at the stake, which is barbaric," Natasha began. "What criteria did they use to determine if someone was truly a witch?"

"That's terrible," Wanda responded sympathetically. "Imagine, someone hated the way you behave then decided to gossip about you being a witch."

"I know, right? And some witches supposedly make potions out of herbs," Natasha said, giving Wanda a stinky eye. "You haven't concocted a love potion on me, have you? Made me fall for you?"

Wanda couldn't help but laugh at Natasha's absurdity and was surprised that the formidable assassin would say such a thing, but decided to play along. "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. Who's to say?"

Natasha simply hummed before delving further into her findings. "I've also discovered that some witches used a cauldron to cast spells and recited incantations from a book with weird languages to curse someone," she explained earnestly, her passion evident in her words. "Honestly, I wouldn't want to provoke or cross a witch from centuries ago. Who knows, they might turn me into a frog or ugly duckling."

"Natasha!" she chuckled at her girlfriend. "I'm not sure what to tell you," she paused to stifle her laughter. "I'm not that kind of witch. I don't cast spells, or read incantations, nobody ever taught me that kind of witchcraft."

A sudden thought struck Natasha. "Perhaps we should seek out a coven for you. You could learn from them and discover yourself in the world of witches."

Wanda shook her head at Natasha's enthusiasm for the witchcraft idea, finding it both amusing and endearing. "I'm going to hop in the shower," she said, "then you can tell me more about your discoveries, alright?"

As Wanda scrubbed the dried sweat from her body, her mind wandered back to Natasha's words about witches. She pondered whether there were others like her, freely roaming and living mundane lives without the constant fear of being burned alive. Should she seek them out, learn from them, and discover the potential and extent of her magical abilities? Yet, her powers derived from the mind stone, raising questions about her identity beyond just being a mystical being.

These thoughts swirled around her mind, leaving her feeling frustrated and alone. She had nobody to turn to for answers, no one in her circle who understood the intricacies of magic like she did. With a deep sigh, she finished showering so she could hang out with her girlfriend and learn more about her discoveries from the internet, even if they are only myths. It is still nice to know some things to help her learn about her kind.

As she emerged from the bathroom, a gentle melody enveloped her, coaxing a smile onto her lips. The strains emanated from a wireless speaker, while Natasha, with her eyes closed, bobbing her head lightly to the rhythm.

Intrigued by the unfamiliar tune, Wanda inquired, "What music is that? I don't recognize it." She couldn't deny the infectiousness of the beat.

"You haven't heard this before? It's 'Rhiannon' by Fleetwood Mac," Natasha replied, her voice tinged with amusement. "You should give them a listen. Stevie Nicks, the lead singer, is often associated with mystical imagery and is dubbed a 'witch' by many."

Wanda took note of the band and will make sure to listen to their songs. Maybe she should also do her own research about her history, just like what Natasha did, as it might give her some insights with her abilities as well.

Both women settled in for their afternoon cuddle, Natasha teasingly remarked, "You're not planning to join those witches who dance naked under the full moon, are you?" She playfully motioned for Wanda to join her in bed. "Although it's a bit eerie, I must admit, I wouldn't mind witnessing you perform under the moonlight."

Wanda giggled at Natasha's remark. "Oh, Nat, you're so silly ," she replied affectionately. "But don't worry, my love, you're the only one who gets to see me naked. No moonlit parades for me."

Natasha grinned mischievously in response. "Good to know, princess," she said, pulling Wanda closer.

****

For the past week, Wanda has been fully engrossed in delving into every detail about her other witches and their capabilities. Since she's not very knowledgeable about technology, she sought help from FRIDAY for her research. However, during this time, she's been experiencing strange occurrences. She keeps hearing voices in her head, echoing in her mind, unsure if they're just her own thoughts or something more.

Sometimes, she even feels a faint whisper calling her name. Interestingly, these voices seem to intensify whenever she's near Vision, leaving her puzzled and unable to comprehend their meaning. Maybe the mind stone was trying to send her a valuable message or a foreboding warning.

However, the witch made a conscious decision not to dwell too deeply on these strange voices and instead carried on with her usual daily activities. Yet, despite her efforts to push them aside, it appeared that the more she tried to ignore them, the more persistently they haunted her. It was as if they were incessantly urging her to acknowledge them, to allow them entry into her conscious mind, and perhaps even to seize control of her thoughts. Each day, their presence seemed to grow stronger, their whispers becoming more insistent, leaving her increasingly unsettled and uncertain about how to confront this mysterious intrusion into her psyche.

It was during one particular night, where the lunar orb shines at its fullness, Wanda finds herself submerged in the depths of her dreams. It's not the typical terror-inducing nightmare, with frantic grasps at bed linens or anguished cries echoing into the void. Rather than the frantic thrashings and wails of a nightmare, she drifts through a surreal landscape where her own magic holds sway. Crimson tendrils of mystical energy swirl around her, painting the air with an otherworldly hue. Yet amidst this ethereal display, there's an unsettling intensity to the voices that resonate within her mind, louder, clearer, and more insistent than ever before.

Take her.

Mark her.

Claim her.

Make her mine.

Wanda surveyed the seemingly boundless space before her, she couldn't shake the oppressive darkness that hangs in the air. Her gaze fell upon a peculiar sight, a circle of candles meticulously arranged on the floor, their flickering flames casting eerie shadows. At the center of this arrangement lay a star, its lines seemingly etched into the ground with an unsettling crimson hue that resembled dried blood.

Intrigued yet apprehensive, Wanda couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing her towards the pentagon nestled within the star's core. A faint, almost imperceptible shadow hovered above it, its presence both mesmerizing and foreboding. Driven by an inexplicable instinct, Wanda found herself stepping closer, her heart pounding in her chest with each deliberate movement.

As she knelt within the circle, a sense of unease washed over her, intensifying with each passing moment. Suddenly, as if propelled by unseen forces, her clothing was violently ripped from her body, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Panic surged through her veins, her mind reeling with fear and confusion.

A sudden shift in the atmosphere jolted Natasha from her slumber. Startled, she instinctively reached out for the familiar figure beside her, only to find the space empty. Confusion knit her brow as she scanned the room bathed in an eerie yellow-to-red aura. Sitting up, she surveyed her surroundings, her gaze drawn to a haunting sight: Wanda, huddled on the floor, naked and trembling.

"Wanda!" Natasha's voice rang out, thick with fear and urgency, as she rushed to her side. "What's happening? Are you alright?" She knelt on the floor while searching for any injuries on Wanda's body

Wanda remained unresponsive, her long hair cascading over her chest as she sat in a trance-like state. Her eyes, aglow with a crimson hue and filled with tears, met Natasha's with an unsettling intensity.

"Natasha," Wanda's voice, though still recognizable, carried a different tone, thick with emotion and tinged with an accent more pronounced than usual. "I... I don't know what's happening to me."

The redhead's eyes widened as she took in the surreal scene before them – both she and Wanda ensnared within a large ring of flickering candles, their warm glow casting eerie shadows against the walls. At the heart of the circle, a pentagram etched into the floor seemed to pulse with a mystic energy that sent shivers down Natasha's spine.

Suppressing a surge of alarm, Natasha approached Wanda cautiously, her voice a gentle murmur.

"Sweetheart," she whispered, her tone tender yet laced with apprehension, not wishing to startle Wanda further. "Did you... do this?"

"Yes," Wanda's voice changed and gone was the initial shock in them. "I need you, Natasha."

There was a primal hunger in Wanda's eyes as she lunged at Natasha, her hands, chilled by the cold, cupped Natasha's face, and embraced her with a fervent and intense kiss. It was as though they both sensed the urgency of the moment, wanting to etch this memory into eternity, as if it could be their final time together.

Instinctively, Natasha responded to the kiss with a magnitude that matched Wanda's, her arms enveloping Wanda's waist with a fervent need, their bodies drawn and intertwined perfectly together. Every touch ignited a raging desire between them, elevating their connection to an electrifying sensation. Natasha held onto Wanda tightly, savoring the moment, unwilling to let it slip away.

A deep whimper escaped Wanda's throat from the passionate kiss, breaking away for a second to catch her breath. She can feel her skin heating up, slowly burning her senses but she wanted more. "Natalia," she uttered like a prayer and gently pushed the other woman and urged her to lay down on the floor.

With the use of her magic, Wanda removed Natasha's clothing without warning, wanting to have more skin to skin contact. Once Wanda positioned herself on top, Natasha shivered when she felt how wet Wanda was the moment her core made contact with her crotch. "Fuck, Wands. You're so wet already."

"I want you so bad, Natalia," Wanda breathed heavily as she continued kissing Natasha roughly. Her hands freely roaming on the redhead's exposed skin, groping her breasts, while simultaneously leaving a trail of hickeys on Natasha's chest. "I own you." Her mouth descended on each perky nipple, nipping, biting, and giving them the much needed attention then soothed them with her warm tongue after being roughly handled.

The spy closed her eyes, mouth slightly agape, upon hearing Wanda's possessive statement. She was rendered speechless with the level of power Wanda was proclaiming. Typically the one in control of their sex lives, she found herself surprised yet intrigued by Wanda's boldness, leaving her both aroused and alarmed at Wanda's sudden forwardness and aggression. In a feeble attempt to ground herself, she put her hands on each side of the witch's waist.

This only encouraged Wanda to take matters in her own hands as she started languidly rutting her lower half against the redhead's hips, effectively asserting her control on the pace. She then ripped her mouth and teeth from Natasha's abused nipples to grab her chin tightly, bringing their mouths inches apart. “Tell me who you belong to.” Her heavily accented voice resonated around them and into Natasha's mind.

Their breaths mingled as the redhead answered weakly, “You Wanda, no one else.” The witch grabbed her face even harder, her crescent nails digging into the skin, bringing them closer as their noses brushed together.

“Say it again.” Wanda prompted while grinding her hips harder, smearing her wetness on Natasha's warm skin.

A deep sound came out of the spy's throat, something between a growl and a whine while she tried to focus on forming a correct sentence rather than let herself be consumed by Wanda's presence and touch. “I'm yours Wanda, only yours.”

A raw hum of appreciation escaped the witch's lips as she attached them again to Natasha's neck, leaving purple marks on her smooth skin and never stopping her lower movements.

When Wanda leaned slightly back to admire her work, racking her eyes over the redhead's slightly glistening body. She grinned and performed a careless flick of her wrist, encasing their lower bodies in scarlet tendrils and conjured to reveal a blood-red cock securely harnessed to Natasha's hips.

The spy let out a gasp of surprise at the discovery which was muffled by Wanda's lips kissing her again fervently. Natasha tightened her hold on the witch’s hips which had stilled while she was gifted with her new acquisition.

The tight grip spurted Wanda to move again, lowering herself to rest her wet center on Natasha's thick shaft before starting a slow back and forth movement against it. As her folds gilded lazily up and down, Natasha saw stars appear behind her eyes as she was able to feel everything. She could sense the warm and wet feeling of Wanda's core sliding along her silicone dick.

She stuttered while trying stay conscious, “Ah–Fuck, детка! What did you do?” She shocked back a needy whimper as Wanda gave a harder thrust on the tip.

“Do you like it? I made it just for you, baby.” The witch answered in short breaths, concentrated on keeping her movements slow and not giving in to the urge to forcefully rut against Natasha.

“Oh, yes it feels amazing. Keep going.” The redhead struggled to keep her gaze focused on the ethereal sight displayed above her, her girlfriend wearing a pretty pink flush on her cheeks while her eyebrows were slightly frowned in pleasure.

Natasha used the leverage she had with her hands on Wanda's hips to buck her own up, matching the pace of their humping and increasing the pressure between them, changing the angle a little.

Wanda moaned lewdly when the base of the strap brushed her clit, making her skin burn and tingle from the added stimulation. She placed one hand on the spy's ribs and the other on her shoulder to steady herself, her nails digging into soft flesh.

Mere moments later, Wanda sensed she was already close so she stopped her movements. She didn't plan for them to finish so soon, not after waiting for so long to experience something like this. She reluctantly lifted her body up to position herself above the flushed and panting spy, putting all her weight on her arms and using the strong body under her for balance.

The witch looked down and bit her bottom lip as she lowered her hips to situate her dripping entrance above the tip of Natasha's cock. Once the end of the shaft was snuggled against her core, she lifted her head to stare directly into the redhead's tightly closed eyes, “Look at me while I fuck myself with your cock, Natalia.” Wanda demanded, half-growled in an effort to contain her need to just slam down and get herself off as rapidly as she could manage.

The redhead used all the discipline she possessed to reopen her eyes and bore them into Wanda's green ones. The exact moment their gaze met, the witch started sinking down slowly, forcing the strap to enter her inch by inch. A long moan ripped itself from Natasha's throat as she felt all the nerves of her body setting alight at the feeling of the hot embrace of Wanda's walls choking her enchanted strap.

Natasha buried her nails into the other woman's waist when Wanda's pussy swallowed the last of her shaft, bringing their hips flesh to flesh. The warm, wet and tight feeling of the witch's insides surrounding her whole cock was already too much and she couldn't prevent herself from closing her eyes in concentration to not cum right away.

“You feel so good inside of me, baby.” Wanda whispered, eyeing her girlfriend under her thick lashes, reveled in her evident struggle and pleasure. She stayed still for a moment to give herself a bit of time to adjust to the huge dick stretching her walls before starting to gyrate her hips slightly to test the waters.

Natasha's hips gave a jerky spasm in response as she felt herself getting squeezed from the base to the tip with the slight movement of the woman on top of her.

No longer able to contain herself, Wanda lifted herself up again all the way until only the tip of the cock remained inside of her before sinking down again. Natasha saw dark spots in her vision when the warm heat gripped her dick in a sucking motion as she travelled up. She moaned a series of you're mine you're you're mine while bouncing up in down on Natasha's dick.

As Wanda continued riding her, their chorus of moans and squelching wet sounds were the only noises surrounding them as their pleasure kept increasing and increasing as well as the pace of their thrusts.

“Wanda— I'm close, fuck!” Natasha panted through gritted teeth as her body was tensing more and more upon her impending release. She started giving short, hard lunges upward to drive her strap even deeper into Wanda's pussy.

“Mmmh, me too, come with me детка.” The witch almost whined, her eyes glowing even more darker, and her thrusts becoming messier and sloppier as she edged towards her own release.

Finally the coil in Natasha's stomach. enfolded as she cummed. She sensed her warm juices leaving the tip of her strap as she felt the primal urge to pump her dick harder and deeper into Wanda as she came. As she did so, she felt the witch's walls clenching sporadically around her, signalling she had triggered her own orgasm. The delicious squeezes prolonged Natasha's release until she stilled and flopped back, completely spent and head lulling backwards.

At the same time, Wanda came with a long moan when Natasha's juices warmed the inside of her womb. As she descended from her high, Wanda kept lazily riding Natasha in slow and short motions until she became too sensitive and finally unsheathed herself from the strap with a lewd and wet sound.

After regaining her breath, Wanda suddenly sat upright and found herself gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to fill in her empty lungs. Then, a peculiar sensation washed over her—an intense detachment as though her very essence was being ripped apart from within, as if an invisible pair of hands were wrenching a fragment of her soul which was being torn away by an inexplicable force beyond comprehension.

An overwhelming tide of panic gripped her, fueled by the relentless force pulling at her. With each passing moment, she felt her very consciousness slipping away, aggressively and mercilessly tearing it from her body. Amidst it all, her eyes blazed with a furious crimson, reflecting the turmoil within and tendrils of her magic hung in the air.

"Wanda," Natasha's voice was fraught with urgency, "Baby! What's happening? Wanda!" she repeatedly called out her name, trying desperately to break through Wanda's trance and tether her back to the present moment. Finally, her persistent pleas got through Wanda's lucid state, her body slumped over hers, body pressing down like a dead weight.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Natasha said softly, gently cupping Wanda's face in her hands and drawing her closer. "Are you alright?"

Gasping for air, Wanda struggled to focus her gaze on Natasha, her heart racing with fear and confusion. "Natasha?" Her voice rasped with agitation. "What... what just happened?" Her mind reeled, wrestling with the disorienting aftermath of whatever had transpired.

"Good Lord, Wanda!" Natasha exclaimed, her relief palpable yet tinged with lingering anxiety. "You scared the life out of me. One moment you seemed fine, and then suddenly you were trembling, your magic flowing out all over the room." She decided to leave out the part where Wanda was clutching onto her shoulders, as if the witch was scared for her to slip away from her fingers.

Wanda's voice wavered with distress as she tried to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. "I feel pain and at the same time feel empty," she confessed, her brow furrowed with confusion. "I can feel it within my heart but I don't know where it's coming."

Natasha enveloped the weeping witch in her arms offering a sense of security and solace. "Just let it all out, Wanda," she whispered soothingly. "I'm right here, baby."

"I'm so scared, Nat," Wanda hiccuped between sobs, her voice trembling with vulnerability. "It felt like my soul was ripped from my body. I don't ever want to experience that again."

"You're safe with, Wanda," Natasha murmured, her tone laced with unwavering determination. "I promise you, I won't let anything harm you. Whatever it takes, I'll protect you." Her words were a steadfast vow, a pledge of her love and devotion for Wanda.

In the vast emptiness of space, her anguished cries and screams echoed chaoticly through the stretches of the universe once the projection severed. A real testament to her desperation as she struggled to cling to the faint hope of an alternate reality where she could reclaim the life she once knew, knowing all too well it could never be hers again.

She finds herself in a vulnerable position, with nothing remaining but the ethereal burden of her own chaos magic intertwined with the relentless ache of agony, a haunting symphony echoing through the chambers of her soul.

Once again, thank you very much for sharing your great mind with me. @mikaila-m 💜🫶

#wandanat #wandanat fanfiction #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel #scarlet witch #black widow #wlw #Spotify

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augustinewrites · 1 year

Text

diluc knows that today will be…interesting when kaeya strolls through the front doors of dawn winery, friday night’s surveillance reports in his hand.

unfortunately, this happens as you’re on your way out.

“i love you. be nice to your brother,” you remind him, which diluc chooses to answer with a noncommittal grunt, not making any promises as you press a kiss to his temple. you move onto your son, dropping a kiss atop his mess of red hair. “bye, baby, have fun with your dad!”

your son hums happily in response, legs swinging as he picks through the last bits of his breakfast. you shout a quick goodbye to the staff before hurrying out the door, taking with you about ninety-five percent of diluc’s impulse control when it comes to the cavalry captain.

“diluc,” his brother greets with a nod.

“kaeya,” he returns, taking a longer than usual sip of coffee.

“master kaeya!” adelinde exclaims, wrapping him in a hug, effortlessly dissolving the tension in the room. “it’s so nice to see you here. won’t you join us for breakfast?”

“not today, adelinde,” he smiles, patting her hand. “i’m just here to drop something off.” he turns to diluc, handing him the report. “there’s been a bit more abyss order activity than usual in windrise.”

“noted. thank you.”

his brother isn’t finished though, nudging his nephew slightly as he adds, “i’m sure it’s nothing that the darknight hero can’t handle for us, right?”

diluc rolls his eyes, about to offer a sharp retort when his son says,

“i saw mommy kissing the darknight hero last night.”

diluc chokes on his coffee. kaeya’s brows raise in surprise. adelinde suddenly chooses to make herself scarce. this was clearly not what they’d expected at all, and his five year old simply continues to munch happily on his pancakes.

kaeya recovers first, pulling out a chair and grinning like a cat that caught the canary. “you know, i think i will stay for breakfast.”

diluc ignores him, turning to his son and asking, very carefully, “how do you know it was the darknight hero kissing mom?”

“because he was still wearing his mask,” the kid tells him as if it’s obvious, holding up the stuffed animal he refuses to part with. “it’s an owl, like artemis! and i saw him in the hall!”

he should be ashamed, really, because despite all the battlefield awareness he’s prided himself on, he failed to spot a five year old in his periphery.

because, yes, the darknight hero had been kissing you last night.

diluc had come home a little earlier than usual, heart racing and blood pumping following the high of a successful battle. he hadn’t even bothered to take his boots off upon his return, uncaring of the lecture he’d receive from adelinde as he crowded you against the bedroom door, the two of you shushing each other between insistent kisses.

he hadn’t taken his mask off until after the two of you stumbled into the bedroom.

though he’s slowly starting to wrap his head around the whole thing, but he’s still unsure as to how he should proceed without you here. this is definitely sooner than you’d both planned on him knowing, so maybe if he just doesn’t answer–

“does mommy love the darknight hero?”

kaeya turns away, looking like he’s about to pop a lung with how hard he’s holding back his laughter.

his son’s got his cheek propped up on his little fist, wearing a look that’s all too serious for a five year old. “because miss adelinde says that people who kiss on the mouth are in love.”

“you know,” kaeya interrupts. “some people say that your dad actually looks a lot like the darknight hero.”

diluc cuts a glare across the table as his son stares at him for a very long minute.

“dad’s not the darknight hero! he’s too old!”

oh he’s so, so, screwed.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x y/n #genshin impact fluff

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

PART THREE OF THE BREAK IN PLEASE 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🫠

Pairing: König x f!reader

A/N: Thank you for being patient! I liked writing this one a lot.

The Intruder part ii (but I love that you guys call it part 3 of the break in!!!)

I told you what I was, what I was capable of. His eerie voice replayed in your head.

It sent chills down your spine. It was almost a week later that you sat in your apartment contemplating what you had got yourself into.

There was no doubt in your mind König could’ve killed that man easily but in your mind you knew that wasn’t him that night.

You thought about texting him but every time you reached for the phone, you pictured the man that let you go that night and who was hungry to kill another man in front of you.

Your heart was set on letting him battle whatever struggle he had by himself. You could only hope he would attempt to try to come back.

König laid awake at night thinking of the events that unraveled just a few hours ago. He had been set on killing the man that trespassed in his home with you in it. He was blocked. He couldn’t bring himself to think of any rational decision but to end the man’s life. He kept thinking about how you had heard the intruder before he did. Was he losing his touch?

Death came easy to him, his job which was once just the military, became Austrian special forces, then became KorTac, trained + hired mercenaries. His reality of work had meshed with his real life, again.

He sighed. He walked around his house. For some strange reason, his footsteps brought him to this door.

Inside his home, was an office that was tucked away on the other side of the house. This office was closed and off-limits. He really didn’t even think you knew about this room.

A key was tucked away above the door frame.

He reached up and unlocked the door.

Inside the room was a bookshelf tucked into the right side wall. A large desk with a computer monitor placed neatly on top of it. The desk inside was dusty, König had not been inside this room for a while now.

This office was his therapy room.

Across the bookshelf lay notebooks, workbooks, and different textbooks on self-help, conversation books, behavioral therapy books, relationship books, and books that he never even got to read because he thought for a while he was finally cured from whatever voice was living inside his head.

He approached the binder at the end of the shelf. This binder was the year he met you. He stopped talking to his therapist this year thinking he was cured.

He stayed up and opened the notebook reading his progress.

There was a checklist of what he did this year.

-being able to greet someone good morning. (complete)

-being able to go on a walk around his neighborhood (complete)

-maintain eye contact with a stranger (complete)

- Shop at the grocery store during the day (failed)

- give the cute girl the grocery store his number (complete)

He stayed up until 7 in the morning.

He knew this voice inside his head was good at using those thoughts when he was outside on the battlefield, but when did he lose control of it when he was safe at home?

He turned on the monitor and scheduled an appointment with Dr. Amelie.

The start of the second week had you hanging on by a thread. There was a dead end. No communication. You had tried to occupy yourself with work but ended up calling out sick. What usually makes you feel better? König. That wasn’t an option right now.

You busied yourself cleaning the apartment when your phone screen lit up. Sure enough, a message from him.

“Are you home?”

You bit your lip and gave in.

“Yes.”

Another message —

“I’m coming up.”

You felt nervous. You weren’t sure what or where you guys would stand after this. After all, he came back to you as someone else.

A gentle knock at the door, you ran over and opened it. Leaning against the door, König had worn the same mask he wore at night. He was dressed in a dark green flannel, black sweats, and running shoes.

You could smell the cologne on his body.

“Täubchen…” (dove) he looked at you, softly spoke your nickname.

Your heart swooned at the pet name he had used for you. You missed him. His eyes looked red, worn out, and gloomy.

You made space for him and walked over to the couch. You sat with both knees tucked under you at one end of the couch. König took the hint and sat on the other end of the couch.

He inhaled—

“I suppose I should start. I am the reason we are on a break.” He had started rubbing his thighs.

A break?

“I don’t think I came back the same after my last mission, I’m sorry for scaring you.” He exhaled.

“I think I brought a little bit of the mission back to our home and I shouldn’t have.”

He looked up at you, his fingers were fidgeting.

“While on this mission, someone took me by surprise and pulled my hood off.”

Your stomach dropped. Comfort and security had been stripped from him. You knew how much the mask meant to him. You yourself hadn’t asked to see his face until he was ready.

You bit your lip, kept looking at him, unsure of what to say next.

“You don’t have to forgive me, but you should know I would never hurt you, I would never let anyone else even attempt to hurt you, and I think that’s why I turned so protective.”

“I know,” you said simply.

He stared up at you, bringing his hand close to you but flinching away, holding it into a fist.

“I wanted to tell you that I am working on it, and I promise you I am.”

“You are? How?”

“I just want you to know I am. I am seeing an old friend.”

You scoot closer to him and hold his hand.

“I know you would never hurt me. I’m glad you’re seeking help from whoever it is.”

Part of you seemed concerned but you trusted him. The same way you trusted him and put patience in him from the first date.

“Täubchen… I’m sorry, I can’t help what I am, but I can promise you to not bring that version of me when I am home.”

You smiled. It was a start.

He grabbed you, sat you on his lap, nuzzled his face in your neck.

“Can we stop being on a break now? I can’t sleep without you.”

#könig #könig x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n #könig mw2 #konig call of duty #call of duty #cod könig #könig cod #ask

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dailyadventureprompts · 9 months

Text

Homebrew Mechanic: Bumpercar Combat

I'm going to keep most of my reasoning behind developing this system below the cut but I think we can all agree that D&D's combat can be painfully static. I love fight scenes but after going down a combined stage combat/ videogame boss design rabbit hole I've realized that one of the primary elements is missing from D&D's combat system, namely: Movement

From a mechanical perspective, D&D combat needs movement to break up the monotony of non-spellcater characters throwing punches at eachother until one of them drops, to introduce increased risk and randomness without damage-spike abilities.

From a narrative perspective, D&D combat needs movement to introduce tension and to help put character into day to day fighting beyond just flavor text. Likewise, fights that give different opportunities for movement will feel different from one another, making them stand out in the party's mind.

So without further ado I present my fun new system, which will have your party and their enemies bouncing around the battlefield like a demolition derby:

Press the attack: If you attack a creature and your initial attack roll is higher than their constitution score, you can force them to shift 5 ft into any of the tree squares opposite from your position. You then move to occupy the space they did.

Back to a Wall: Walls and other substantial barriers grant attackers the benefits of flanking as if they were a threatening creature.

Give Ground: If you are attacked in melee and the initial roll is lower than your dexterity score you may shift into any adjacent square, forcing the opponent to move into the space you previously occupied. If you are attacked at a range, you may still shift, but the attacker loses any cover bonuses they might have till the start of their next turn rather than moving.

Tripping Hazard: If you force an opponent into a square that could be considered rough terrain ( such as if it was occupied by a chair, or down a slippery slope) the target drops prone.

First things first I want to say that this system is largely inspired by the dynamic combat movement rules by raventear productions, which I found over on reddit. It's a great system but the more I thought about it the more I realized that introducing extra rolls into combat was adding extra bloat to combat, and so I needed to retool the system to ensure that the party weren't having to roll any more dice than they normally would. My goal with homebrew is always to add more options, not bloat.

Also, go check out@jillbearup over on youtube, her series breaking down cinematic fights was one of the main drivers behind wanting to find a homebrew system like this in the first place.

Finally, long hours spent watching @ohnoitstbskyen 's in depth bloodborne playthough got me thinking about the design of fights, and the right combination of enemies and environment can truly elevate the player(s) experience. I'm also working on my own bloodborne game which gave me a reason to finalize this system.

Now lets get on to why I wanted to build this system in the first place: D&D combat is at risk of being painfully slow and boring, as it's aged the depths to which it can be slow and/or boring have only increased. While part of that is up to the skill of players at the table, I largely chalk it up to the fact that the base system of combat isn't much changed from the days of old tabletop wargaming....characters and monsters control like army units, clashing up against one another till one side drops or some spellcaster drops an AoE ( artillery). That rigidity is fine when one person is controling a whole army of units, but I think every melee character has been in a position where they're slugging away with the same old attack while the wizards get to do cool shit.

The system sort of worked back In the early days when characters and monsters could only take a couple of hits before dropping, but as the editions progressed and everything got more complex what might have first been a quick life or death clash turned into a slugfest. Attacks of opportunity and rigid flanking rules specifically encouraged this slowdown, and 4th edition, the only attempt outside of the battemaster to really play with positioning crashed and burned mainly due to WotC's incompetence.

So how do I use this?

If you're having trouble thinking of why this system might be fun to implement, here's a few ideas:

It makes groupfights more dangerous, encouraging tactical thinking. Getting advantage reliably is the deciding factor in most d&d combats, with the tide turning in favour of whichever side has the most bodies. If combatants are shifting around with every missed hit then that advantage is more up for grabs

It puts increased focus on hazards and terrain features. Ledges, pits, pillars, walls, furniture, dungeon-clutter. Make no mistake that if you use this system and then design your combat arenas with some kind of terrain feature, it's GOING to be used. Where previously players and enemies alike had to chose between engaging with the arena for a potential benefit or doing raw damage reliably, here they'll be able to do both.

It gives non burst-damage melee characters a new way to play. Rolling a barbarian or fighter is supposed to come with a scene of empowerment which can be undercut one folks realize their super-strong orc berserker is being outclassed for damage by the shifty guy with the knife. Telling that player "Yeah, that person gets to roll more dice, but you get to bounce badguys off the walls like pinballs" is more than a consolation, it's what they signed up to do in the first place.

It adds drama to the fight. There's only so many ways a dm can describe enemies taking non-lethal sword hits that only take up a portion of their hp, and they're liable to run out of those long before the campaign is through. Part of what sells the importance of those hits and keeps players engaged between the first and the last is the feeling that they've had SOME kind of effect. Moving folks around is a middle ground between doing nothing and dropping a foe, changing the battlefield in a myriad of small ways that can build up to something meaningful.

Art

#homebrew mechanic #d&d mechanics #combat #bumpercar combat #bad moon campaign #d&d

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florence-end · 9 months

Text

Stitch up

Azriel x reader

Request: Could you please write a story where Azriel and the reader are on a mission, and the reader is injured and she needs stitches, and Azriel is the one who has to do it.

Warnings: vague description of injury, sad Az, hurt/comfort

“Sweetheart, please. You need to sit still so I can do this right.”

“Az, it’s not necessary. The bleeding has stopped and it’ll close up by itself. There are people out there that need proper healing, I need to get back out there.” You continued to evade Azriel’s flittering hands as he tried to hold your face still to assess the wound on your cheek. His large frame blocked the doorway to your tent, stopping you from slipping past and back out into the war camp.

“It is fucking necessary. Sit down now,” he was getting frustrated now but so were you. You stared each other down, neither bothering to hide your irritation from the other through the bond.

“You might give orders on that battlefield, Azriel, but you will not tell me what to do when it comes to healing my patients. Get out of my way,” you demanded, arms crossed over your chest. The stinging of the laceration on your cheek was long forgotten, and the Hybern General that had inflicted it was long dead thanks to your mate.

Azriel hesitated before stepping to the side, clearing your path to the door. But as you reached it, he spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please just let me stitch you up, I’ll be quick.”

You turned to look at him, noting that the anger on his face had quickly melted to guilt and pleading. You glanced out of the tent to assess how much you were needed at the healers’ stations, and realised your colleagues had it mostly under control.

Without speaking, you walked back to your mate and sat down in one of the chairs he had pulled over from the strategy table.

He gave you a small smile, and his shadows brushed over your arms and hands in gratitude as he readied the suture kit. He began his task in silence.

“Why is this so important to you? You knew I would have been fine letting it heal on its own,” you asked gently, understanding there was an issue Azriel hadn’t voiced yet.

“I can’t let you scar,” he murmured quietly, not meeting your eye as he focused on getting his stitches perfect.

“The thought of a small scar on my face is really that repulsive?” you replied, trying to keep your hurt feelings from projecting down the bond.

Azriel’s head snapped up.

“No! Gods no, it’s not that. You would be perfect in my eyes no matter what, a scar couldn’t change that.”

“Then what’s the problem?” you urged again.

“I have so many scars. Probably hundreds by now. And they are all permanent reminders of times I was too weak to protect myself. I wasn’t fast enough or clever enough in a fight, or I wasn’t strong enough to deter my brothers from tormenting me. I can’t stand the thought of my failure to protect you today becoming a permanent mark on your skin,” he took a deep breath as he finished his speech and lowered his hands as they had begun shaking.

You took the needle from him and placed it on the table next to you before cupping his face in your hands. After a beat of silence, his eyes met yours.

“Azriel, you have never once failed to protect me. This wound is proof of that. A Hybern General marked me for death while I was too busy to defend myself, and yet I’ve walked away with barely a scratch. And your own scars are proof of nothing but your bravery and honour in everything you do,” you spoke with certainty, and sealed your declaration with a kiss to his chapped lips.

Never one for many words, Azriel simply nodded but his eyes were a fraction lighter than they had been before and the love he sent flooding through the bond was enough of a response for you.

Leaning forward to press his own kiss to your forehead, he picked up the needle and continued his task.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A short but sweet one hopefully! Thank you for the request🫶

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you

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salty-croissants · 6 months

Text

Bullfrog and Rayman/Ramon x g/n reader : taking a bullet for them

I’ve had this little idea for a while now , so I decided to finally sit and write it down !

You see , while I’m the biggest fan of anything regarding fluff I do enjoy a bit of angst sometimes too , so I ended up getting a rush of inspiration imagining the reader protecting the boys with them getting all worried afterwards :,I

I’ll definitely start working on the requests I received as soon as I can by the way , I just like to post some personal works whenever I get inspired … also because I literally can’t stop it when that happens :,)

Anyway , hope this turned out okay !

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ;

presence of blood , bullet wounds , occasional swearing and general angst with following fluff

Bullfrog 💚

As soon as he turns around and sees you drop on your knees , clutching the bleeding wound with a hiss of pain , Bullfrog immediately drops everything he’s doing and rushes towards you , ignoring the bullets flying in his direction :

he has to get you out of there … he has to do it fast … nothing else matters …

His small but strong arms pick you and he carries you away from the raging battlefield , the sensation of your blood dripping on his hands filling him with fear …

No matter what the Warden will have to say about this setback , the safety of his beloved is top priority .

When he finally puts you down after reaching a safe spot , Bullfrog can feel the crushing weight of his guilt taking over his every thought , enough to almost make him dizzy …

He knows full well that that bullet was meant for him .

He should’ve noticed it sooner … why didn’t he notice it sooner ?

Maybe then you wouldn’t have jumped forward to shield him …

This … this was all his fault .

The sound of you coughing out blood is what makes Bullfrog snap back to reality .

< B … Bullfrog … ? >

< Yes y/n , I’m here , I’m right here mon amour , you’re going to be okay , I promise … you just have to stay awake . >

His voice sounds so soothing and sweet ( tough a bit raspy after his crazy escape ) , and while he begins to take off your coat to get a better look at the wound you can’t help but smile a little in front of his sheer devotion to you …

His movements are gentle but quick , and before you can even process what’s happening Bullfrog has already patched you up to prevent you from losing any more blood …

It’s now that the situation is under control that he brings it up .

< You really shouldn’t have done that , y/n . If the bullet hit you someplace else with some more precision you could’ve died . >

You look down at the floor of the alleyway you’re both currently hiding in , feeling his worried eyes on you .

< I … I’m sorry . I didn’t really think it through …

I panicked : you were in danger and I didn’t want you to get hurt , I just … didn’t know what else to do … >

Bullfrog’s gaze softens , and before you know it you feel his arms around you , holding you carefully to avoid hurting you more …

< I know , mon cher … you’re always looking out for me , and I love you so much for that reason alone , but please don’t ever do something like that ever again :

je … je ne peux pas te perdre . >

You gladly lean into his loving embrace , hugging him back as the pain brought by the wound in your waist disappears momentarily :

you were just thankful to have Bullfrog by your side , and thankful for his endless love and care for you .

Rayman 🧡

It takes some time for Rayman to realize that an unidentified man just tried to shoot him while the two of you were walking back home after that night’s date , and it’s when he hears your sharp breaths and sees your blood staining his shoes that he fully takes in what happened …

< Y/N !!! >

He rushes towards you , panic taking over him as his shaky hands get a hold of you :

you’re hurt … you’re hurt really bad , and it’s all because you protected him .

< Oh - oh g-god - ohmygod —

I can’t … I gotta - H-HELP !!! >

It doesn’t take long for someone to notice what is going on , and before you know it you can hear the deafening noise coming from the sirens of the ambulance and the many police cars all around the street , as well as a familiar voice …

< Are they going to be okay ?? W-will they live ???

Please , they have to live … they have to … >

Unfortunately you can’t bring yourself to listen further : soon the loss of blood makes you pass out , your blurry vision slowly fading to black as the last thing you feel is someone picking you up from the ground .

Rayman really isn’t handling what happened very well , and the days following the incident are absolutely awful for him …

He ends up drinking a lot more , unable to eat and let alone sleep , and whenever he receives the inevitable calls from the Board of Directors “inviting” him to pull himself together for his show’s sake , he completely loses it …

< Don’t you understand ?? My . Partner . Got . FUCKING SHOT !!!

I might never s-see them again , and you want me to “keep it together” ?!? >

Whenever he stays up at night , waiting for any sorts of news about your condition from the hospital , Rayman can do nothing but silently pray that you’re going to be fine … that he will be able to hold you and kiss you again , and that it’s not all lost …

… but deep down he really isn’t sure if that’s what’s going to happen , and that terrifies him more than anything .

Then finally , one morning he receives the awaited news :

you’re alive , you’re feeling a lot better and , most importantly , you’re actually on your way to his lounge ( the last part being a little something you planned to surprise him ) .

Rayman is overjoyed , and when he hears a knock on the door and sees your beautiful smile waiting for him behind it he can’t contain himself anymore …

< Oh y/n … y/n my love … I-I’m so glad you’re okay , I missed you so much ! >

He hugs you tightly , sobbing next to your ear , and inevitably you end up crying too …

< I’m here Ray … I’m right here , I’m never leaving you again , I promise … >

You let out a sigh when Rayman’s lips meet yours , locking them in a loving , passionate kiss …

The two of you really needed it , after everything that’s happened .

Ramon 🖤

Oh boy is he enraged …

After a moment of silent shock , he glares at that one member of the Board of Directors security that had the guts to harm his darling …

< You … PIECE OF SHIT !!! >

Without any regards at all for his safety he rushes towards the man , shooting at him multiple times … even after his dead body has long since hit the floor .

It takes him a while to calm down , but after taking a few deep , shaky breath , Ramon finally rushes towards you , using his coat to stop the bullet wound from bleeding .

< Hiss - >

< I know it hurts … but you’re gonna be okay love , just … just bear with me , okay … ? I got you … >

You nod in response , a little smile appearing on your face as he leans down to kiss your forehead .

After a few minutes , you start to feel less dizzy than before , and similarly to Bullfrog it’s only then that Ramon confronts you about what happened .

< Now … we really gotta talk about this , y/n , cause I am not about to lose the only person that gives me hope in this hell because they decide to shield me from a bullet without any regard for themselves and their safety . >

< I … *cough* … I had to though , it would’ve hit y - >

You can feel Ramon’s hands on your shoulders , and when you look up at him you can see a very serious expression on his face …

< y/n . I mean it .

I need you to look at me and promise to never take a bullet for me again .

I … I wouldn’t be able to go on if you were gone … do you understand … ? >

Your quietly listen to him , your eyes never leaving his , and when you lean forward to give him a little kiss on the nose you hear him sigh softly …

< I won’t … I promise .

I love you , Ram … sorry for making you worry . >

Ramon smiles in response , holding you closer to him while the sun sets behind the window , illuminating the two of you and the corpses of the Board of Directors around the room …

< I love you too , y/n … very , very much . >

#captain laserhawk #x reader #rayman x reader #captain lazerhawk rayman #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #bullfrog x reader #gender neutral reader

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in1-nutshell · 1 month

Note

And hey continuation of The last ask of old predacon buddy how would the decepticons react to Old Predacon buddy revert back into their younger form like out on the battlefield most of them would most likely be terrified (more specifically Megatron because he had to fight old Predacon buddy back then a long time ago)

Megatron is not going to have a fun time when he finds out.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon turns to their younger self fights the Con's

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

The Autobot had been ambushed by the Decepticon’s.

They were being swarmed from every angle.

Buddy was becoming more and more restless hearing the sounds of battle through the console as Ratchet turned on the groundbrigde and went in to help.

“Ratchet let me help! We both know I can fight!”--Buddy

“This isn’t a game, Buddy. We can’t have Megatron know that you’re here like this.”--Ratchet

“And what about the others?”--Buddy

“If something does happen then come. But only as a last resort, do you understand?”--Ratchet

“…Fine.”--Buddy

The kids did their best to keep the Predacon calm while they kept on swishing their tail around in irritating fashion.

They were doing a good job keeping things under control despite everything.

“Don’t worry Buddy. They’ll be back before you know it!”--Raf

“Such faith you have Rafael. And such patience.”—Buddy

“It doesn’t look too good, but usually the bots have it covered.”--Jack

“They’ll be okay. The team’s been ambushed plenty of times. They always—”--Miko

“BBBBBBBEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP! (OPTIMUS NNNOOOOO!)”--Bumblebee

“AAARRRGGGGHHHH!”--Optimus

“…”—the kids and Buddy

“…Rafael. Ready the groundbrigde.”—Buddy

Buddy slowly walks to the groundbrigde as Raf activates it.

They go through the portal.

Both sides saw a bridge open on the hill above them.

The bots optics widen knowing who it was.

Optimus was holding on to his wound on his side with Megatron in front of him.

Megatron also looked at the portal curiously.

What did the Autobots have up their…

Oh…

The giant predacon walked out of the portal and scanned the area.

Megatron actually stepped back seeing the site of the young Buddy.

It was almost like seeing Buddy when he first started out as a gladiator.

Soundwave was already planning several portals to help with the evacuation.

Buddy finally set their optics on Megatron and Optimus.

“MEGATRON!”--Buddy

“Is that—”--Megatron

“GET OFF OF PRIME!”--Buddy

Megatron narrows his optics at the Predacon.

“Megatron obeys NO ONE!”--Megatron

Megatron kicked Prime’s wound harshly.

The audial piercing scream that came out of Buddy’s throat made everyone try and cover them up.

It was too fast for anyone to comprehend.

Buddy had flown straight down and tackled Megatron off of Prime and proceeded to beat the ever-loving daylights out of him.

Megatron did put up a fight.

But the fight was already set the moment Megatron kicked Prime in his wound.

Buddy held no remorse for this mech.

This was no longer the Megatronus they knew from their days as gladiators.

This monster.

This Megatron.

Was the enemy.

They were close to offlining him, but Soundwave had tackled them to the ground.

Soundwave quickly sent out the groundbrigdes for the troops and Megatron could escape.

Buddy did manage to tail whip him before he went to the portal.

Buddy huffing as they carefully walk back to their team.

Ratchet is trying to patch up Prime’s wounds.

Buddy kneels down.

“Anyone who can’t walk, get on my back.”--Buddy

Buddy stayed by the injured bots side the entire time.

They absolutely refused to get treated until everyone was treated.

They absolutely did not leave Optimus’s side through the entire way, even afterwards.

“Has anyone seen Optimus?”--Jack

“No, not today.”--Arcee

“I saw him earlier with Buddy.”--Smokescreen

“Found them.”--Ratchet

Buddy has their wings and limbs around Optimus effectively trapping him to the med slab.

“You are not walking till I say so.”--Buddy

“Buddy—”--Optimus

Buddy moves their wing in front of Prime’s face.

“Sleep Pax. I’m going after Bumblebee and Ratchet next.”--Buddy

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus x platonic reader #tfp megatron

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rosh-things · 1 year

Text

Keegan Russ - NSFW Alphabet

keegan russ x fem!reader || minors dni

a/n: first time writing nsfw (and writing in general), beware of spelling errors, nsfw bellow

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

usually likes to take short naps after sex, but before doing so he always checks up on you, to make sure you're alright. he would bring you a glass of water and just cuddle while napping together.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on you - thighs. he's definitely a thigh guy, he loves anything to do with thighs. he loves grabbing, squishing and fucking them.

on himself - hands. he loves roaming his hands around your body and seeing how his touch affects you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

most of the time he cums on your thighs and belly. as long as it's safe, he loves cumming inside you and then watching it leak out of you.

he always makes you cum first, he treats getting you off as his 'main objective'.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he likes to be overstimulated. i will not elaborate.

he also enjoys his hair being pulled, though they are short, he loves when you tug on them.

and i feel like he secretly likes it when you take control during sex. he has to have control on the battlefield, so he likes to give it up to you in the bed. he's a switch, but he's usually dominant. he would submit to you only when he's comfortable enough with you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

definitely has some experience, this man has fucked before for sure. during the act he knows what to do and he does it good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary, spooning and riding, he definitely likes feeling you close.

also any position against a wall.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i think he would crack a couple of jokes, 2 or 3 maybe, but would stay serious most of the time. he keeps the playfulness for aftercare. sometimes he's too focused to say anything at all.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he doesn't care whether you shave or not, but he likes to keep his own short and neat. most of the time doesn't shave fully, likes to leave a small patch at the top.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

passionate as fuck. he loves making eye contact during sex - his eyes are glued to you the whole time. he will kiss every part of your body he can reach. definitely praises you a lot and worships your body as much as he can.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jerks off maybe like, once a week. he doesn't strike me as a super horny person, i also don't think he has time for that. if he needs to blow off the steam, he would do it with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

praise, body worshipping

marking - he loves leaving hickeys on your neck to show others that you're his. he appreciates every scratch and bite mark you leave on him

overstimulation - he's the one to overstimulate you most of the time, but as i mentioned before, he likes being overstimulated too

hair pulling - he never pulls on your hair, but secretly likes his hair pulled

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

classically, he mostly enjoys having sex in the bedroom, but wouldn't mind having sex anywhere else.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

the noises you make and the look on your face while he's buried deep inside of you never fail to turn him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that could or would hurt you, so no knife/gun play or hardcore choking.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he doesn't mind receiving, but he prefers giving waaay more. he eats pussy for his own pleasure. he does wonders with his tongue. he loves eating you out while he's kneeling on the floor and you're sitting on the bed. he also wouldn't mind face-sitting.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he likes a mix of both. the pace often depends on his mood. being fast and rough, relentlessly pounding into you feels good, but going slow, sensually dragging out his thrusts in time feels even better.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he'd do quickies before going on missions. he enjoys them, but prefers normal sex, he likes taking his time pleasuring you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he doesn't have anything against experimenting, he's quite open and likes testing out new things. when you bring something up to him that you'd like to try out, he's more than happy to take part in it.

as far as taking risk of being caught in public goes, he's only willing to have sex in a public restroom, he wouldn't want anyone catching you two in a situation like this.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can last very long, has a lot of stamina, but usually goes for 2-3 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn't own any toys, doesn't care whether you do or don't. he can pleasure you better than any sex toy would.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he likes to tease you a little bit, he kinda enjoys it when you beg him to stop the teasing and to just fuck you already.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's usually not that loud, occasionally letting out a few grunts and moans, but he knows what his voice does to you so he tries to be more noisy and also talk more during sex.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

sometimes he likes to keep parts of his gear (or the whole gear) on during sex. there's just something about you being completely naked while he's mostly clothed that turns him incredibly on. he also likes to wear the mask too.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

5.6 in/14 cm, average girth, curved slightly up.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

his sex drive is pretty average. not too high, not too low. i think his sex drive would grow higher, the longer he hasn't seen you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

sex tires him out, so as mentioned earlier, he likes taking naps after you're done. before he falls asleep himself, he likes to watch you falling asleep, stroking your cheek or rubbing your back. once he's sure you're sleeping, he will fall asleep too.

#call of duty #call of duty ghosts #cod #cod ghosts #keegan p russ #keegan russ #keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #alphabet

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zorosimpclub · 3 months

Text

online friends? – Zoro SFW

characters: zoro roronoa x fem!reader

fluff | SFW

word count: 2.7k

She grumbled under her breath, fingers gliding across the console as she delved into the game with her online friends. It was an all-guy gang, which is why she chose to keep her mic on mute. Sure, she interacted with them, but it was through the safety net of the chat lobby. Using the mic felt like opening a can of worms—better to let them assume she was just another dude. After all, did it really matter? Online, she went by the name 'Solar' to keep a comfortable distance from revealing her real identity.

Zoro's voice blasted through the mic, cutting through the virtual battlefield. "Oi! Solar, what the hell was that?!"

She laughed to herself, Zoro was so easy to annoy. She just kept following his avatar around instead of actually playing the game, it was so fun to mess with him.

Reluctantly, she found herself acknowledging a truth she wasn't eager to admit – there was an undeniable allure and charm to Zoro's voice. It was deep, soothing and downright hypnotising – it sent a shiver down her spine. His words carried a certain charisma that managed to captivate even in the midst of a virtual battle. And if his display picture was any indication, his face was just as attractive as his voice.

With a silent sigh, she pondered the weirdness of being drawn to someone purely based on their virtual presence. How is that normal? She thought.

"Oh, that's great," he growled, but couldn't help the annoyed laugher as he tried to dodge her attempts at disrupting him. "Play the damn game asshole!”

Sanji piped up from his headset, “Shut up mosshead, you’re distracting the rest of us.”

"You shut up, shitty cook! And Solar man, play the damn game I said!" Zoro quickly got bored of being chased around by her avatar and instead started chasing her character.

She huffed and made her avatar run away from Zoro. It was times like these she wished she could just switch her mic on and partake in the banter with her gaming crew, but alas, they didn't know that she was a woman...yet.

Usopp's voice echoed through the mic, a mischievous tone evident in his words. "Oooo Zoro and Solar, sitting in a tree. Get a room guys, bleugh."

He couldn’t deny the fact that their countless midnight texts had gotten him to form somewhat of a crush on ‘Solar’. Solar just… got him. But he quickly shoved any thoughts of it advancing past online buddies because the thought of being in love with a person who he had never seen let alone heard seemed absurd to him.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the rest of the crew. She rolled her eyes at Usopp's teasing, her fingers still deftly navigating the game controls to keep her avatar one step ahead of Zoro's relentless pursuit.

Zoro, not one to back down, retorted with a gruff, "Shut it, Usopp! Stop making shit awkward, Solar is probably a 60 year old man."

Sanji spoke up quickly, "Yeah and he'd still be out of your league dumbass."

She chuckled under her breath, contemplating whether it was time to break her silence and join in on the banter.

"God, you guys are annoying." he groaned as he paused the game, turning to face his screen as if he would be able to see them through it. They were assholes, but she couldn't help but laugh at their comments, especially the one Sanji directed at Zoro.

He was so caught up in his frustration that he didn't notice her pausing the game. Maybe it was time to finally let them know who she was...

In a moment of bold spontaneity, she reached for the mic attached to her headset, her fingers hesitating for a split second before gripping it firmly. With a swift motion, she unmuted herself, the subtle click signalling the end of her silence.

"I can assure you that I'm not a 60 year old man." She spoke, feigning confidence. This was the first time the guys realised that she was in fact, a woman.

Zoro froze at her voice, she sounded so...soft-spoken. His heart jumped in his chest as he quickly put two and two together.

He didn't know what to say at first, his whole vocabulary had gone out the window as he stared at his screen.

"W-what did you say?" He finally let out, sounding like an idiot.

Luffy piped up, cutting Zoro’s sentence short, “Wait, is this why you didn’t want to talk on the mic?”

“Yes.”

“Huh…it doesn’t matter who you are to us, you kick ass on the daily, you didn’t have to worry about us reacting in a negative way…c’mon Solar, I thought you knew us by now.”

“My love, I bet you’re as beautiful as you sound – I am extremely blessed to be talking to you right now.”

“Oi shut up Sanji! Stop being creepy. This is probably why she didn’t want to tell you.” Usopp snapped but laughed into the mic.

A soft laughter escaped her lips, and with each gentle chuckle, the tension that had nestled in her nerves seemed to wash away quickly. She couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed about the whole situation, her cheeks growing flushed at the teasing from her friends. Thankfully, they had taken the news well and didn’t treat her any differently, well, besides Sanji. The other men laughed at him, his excessive flirting, making her let out another soft chuckle.

Zoro felt as though he could breathe again as her laughter filled his ears. The way that she laughed caused his chest to ache, a smile spreading across his face as he focused on her voice.

"Why the silence, Zoro?" she teased quietly.

Part of her still felt a little nervous, was he going to be awkward? Is this going to change their midnight texting ritual now that he knew she was a woman? Surely it shouldn't matter? But why was he being quiet? Her heart sunk slightly at the thought of losing his friendship.

Zoro's mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, he didn't know how to respond. She had just caught him off guard, his brain didn't really register what was happening at the moment.

He tried to find his voice but ended up stuttering instead. In all honesty, he felt like everything that he could've said at that moment would've been cheesy or just made him look like an idiot.

Before he could respond Luffy spoke up, "Alright crew, I'm logging off. I have work tomorrow." Which was followed by a chorus of 'same' from the rest of the group.

She frowned at the screen when they all left the lobby, was Zoro going to leave too?

"I...guess I'll log off too," he finally let out, his eyes drifting to the exit button. But a spark flared within his heart, making him pause his action.

Instead, he muted himself and waited. She raised her brow and bit her bottom lip, feeling nervous. Why didn’t he leave?

"Hey? You still here, Zoro?”

For a solid ten seconds, Zoro didn't respond, causing her to grow anxious in the silence. Surely he was just busy with his exit button? Then why hadn't he left yet?

"Yo." He finally let out, just as the silence turned awkward. Her head shot back at her screen, surprised to find him still there.

"So..." She started, not knowing what to say to him, not wanting to stop talking to him either.

And neither did he. Zoro's fingers hovered over the mouse, the cursor hovering over the close button. But he couldn't bring himself to press it.

He wanted to continue their conversation, to hear more of her voice.

"So, you still wanna talk?" He finally asked, hoping she would say yes.

"...yes." She squeaked awkwardly. Why on earth was she feeling so nervous? This is ridiculous she thought.

"Uh..." Zoro couldn't help but chuckle, she was obviously flustered. How he enjoyed hearing the sweet tone of her voice. She was so adorable.

"You sound nervous." He let out, making her cheeks grow hot.

"I do not!" She protested, "I'll have you know, I am perfectly okay.”

"Yeah? We both know you're lying." he teased, and she could almost hear the smirk on his voice.

"You sound nervous, don't deny it. Hey, it's alright to be flustered around this hunk of a man." he teased, making her blush darker.

"Ha! Hunk of a man? You're probably not the most attractive, but that's okay, we all still love you very much Zoro." She retorted, obviously she knew was most likely attractive.

He had to be, his profile picture was of a green haired man's side profile (which she had assumed was him).

He laughed loudly at her comeback, and her cheeky tone only caused his smile to widen. She took no bullshit from him, and he admired that about her.

“What makes you think that I’m not attractive?” He challenged. The man knew he was a walking thirst trap but he liked his ego stroked every once in a while.

"Just a hunch." She laughed into the headset and looked up at her bedroom ceiling.

"Oh yeah?" His tone rose, trying to challenge her.

"Why don't we bet on it? I show you what I look like, and if I'm not attractive then you leave the call. But if you do find me attractive, then you have to give in to one request of mine.”

"And what is your request exactly?" She asked quietly, the thought of seeing him making her feel giddy.

"You'll have to wait and find out. Besides, that's the fun part of a bet, isn't it?" He was being cheeky, knowing that her curiosity would have her agree.

"Ugh, fine!”

"Okay then, you ready to see me or what?" He teased, feeling a rush from the banter they were having.

"Hurry up, I can't wait to be proven right." She laughed, knowing very well she was wrong. She wanted to see him.

He chuckled and clicked the camera button on his computer, allowing his webcam to run as the screen switched to him. Her heart hammered in her chest when she focused her eyes on the screen in front of her. It took a few seconds before the image stabilised, revealing him, and his gorgeous face. He had short green hair that fell in all the right places and piercing eyes which went hand in hand with a lopsided smirk.

For a lack of better words, he was hot. She felt her cheeks heat up further in response, thanking the stars that he couldn't see her reaction.

“So, I take it you lost the bet?" He let out the question in a sarcastic tone, confident in his own attractiveness.

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side slightly as he waited for a response from her, smirk still on his face. Her compliment would be nice, but just her being speechless would have to suffice.

She coughed to bring her thoughts to a halt, and clear her throat. "Fine, you win. What was the request?”

"I get to choose anything I want you to do with zero objection from you." he said smugly, the corner of his lips curling up into a sly grin.

"Uhuh. What is it?" She somehow already felt like she knew what was coming.

"I want you to be my date for a night." He teased, letting out a chuckle as he spoke.

Okay, she didn’t know that this was what was coming. He knew she'd roll her eyes at him for even suggesting. How was what he said even logical? They had just found out a more personal part of their lives, it would've been silly to be talking about dating.

"You don't even know how I look like." She deadpanned but her hands were shaking from the adrenaline.

Zoro chuckled, the sound coming through the headset sounding rather amused. "So, does that mean you won't even consider my request?" He playfully feigned hurt, placing his hand on his chest, flexing his arm muscles in the process (she couldn’t help but realise how built he was).

Besides, you and I both know there was more to this than just a friendship… the way we texted past midnight everyday? C’mon sweetheart.”

He was right, even before the face and voice reveal, there was definitely something brewing between them. She would tell him about her fears and dreams, him doing the same. Up until now it was just a faceless friendship, but even she couldn't deny how quickly it had progressed in the past hour or so.

"C’mon, let's get a little more intimate with this now that you know what I look like." he said smoothly, leaning forward a little and giving her a smirk.

"W-what?"

He threw his head back and laughed, he was so mesmerising – she needed to hear more of him, see more of him.

"Not like that, I meant, let me see how you look like." he said, grinning from ear to ear hoping she'd agree.

Zoro smirked at her stutter, it was obvious that she was trying not to blush. He had her right where he wanted her.

"Oh sweetheart, you know you want to. Don't hide from me now.” he continued teasingly, feeling the butterflies in his stomach begin to flutter at the playful bantering.

She held her breath and hovered her cursor over the show webcam button for a bit before biting the bullet to turn it on. She smiled and gave an awkward wave and bit down on her lip, not knowing how to interact with him. "Hey Zoro.”

Zoro paused upon her appearance on the screen, his smirk suddenly falling from his face. There she was- the woman that he had come to have feelings for even without the knowledge of each other’s appearance.

Her beauty was otherworldly, and her smile made her look absolutely irresistible.

"Fuck, you’re beautiful."

He let out the compliment without thinking, and then quickly paused. Why did he say that? It was just a compliment, but it sounded so...intimate.

Her eyes shot up at her camera and she blushed intensely, stuttering a soft thank you. He chuckled upon seeing her blush. How could someone be so cute? Her features are gorgeous but her personality is what made her even more attractive, she was cheeky but also shy. It was something that he couldn't resist.

"God, you're adorable when you blush." he teased, his tone teasing and playful, almost seductive.

"S-shut up." She looked away feeling embarrassed as a small smile graced her lips.

"I could keep teasing you like this all night, you know? It's a shame we're online and not in person, seeing you get all flustered like this makes me want to make you do things that make you blush more." he said in a teasing tone.

She gasped and hid her face in her hands, never did she expect her evening to go like this when she revealed her voice.

"Oh get your mind out the gutter woman, I meant I'll give you the tightest hug, which'll make you blush." He grinned, knowing that he definitely meant it in the way she imagined.

“So what do you say to that date? I remember you telling me you’re 30 mins away from me.”

She nodded, not knowingly trusting her voice to answer. She knew it would come out all stuttery and shaky.

"Then it's settled. We'll go out on Saturday evening, at the city centre station at 6PM sharp." He smirked, feeling satisfied with himself and how everything had turned out, her shyness aside.

With a new found confidence, she nodded again, this time with a smile. “It’s a date.”

–

part 2 >

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #zoro imagine #roronoa zoro #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #zoro fluff #zoro fanfic #zoro x y/n #zoro x yn #zoro x you

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