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flowerandblood · 7 months ago

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Duty and desire (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, angst, praise kink activated, lactation kink, fluff ]

[ description: An incident between her husband and their sons causes her uncle to completely break down. She decides to show him how deep her feelings are towards him and to comfort him. A heartbroken, vulnerable, infatuated Aemond in need of simple tenderness. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. I couldn't sleep and that's how I mentally coped with what I saw in the second episode of the second season. You're welcome, lol. If you still didn't watch it, wait with reading it (if you don't like any kind of spoilers). It can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

He had returned to their chamber earlier, tense and visibly frustrated despite the fact that he usually spent that part of the day sparring with their sons, training them in the wielding of the sword.

She smiled at him from above her book, watching as he involuntarily looked into the cradle where Visenya slept peacefully.

The birth of their first daughter was joyous news for the entire kingdom, including them.

"So early?" She asked, spreading out comfortably in her chair, curious about this change of plans. Her uncle only pursed his lips at her words, walking over to the table where she sat and reached for a cup, into which he poured himself a little wine.

He remained silent.

A bad sign.

"What's happened?" She asked immediately, seeing that hundreds of thoughts were currently running through his mind, which if they did not find an outlet would eventually explode in the form of his fury.

He took a few deep sips from his goblet without looking at her, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.

"Viserys and Aegon have suggested that Ser Robert should be the one to train them today. They apparently want to become archers." He said with a sneer and anger that startled her. She swallowed hard, closing the book, understanding full well that his words were only the tip of what he was really thinking about.

"In your presence they always feel they have to prove themselves. They're afraid of being ridiculed in front of you. Maybe it's…"

"At their age I dreamt of my father doing for me what I do for them. This is our time together." He growled, looking out of the corner of his eye into the area where she sat, but not directly at her, immersed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.

"I know." She whispered and her words, something about the way she said them made his lip tremble, made him lower his head in shame and cover his face with his hand, drawing in air loudly.

"They are terrified at the sight of me. Both of them. They don't love me, they just fear me. Their own father." He mouthed, his quivering voice betraying that although he tried to control himself, something about the thought had broken him.

She stood up from her seat, shaking her head, coming up to him quickly, wanting to touch his arm with her hand, but he moved away and turned his head, not wanting her to see what was happening to him.

"If you could hear with what pride and admiration they speak of you when you are not there. They so desperately want to please you." She muttered in pain, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he might have believed he was a bad father, when they both knew how hard he tried.

"To please me? My sons, they live to please me? And if they don't then what will happen to them? Hm?" He asked and fell silent, looking at her at last, his eye red with grief and despair, his face simultaneously red and pale with emotion, his lips parted in a heavy breath.

He covered his eyes with his hand as he burst into silent sobs, as if he had not stifled the thought for a day or a month, but for years, ever since their first son had been born.

She looked at him in disbelief, stunned, at the same time hurt and saddened by his words, by the thought of how he judged and perceived himself.

"Looking into my eyes do you see anything other than love?" She asked, renewing her attempt, taking a step towards him, and this time he didn't pushed her away, looking at her uncertainly.

"– it's something else –" He whispered.

"– how can it be? – do you think I would love a man who is a bad father to my children? –" She asked further, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, his cheeks red from tears.

"– stop it –" He said and turned away, wiping his face, walking to the other side of the room, embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness.

"– sit down on the bed, husband – I want to explain a few things to you –" She finally said.

He sighed heavily and did as she asked, making room beside himself, looking down at his hands, heartbroken. She, however, walked up to him and did not sit next to him, but on his lap, surprising him by taking his warm, red face in her hands, stroking his moist skin with her thumbs.

For a moment she simply looked at him, all helpless and vulnerable, feeling the heat in her chest.

"– you're defending our family – you're the rock that protects us – you have to show strength – be determined – and that's hard when you're king and father at the same time – the burden of the crown is great and you know it – you're trying to prepare them for it –" She whispered, with each successive word placing kisses on his red face: on his forehead, his temple, his eyebrows, his eyelid, his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.

She felt his hands involuntarily rise to her waist, stroking her through the material of her gown.

"– so why don't they understand this? – why do they push me away? –" He muttered, focusing his gaze on her full, plump lips, his manhood hidden in his breeches pulsed softly in a natural reaction to her closeness.

"– because they are still children – children who need their father to love them no matter what – a father who will sometimes let them go their own way –" She said softly, in a gentle, light motion untying the black ribbon at the back of his head, making the front strands of his silver hair fall over his shoulders.

"– I just want to spend time with them like a father with his sons – I want them to need me –" He whispered, and she nodded, letting his broad hand move her hip closer, making her body press against his.

"– I know, my husband – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered and heard him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his erection pulsed hard between her thighs.

She licked her lips, wondering if he was aroused by what he was hearing.

"– my husband is so good to me –" She gasped softly, letting their lips join in hot, sticky, lazy kisses, making wonderful heat surge through her body. "– my sweet friend – my sweet boy –"

She shuddered as his fingers tightened on the material of her gown, his throat leaving a sound she had never heard before.

He moaned.

Not the way he usually did, low and deep, when it was on the verge of panting, but high, the way she did when he gave her sweet pleasure.

Their fingers tightened on their bodies, letting their mouths find each other in greedy, violent, deep kisses – his cock between her thighs swelled all over and pulsed, hot, betraying that he was now completely ready to possess her.

"– I love you – please –" He muttered, forcibly ripping her gown off her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, all swollen with milk. Something like a sigh of delight and relief left his throat as he sank his face into her sternum, his thumbs stroking and teasing her nipples hard from the cold.

She moaned as she tilted her head back, untying the material of his breeches, feeling the wonderful, pleasurable wetness between her thighs, proving that she was ready to receive him deep inside her.

"– my sweet husband deserve to be soothed – doesn't he? – to feel his beloved wife – how warm she is – how wet she is –" She whispered, cupping his swollen, quivering erection in her palm, feeling how incredibly hard it was, its tip thick and smooth, dripping with his moisture.

"– yes –" He mumbled in shame, directing one of her breasts to his face, holding it in his hand, finding her nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it loudly along with her milk as she guided the head of his cock against her pulsing slit.

"– ah – my husband is so hard for me – makes me feel so fucking good – so, so big –" She cooed, sinking slowly onto his manhood only to lift herself on it with a loud click of her wetness, opening her thirsty, fleshy cunt again and again on his long, throbbing erection.

"– f-fuck –" He exhaled, embarrassed, imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, clearly aroused by what she was saying and how she was behaving, needing her affection, her acceptance, her closeness, everything he couldn't ask of anyone else outside the door of their chamber.

"– it's all yours, my dearest – I can ride you all night – you'll fill me with your seed as many times as I need, won't you? –" She gasped, and he groaned loudly into the skin of her breasts, clamping his hot hands on her hips, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, panting and quivering along with her.

She wasn't sure she had ever experienced a similar orgasm, so overpowering, hot, soothing, delightful.

"– f-fuck – f-fuck, Aemond, yes –" She whimpered, throwing her head back as she felt his body convulse, his warm seed filling her womb wit his low moans of pleasure.

He released her nipple from his mouth, panting heavily, snuggling his cheek into her chest, letting her arms embrace him in a tight grip, her lips placing tender, hot kisses on his hair.

"– forgive me – I'm ashamed – I –"

"– you are my husband – let me give you relief when you need it –" She whispered, combing her fingers through his long hair.

"– but – it was –"

"– a husband can show tenderness and understanding to his wife, but a wife to her husband cannot? –" She asked in pain, and he swallowed hard, letting out a loud, shuddering breath.

"– it won't happen again –" He muttered, needing, apparently, for her to tell that lie so he could stop thinking about how weak he was, how he needed it, how pleasant it was.

That he would beg in his mind for more.

More of her tenderness.

More of her praise.

More of her love.

"– as you wish –"

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wonwoonlight · 2 years ago

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when he finds out you're sick through the internet

A/N: idol!au. OC is also a celebrity though I don't explicitly say what. tiny teensy angst bc cheol is a worried Boyfriend💔 1.5k words! another random word vomits bc that's the only way i know how to write now lol idk why but everytime i write this kinda fic it's always seungcheol looooooooooooooool. not proofread, but enjoy!

[part 2]

Seungcheol doesn't really get angry.

For the three years you've known him in which you've dated him for two, you've only seen him actually get angry a total number of three times. None of them was directed at you, and all of them are for reasons that you would've exploded upon way before he did.

Seungcheol is patient and rational.

Seungcheol is normally patient and rational.

But he's never normal when it comes to you. And even though the patient bit still stands, nothing about his feelings towards you is ever rational. He's a little too emotional, a little too rash, and a little too worrisome when it comes to your wellbeing.

So when he's relaxing in the practice room during a break with his members, for once not on his phone because he's charging it somewhere on one of the tables, and he hears Seungkwan gasps a little upon his phone, he thinks there's another scandal blowing up upon the industry. But when the younger guy's blown out eyes meet him, colors drained from his face, Seungcheol hates that he knew it could mean one thing: something happened to you.

He shoots up almost immediately, not registering any words that come out of Seungkwan's mouth. His hands shake a little when he unlocks his phone, and his heart drops when he reads the official post from your company's twitter account that states your current condition, that you might need to pause your activities for the time being due to health reasons, apologizes for the worries, and asks for the fans' understanding.

He wants to get angry.

At who, he’s not sure.

At your company, for pushing you even though they know your schedule is practically inhumane? At your manager, for not making sure that you have decent rest in between schedules? At you, because he’s been telling you to fucking stop running towards whatever goal you have in mind but you insist that you know your limit and you’ll know when to stop?

Apparently, no you fucking don’t because else this wouldn’t have happened.

The rest of the members look at him in worry, and Jeonghan silently walks to their manager and the other staff to let them know about the situation at hand, that Seungcheol would probably not be in his best state to continue practice at the moment. The leader would probably insist that they continue anyway, but they’ve practiced for almost five hours already anyway and they could spare an hour or two for the leader when it’s clear that he’s worried beyond measure.

Seungcheol bites his lip as he tries to call you, his concern skyrocketing by the seconds the longer the beeping sound goes, no sign of you picking it up. He tries one more time, but you still don’t answer and he’s about to hurl his phone at the wall when your manager calls him instead, tells him that he sees his name flashing on your phone, informs your whereabouts, and that he should just drop by your place in a few hours if he wants to see you because right now you’re still sleeping in the car and he’s taking you home.

He finds it hard to say anything, a lump growing in his throat until he manages to swallow it down and ask how you’re doing right now.

“She’s… exhausted.” Your manager says quietly. “I know it’s my job to take care of her but… you know her. She didn’t tell me that she’s been having a hard time sleeping at night the past few weeks and it finally took a toll on her.”

It’s hard to suppress his anger, his breath heavier than usual though it’s not too noticeable unless they know Seungcheol. He wants to scream at your manager, but he knows it won’t do anyone any good and it’s really not the time nor the place for that. So he mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ before he hangs up, his members looking at him with a mix of worry and understanding when he looks up at them.

“Go.” Soonyoung says. “We’ve practiced enough today. Take care of your girlfriend and tell us later.”

Seungcheol nods and sprints out of the room, beyond thankful that his members always have his back.

Seungcheol is glaring at you when you wake up, though the way his thumb is still softly caressing your head and the worry in his eyes clearly tell you that his anger is nowhere near his distress.

You offer him a weak smile, unable to defend yourself because you know what his eyes are scolding you for.

“Sorry?” You whisper and immediately cringe at how dry your throat feels.

He doesn’t say anything as he helps you sit down and hands you your favorite mug. Taking in the moment, you frown at how weak you feel, though you really only have yourself to blame because you genuinely thought you’re okay and you can take it.

You know it’s on you for taking as many schedules as possible, practically everything that your company offers you even when your manager says he doesn’t think it’s physically possible for you to do all that in such a short span.

Thinking about it now, you realize that your manager and the rest of your team also gets the short end of the stick through your decision. Him, your make up team, and your stylists would all need to be with you and your ambition forgets to consider their wellbeing even when you wrongly claim you would be able to handle it.

Guilt starts to eat you inside out, and it grows even larger as you see Seungcheol in front of you–didn’t he say he had practice today?–his face screams distressed and his shoulders tense since God knows when.

“Hey, talk to me.” He says softly when he notices you’ve been spacing out and you’re nibbling on your lip like you would when you’re anxious, taking away your mug before enveloping your hands with his.

You tear up almost immediately, and he moves to sit on the edge of your bed to usher you into his chest, patiently listens to your nonsense as you try to talk through your tears. He gets the gist of it: sorry–manager–company–wellbeing–my team–didn’t think it through–made you worry–overestimated myself–sorry–and the list goes on. He exhales as he hugs you tighter, both understanding and upset at the turns of events.

Being in the same industry, he gets what you’re trying to do, understands that you feel the need to keep on running while you’re able to, relates that you’re doing everything for yourself and your fans. But still, it’s hard not to be upset to know you’re pushing yourself too hard when he’s been telling you there’s no need to run as fast as you are without resting; that you’ll only hurt yourself one way or another and he hates that the one time he needs to be right, it’s this.

You end up laying down against his chest on your bed, hiccups and sniffles filling your bedroom along with a random song he’s humming against your head. You pull away to properly look at him, the first time you’re doing it since you woke up earlier, and his hum stops in question.

“Thank you.” You manage to whisper, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt without even realizing. “For being here when I woke up.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand why you’re thanking him, simply leans down to plant a long, chaste kiss against your forehead before he pulls up your blanket so it’ll cover you properly.

“Just… don’t surprise me like that again, okay?” His breath is warm against your face, pleasantly so, and you nod as you promise him that you’ll take better care of yourself moving forward.

“Are you staying the night?”

“Yes, I’ll return to the dorm the day after tomorrow. They’ve given me a day off.” You cringe at his words, though thankful that he’s been in the industry long enough to attain that kind of privilege. But still, you feel bad that you’re obstructing his practice and his members just because you’re foolish enough to– “Hey. Stop. I know what you’re thinking. No need to feel bad. I’m actually glad I get to rest with you.”

“But–”

“No buts. The kids can do without me for a day.” He playfully bumps his forehead against yours, his lips hover above yours merely centimeters apart. He doesn’t meet your lips, though he kisses their corner sweetly and wraps you back into his embrace to the point where there’s no space between you two. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good night, Cheol.”

“Night, baby.”

“See you in my dream?”

“I’ll see you anywhere you want me to be.”

He hugs you tighter, and you try your best to return the gesture despite the awkward position of your arms. It’s uncomfortable and you’re sure your arms will be sore the next morning.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when you succumb to sleep and find Seungcheol smiling at you on the other side of your dream, as real as he can be.

cont.

#seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups fluff #seungcheol oneshot #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen scenario #seventeen au #seungcheol angst #seventeen angst #scoups angst #seventeen imagines #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines

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pickingupmymercedes · 6 months ago

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congrats on 500 followers!!! Could you do a blurb with like theyre staying with his family and its all just comfort and fun maybe she’s pregnant, and could you do like for dialouge:

“It feels like a dream. And I never want to wake up.” like shes happy and got everything she wanted

Omggg, my heart exploded with this one. Someone give this man a child (I'm open)

"If feels like a dream. And I never want to wake up"

The shadows of the crackling fire cast danced on the walls of the cozy and empty living room. Y/N sat curled up on the sofa, her daughter nestled in the crook of her arm as she tried to get the toddler to sleep, but the little girl, wide-eyed and alert, seemed mesmerized by the activities and noise around her grandmother’s house.

It was Christmas Eve, and Lewis’s family got everything ready for their famous Christmas lunch.

Carmen, Lewis's mother, emerged from the kitchen, a steaming mug in her hand. Spotting Y/N, she smiled warmly. "You look like you could use a cup of tea," she said, handing her the drink

Y/N accepted gratefully, wrapping her free hand around it for warmth. "Thank you" she replied, her voice low but soft.

Carmen sat down beside her, her eyes filled with a gentle warmth. "She's growing up so fast," she said, her voice revealing the wonder she always held at her granddaughter.

Y/N nodded; her gaze fixing back on her daughter. "It feels like just yesterday she was this tiny little thing."

Carmen chuckled. "Time flies when you have them."

Y/N smiled; her heart full as she studied the other kids, almost pre-teens by now, excitedly talking to each other in the kitchen and the family room.

Lewis and their daughter had spent the whole with them. Willow and Kaden carefully dotting around the toddler and making sure they told her every little detail of their Christmas traditions.

Carmen had also spent their day watching the little girl, her interactions with Lewis, with Y/n, with her ants and uncles. She had wondered if it’d ever happen to Lewis, the possibility of him settling down, finding someone who could truly make him happy. Give him the family he always dreamed of.

And then Y/N had come into his life, and everything changed.

"You're doing an amazing job, you know" Carmen said, her voice filled with admiration.

Y/N blushed. "It's not that much work" she replied modestly. "They’re really easy to love."

Carmen shook her head. "It's more than that. You've created such a beautiful home for Lewis and this little one. You've given him a family, something he wondered if he’d have."

Y/N's gave a shy and small smile to the elder. "I love him, Carmen," she said softly. "More than words can say. And this one… she's the greatest gift I could ever ask for."

Carmen reached out and took Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. "I know," she said. "And I'm so grateful to have you both in my life."

Y/N looked down at her daughter, who was now fighting hard her sleep, her tiny head resting on Y/N's shoulder.

"It feels like a dream," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And I never want to wake up."

Carmen smiled, her eyes glistening as she saw Lewis standing by the threshold watching the scene in front of him. "Me neither, dear," she replied to the both of them. "Me neither."

______________________________________________________________

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sydnikov · 2 years ago

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saw you were asking about requests and if that’s still the case: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process.

either established relationship or a feelings realization maybe? whatever you’re most comfortable with.

In Five || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov/Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Cursing (mild this time), sports injury (torn ACL/ligament), steamy kissing, bad proofreading, so much angst, but don’t worry there’s fluff at the end

A/N: I really tortured myself writing this. The emotions are still high, I hate the Bruins (sorry Bruins followers), and I hope you guys get all the feels as you read this. In all seriousness though, THANK YOU to whoever sent this in because it got me out of my writer’s block. (p.s. I’ve now opened requests to get me more inspired… so go submit stuff!!) anyways, I hope y’all enjoy 😁

It wasn’t bad. Not at first glance—at least that’s what you told yourself from the stands, clenching your fingers so hard they left nail indentations in the middle of your palms.

But you knew. You knew your best friend because you could read him like a book. Every twitch of the eye, a quirk of his lips, they all were a glimpse into his mind of what he was thinking. Andrei is your favorite book, and you just reached the chapter where everything starts to fall apart.

He was trying to hide it, the pain he was feeling from the quick stumble he took at center ice. It was just a small muscle pull, though, right? That’s what you thought, but then you saw him skate to the bench, favoring his right knee with the expression of one who knew he messed up.

Andrei played the rest of the game, but as you headed down to the locker room you couldn’t fight the feeling of dread steadily creeping up your heart.

“Hey,” you greeted a few of the girls leaning against the wall, waiting for their significant others to finish interviews. You were sort of an outcast in that manner, because Andrei wasn’t yours… No matter how much you wanted him to be. “Has he come out yet?” you asked.

The solemn shake of their heads gave you your answer, and you didn’t even bother trying to hide your worry when you leaned back against the wall with them, anxiously chewing your lip. The time came and went, seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to an hour of watching the other Hurricanes players come and go—none of them the man you wanted, no needed to see.

It was times like these where you questioned how you got here, waiting on Andrei like a girlfriend but being firmly stuck in the friend zone. He had never made you feel like anything less because of it, but you felt it aching in your very bones when he’d flash a smile to the girls at the bars you frequented, or when he’d ask you whether the blue shirt or the red shirt would look better on a date with the cute girl he met at a shopping mall.

It was funny, too, because you hadn’t met him any differently than he’s met the other girls he’s taken out. It was at a bar, actually, one in downtown Raleigh not too far of a drive from PNC Arena, and you were nursing a drink with a few friends from work when the place exploded in activity because players from the Carolina Hurricanes had just arrived.

You didn’t ask “who?” like one of your coworkers asked, because you loved hockey and went to a decent amount of games, and you could confidently answer which player had which number. In one game you’d even managed to snag glass seats, and that had been the best night of your life.

Never had you actually met any of the players, though. Odd, considering you had always made it a habit to go out at least once on the weekends, but one fateful Saturday night was when you finally were able to get a good look at the players outside of their hockey uniforms. You were content to merely watch them from a distance, but soon you realized they were just like any other regular bar patrons and soon lost interest in eyeing them a few tables back.

It was as you were ordering another drink that you caught from the corner of your eyes a body settling down on your right, too close to be convenient because there were other open seats far from you. You hadn’t been looking for a hookup that night, though, so you figured playing hard-to-get might ward off any men looking for a quick one-night stand.

“Hi,” the man suddenly spoke, accent too thick to be attributed to intoxication. A foreigner? You met his eyes, your gaze colliding with warm brown that reminded you of the hot chocolate you’d buy to keep your hands warm in the winter. “Drink not up to standards?” he said, leaning against the bar counter to get a better look at you.

Your brain had short-circuited, because wow this guy was good-looking, and it only took another minute of analyzing his features with your tipsy brain to realize you were talking to Andrei Svechnikov, or rather, he was talking to you.

“Not much of a drinker to begin with.” you had replied smoothly, shocking even yourself because talking to attractive men had never been a strong suit. “What about you? What do you drink?”

You and Andrei, who had later introduced himself and to which you responded with a cheeky quirk of your lips, “I know”, had hit it off immediately. You talked for hours that night, unable to shake the undeniable chemistry you had between you until one of your friends ran into you slurring her words and stumbling in place that signaled your outing time was up.

You exchanged numbers that night, and unbeknownst to either of you, your hearts were beating in tandem for days after, and brains spiraling with ‘what ifs’ and ‘I think they like me’. Unfortunately… It had never gone beyond that, because communication was hard to begin with for Andrei without the added challenge of having to speak English, and well–past relationships have made it a little hard for you to put your trust in people.

So, here you were. Confidently able to say that Andrei was one of your closest friends who you just so happened to be in love with, but knowing it would never go beyond that. You’d rather have Andrei in your life as a friend than not at all, right?

That’s what you told yourself when you finally heard the familiar sound of Andrei’s deep voice from the locker room, coming closer and closer as the distance between you decreased.

“No, no,” Andrei said, firmly, finally making his appearance. “No hospital. I feel fine.”

“Son, you’re favoring your knee. You need to go, now.” Head Coach Rod Brind’Amour marched in right behind the left winger. “I let you wait out the rest of the game, that’s what we agreed.”

Andrei remained in place, stubbornly glaring at the older man with the two looking like raging bulls getting ready to charge the other.

“‘Drei?” you finally found the courage to speak, hesitantly stepping forward and breaking the heated glare between the two men. You didn’t even notice until now that the athletic trainer was waiting behind them, phone held to his ear. “What’s going on?”

Immediately, the Russian’s eyes whipped towards you and he stepped back from Rod immediately. He said your name in slight confusion, even embarrassment at being caught in the metaphorical pissing match between him and his coach.

“I—” he licked his lips, struggling to find the words in English. “My knee. It is… Messed up.”

“Messed up?” you said. “What do you mean?”

That’s when Rod popped in. “He took a bit of a stumble on the ice, it didn’t look too serious at first but his knee is hurting.” He turned to glare at Andrei. “He can barely stand on it.”

Andrei clenched his jaw, attempting to shift his weight onto his right knee, but he could barely manage to stand before his face twisted up in pain and he had to use the wall to balance himself.

You stepped up to the Russian, worriedly wringing your hands together before stilling them to grab your stubborn friend's arm. “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” you smiled wryly, attempting to mask your worry with a small tease.

Andrei towered over you, but his size had always made you feel safe rather than scared, and that applied to now, roo. “I am fine, darling,” he murmured the pet name in Russian, his voice matching the softness of his eyes he could never hide when looking at you. Sometimes he’d speak in his native tongue in front of you because he knew you didn’t understand, and the scowl on your face afterward always made him laugh.

But, even though he was definitely not fine, he could barely take having to bother his teammates and coaches with his issues, nonetheless you. He didn't want you to see him so weak, at least not like this.

“My knee is just stiff. Sore.” he shot a look towards Rod, who up until this moment had been staring at the wall to give the two of you privacy. “It is not that bad, I am sure of it.”

“Then you’ll go to the hospital to get it checked out since it’s ‘not that bad’.” Rod deadpanned, finally breaking the bubble of tension that always seemed to surround you and Andrei when together.

“I agree with him, Andrei,” you said, placing another hand on his arm to gain his attention. “You need to get it looked at, at the very least.”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, peering up at him as he stood over you. You could see the hesitation on his face, knowing his protesting was mostly because he hated bothering others with his problems.

“If not for your career, do it for me?” you said, attempting to bring back his smile by poking him in the chest. “Please?”

A moment of silence, you staring at Andrei and Andrei staring at you…

“—fine.”

He agreed, but his knee was not fine as he said it was. It was bad because it wasn’t actually his knee that had been causing his pain, but rather a torn ligament connected to the knee that turned out to be the ACL in his right leg.

And Andrei was devastated. You weren’t allowed to be in the room with him while they checked him out because he needed an MRI, but Martin and Seth were and it was them who came up to you in the hallway, grim looks on their faces as they broke the news. You could hear the raised voices of both Andrei and Brind’Amour shouting from the room.

You couldn’t see Andrei’s face, but you felt your heart breaking for him anyways as the doctor probably told him how long his recovery would take, the physical therapy he would need to endure, and the amount of time he wouldn’t be able to play hockey for.

“Nine months,” Andrei said, angrily typing away on his phone to his brother, Evgeny, probably. “Maybe six if I am lucky.”

You remained silent, watching him from the kitchen counter at a loss for words. You had offered to drive Andrei home, unofficially taking on the role of caretaker since Martin lived with his girlfriend and Seth was, well… Seth.

Andrei was on the couch, dressed in an old Hurricanes hoodie with shorts, his right leg propped up on a stool wrapped in a temporary cast. His face was flushed, and his hair messy from all the times he had run his hands through it. You knew he was in pain, both mentally and physically, but it really was unfair how he still managed to look so attractive all throughout.

Leg cast and all included.

“Is that what the doctor said?” you asked, finally gaining the courage to speak as you crossed the room. You carefully sat on the couch next to him, not wanting to jostle his leg.

The Russian dropped his phone on his lap, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes before gazing at you with determination. ��Yes. But I’m going to be better in five.”

You finally cracked a smile, there’s the ‘Drei you knew and loved, your first one since hearing the news and bringing him back to his house. Andrei couldn’t help but grin, feeling the fondness for you in his heart grow. You were so good to him, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his feelings to himself while you stayed with him.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t mind having you stay with him for the rest of the year, though. Andrei was selfish, and he was also possessive, so he liked having you to himself. He considered Martin and Seth and Sebastian his good friends, his teammates, his bros if you will, but you were his. His best friend, his best girl—you were the only one he wanted, and maybe this new living situation would give him the opportunity to finally tell you.

Andrei just hoped you felt the same. He wouldn’t be able to stand losing you because he couldn’t keep his heart under control.

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help you get through it.” You stated with conviction, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze and your heart beating all the while.

You held your unspoken promise, especially on the day of his surgery a little less than a week after his prognosis. It was an early surgery on a Thursday morning, and you even called off work so you could be at the hospital with him when he woke up.

You already knew most of your friends and family were wondering why you were putting so much effort into caring for someone who was just a friend, and if you were being honest you didn’t have much of an answer to give them. They had a point after all, right?

You and Andrei were just friends. That was it. You may be in love with him (now more than ever), and you definitely omitted that little detail during past conversations, but still. Friends move in with each other to help recover from big injuries all the time.

This time with Andrei was no different, and you had to repeat this mantra over and over again in your head as the anesthesia slowly wore off and his eyes were so soft and droopy, mumbling his words and his accent was thicker than ever and your heart was beating so fast it was going to jump out of your chest–

“Thank you for being here with me,” Andrei slurred, gazing up at you with those warm, half-lidded eyes.

You grabbed his hand, gently, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Andrei squeezed back once before losing consciousness, his eyes closing and his head lolling back against the pillow. “That’s normal, right?” You asked the nurse, who was busy writing on a clipboard. She only had to look up once to take in the situation before responding.

“Everyone responds to anesthesia differently. Your boyfriend is just one of many who has to sleep it off.”

You felt your stomach drop, your eyes widening only slightly at the nurse’s casual use of ‘boyfriend’. Of course, that’s what you and your best friend must have looked like to her, right? You, holding Andrei’s hand, and he gazing up at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

It was probably just the drugs in his system. Definitely.

Andrei was cleared to leave the hospital the next day, and you heard the news from the group chat you, Martin, and Seth were in. It was comically titled, ‘Andrei’s bobble-leg’, courtesy of Seth, of course, and it was essentially just the three of you coordinating who has Andrei duty on the days you weren’t able to be with him.

Unfortunately, the day he was able to go home was the day you had to be back at work, so Martin and Seth left their morning skate early to drive him home. And so, here you were now, finally off from work and driving down Capital Blvd road to Andrei’s home.

Martin, Seth, and surprisingly quite a few of the players were already there when you arrived. You knocked on the front door before letting yourself in, curiosity written all over your face as you walked closer to all the noise.

Happy shouts of your name rang across the room when you appeared in the doorway, and your face flushed red in embarrassment at all the eyes suddenly upon you. “Hey guys,” you said, eyes scanning around the room looking for the only man you really cared about.

Finally, you found him. Andrei was seated on his couch, leg safely propped up on the ottoman and wrapped in tight bandages and a brace. He had an Xbox controller in his hand, the video game he was previously playing on pause.

“How was work?” Sebastian asked from the right of Andrei, also holding a controller. There were several bags of chips laid out across the ottoman, and both men were currently snacking.

It was probably against their diet, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell them that, especially Andrei.

“Work,” you finally responded, rather dry. Most of the population, including you, unfortunately, were not lucky enough to play the sport they loved as their job.

A few chuckles and about an hour later, everyone began packing up to leave. Somehow, you had gravitated toward Andrei during this time of catching up with his teammates and ended up on the couch next to him, on his left. His arm was casually strewn across the back of the couch, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair and occasionally brushing against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

You liked to pretend it was just you harboring feelings for him sometimes because it was less scary, but every day that fantasy was getting harder and harder to live… Especially when you would turn your head to catch a peek at his side profile, and he was already staring as if knowing the effect he had on you.

“How’s your leg feeling?” You asked once you heard the front door shut, signaling the exit of the last guest. It was silent other than the TV playing softly in the background, it having changed from Call of Duty to a rerun of Friends some time ago.

Andrei sighed, attempting to hide his emotional turmoil with a smile. Bringing his arm down from the back of the couch, he tentatively rested it on your shoulders, gauging your reaction before bringing you to his side. He’s been an affectionate person since you first met him, so you were used to the random hand-holding or hugs, but it still never failed to make you long for something more.

He patted his leg gently, careful not to disturb it from where it rested. “Hurts. But that is to be expected, no?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t suck.” You said, your voice nothing more than a murmur. You rested your head against his shoulder, tugging at a loose string on one of your sleeves.

The hockey player didn’t respond, instead, he placed one of his big hands on your shoulder and squeezed, a sign he at least heard your attempt at reassurance. Time passed quickly like this; Friends continued playing, as did your position tucked into Andrei’s side.

You felt at peace, and while he didn’t say it with words you could tell the Russian beside you felt the same. Hopefully, the next few months of healing will just fly by.

And they did, at first. But even though the Carolina Hurricanes were missing one of their star players, the games must go on. His teammates went out on the ice, each and every one of them feeling Andrei’s absence keenly.

You felt it too, as the Boston Bruins scored their fourth and final goal of the night, winning the game in a shootout. The hope immediately dissipated within your chest and in rose frustration and disappointment to take its place, but you were sure that was nothing compared to what Andrei was feeling beside you.

The entirety of the game, your hand was wrapped in Andrei’s, his squeezing down when the Bruins scored their first goals in regulation and releasing to clap when we were finally able to tip the puck in. Then the team came back in the third period—you weren’t sure what Brind’Amour had said to the boys during the second intermission, but whatever he said had worked.

The Hurricanes had been controlling the puck in the Bruins’ zone, something they had failed to do in the first two periods. They were passing, aiming, shooting, scoring, first by Skjei in the corner of the net and then by Aho on a tight pass from Martinook that slipped right past Swayman’s shoulder.

It was looking so good because Andersen had finally gotten his head in the game and the defense had stepped up, but then we went past overtime scoreless, and then to the fateful shootout.

You had felt the anxiousness from every fan in the arena. If anyone was an avid Hurricanes watcher, including you, they knew shootouts had never been this hockey team’s strong suit.

Andrei’s frustration was palpable next to you. His left leg was bouncing up and down for the entirety, and you could see the muscles tensing and untensing in his right leg as if he had wanted to move. It only got worse when Brind’Amour sent Burns out first, something that had you, Andrei, and every single Hurricanes fan in the arena watching on in confusion.

“No, no,” you had heard the Russian mutter from next to you. “Why is he sending Brent? He needs to send Fishy, or Turbo—” the words then died in his mouth as Brent missed as everyone knew would happen, and sadly Teuvo, who went out next, did too.

Unfortunately for us, the Bruins had good goal-scorers. Coyle had slipped the puck past Andersen, as did DeBrusk, and then it was done. Game over. Just like that.

You finally turned to face the man next to you just as his head fell into his hands, tugging at his hair and messing up the gel you forced him to put on because no, Andrei, you can’t show up with bedhead. He was muttering words you couldn’t understand, most likely the creative Russian curses you heard him say on occasion.

If this game had been hard to watch for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Andrei was feeling.

“‘Drei,” you said, tentatively. “Are you—”

“No. Don’t.” He snapped, rubbing at his eyes before unsteadily rising to stand. His right leg shook, but he refused the arm you held out and didn’t dare to look in your eyes to see what look they held. As he tried to reach for his crutches, his leg buckled from underneath him, and this time you ignored the hurt of him lashing out to put your arms around his back to steady him.

“Can we— Is it okay if…” he struggled to speak, his accent thick with emotion as he struggled to find the words. Andrei had never been good at communicating when upset, literally, because everything always came to him in Russian naturally, and this time was no different. “Leave? Can we leave?”

“What about—”

“No. No team. No reporters.” he said, digging his fingers into the back of his jersey you were wearing.

You softened, gently maneuvering your body so you could face him better. Now you were chest-to-chest, your arms still wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady. “What do you want then, Andrei?”

“Home,” he murmured. “Home. With you.” he wasn’t able to convey it right at this moment, but his heart was pounding as he said the words. To him, to anyone in his culture, this was the closest he could come to expressing his love without outright saying it.

He found he wasn’t scared about finally admitting this out loud, either, because you were his home. Everything about you was home because he wouldn’t dare let anyone else except his brother and mama see him so vulnerable.

Of course, you were oblivious. He normally found it cute, but right now he wanted to shake you because all he wanted right now was to hold you in his arms and kiss you as he found comfort in your presence.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, the double meaning of his words flying right over your head. But something emboldened you, gave you the courage to raise your hands to his shoulders so you could reach up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right next to the corner of his lips.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

The ride home was silent, comforting even despite the rough loss the team took. By the time you finally managed to get to the car, the two of you were struggling to keep your eyes open and also keep your hands off each other. Andrei tangling your hands together, you gently leaning against his side…

It was all surface-level, neither wanting to speak the words out loud but yet not wanting to sacrifice the innocent, physical intimacy you found with each other. This was all racing through your mind the closer you got to Andrei’s house, and you were almost positive he was thinking the same.

Andrei, in fact, was actually contemplating the one-hundred different ways he was going to kiss you, if he ever gets to that stage with you. He was currently facing the window but left enough room at the corner of his eyes to take little peeks at you, only fuelling his determination to do something about the tension between you.

And, yeah, maybe he was hyperfixating on you to distract him from the fact his team lost and if he was down on the ice he knew he would have been able to fix it, been able to score. His emotions had skyrocketed since the game ended, and everything felt so much more intense than usual.

Maybe that was just the pain medication he was on, though…

After you finally arrived at Andrei’s house, it took a little bit over an hour to finally get yourselves ready for bed. The problem? Neither of you were ready for any sort of sleeping, and you both knew it.

Currently, Andrei was leaning back into the couch, his right leg once again propped up on the ottoman and a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lap. You were next to him, legs comfortably tucked underneath you with a few inches of space left between you and Andrei.

There was half a family-sized bag of Doritos in between you that he said was in his pantry, so you were both currently snacking on them while watching the NHL channel. It was quiet other than for the TV, for neither of you were speaking a word for fear of breaking the thick silence between you.

The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and what made it even worse is that you didn’t think Andrei even noticed. He was wrapped up in his phone, most likely watching the game recap because his face was twisted up and his whole body seemed tense.

You shoved another Dorito in your mouth. Fuck. You were so, so screwed. You needed to get it together before you said something you regretted, especially since you had temporarily become his roommate.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke. “Andrei?” you said, hesitantly looking towards him.

“What?” he responded after a moment, not taking his eyes away from his phone.

Now you felt uncomfortable. Before, in the arena, he was looking at you like he loved you, but now he was snappy and tense and worse than normal because his team lost without him being able to play.

Picking at the skin around your nails, you attempted scooting down the couch before just giving up and moving to stand. “Nevermind,” you said with a mutter, feeling withdrawn and defeated. If he didn’t want to open up to you, fine, but you didn’t deserve to have him take out his frustration on you.

At least, not like this.

Andrei didn’t even respond, furthering your feelings of bitterness towards the man you had so many feelings for. Wrapping your hands in the long sleeves of his hoodie you were still wearing, you shuffled down the hallway and into the guest room you claimed as your own.

You could still hear the TV playing in the background, but that was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. You blinked the frustration from your eyes and crawled underneath the bed sheets, scrolling on your phone until you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed of restless tossing and turning, and then suddenly it was three in the morning and you were being woken up by countless knocks on your door.

“The fuck?” you muttered sleepily, crawling out of the cocoon of blankets you were in to answer your door. For whatever reason, your sleep-addled brain wasn’t able to comprehend that it was probably Andrei on the other side. “Andrei?” you said, confused as the Russian leaned against the wall.

He looked rather sheepish, slightly embarrassed. His hair was ruffled, and the TV was still playing so he probably fell asleep on the couch.

“Oh, shit,” you said, suddenly realizing that he was probably here because he needed help. Of course. That was all it was. “I’m such an idiot, sorry,” you breathed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stepped out of the room. “C’mon, I’ll help you get in bed.”

Andrei stopped you with a hand, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find words. “No, that is not it.” he finally settled on.

Okay, now you were curious. “Huh?”

“I am sorry.”

What?

“For what?” You asked, staring up at him wide-eyed. You were honestly too tired for a heavy conversation like this so you were struggling to keep up.

Andrei swallowed the lump in his throat. His leg was currently throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his heart as he looked at you. Your hair was all over the place in the most endearing way, and your eyes were droopy in a way that told him you were just sleeping.

“For not treating you right, for—” He cut himself off, sighing in frustration. Why was English so complicated? If only you understood English. “English is stupid.” he muttered, then released a big sigh and steeled his resolve.

Stepping closer, he brought the two of you chest-to-chest and brought his arms to cage you against the wall.

And you, you meanwhile, let out the most embarrassing noise possible when he suddenly got close, and then Andrei was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His body was trapping you in, and while your senses were on overdrive you strangely enough didn't feel like fleeing.

“Andrei?” You squeaked, sinking further into the wall if it was possible. Your eyes dropped, finding the center of his chest to firmly set your gaze. His eyes were so dark, intimidating, and swimming with an intention you were nervous to find out. “What are you doing?”

“Look at me, please?” A large hand smoothed against your skin, gently tilting your head up. Your eyes automatically locked with his, and the emotion on his face had you gasping. “There’s my girl,” He said.

Okay, yeah, your body was frozen, the breath leaving your lungs in a torrent of sharp breaths. This… This was new territory, for the both of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Andrei looked so calm while you looked like a startled deer—an unattractive one, at that.

He started speaking, heart thundering while the words poured from his throat like warm, melted butter. “I’m in love with you. You are my person, I knew from the very first moment I saw you in that bar so many months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but tonight, having you next to me… You’ve always been next to me, and I’ve taken advantage of that. Darling, I want to make up for all the times I never kissed you senseless, and I want nothing more than to have you as mine, and I yours.”

Your favorite music, your favorite voice, words so filled with emotion and yet you couldn’t even understand him as he looked at you like you were his sun, and he a plant desperately seeking your warmth. Andrei had only spoken in Russian a handful of times in front of you – most being curses or quips exchanged with Pyotr – and never had he spoken so much of it.

You’d always thought Russian was rather harsh. The sharp whistles, clicks of the tongue, hissing of certain words; you admired anyone who could speak it, but it had never been an easy language to listen to you. But, when Andrei spoke Russian… It was soft, almost musical, and expressive to the point you felt like you could understand the very subject at hand if you thought about it. Maybe you were just biased, but you swore you fell more in love with him every time he spoke it.

“No words?” he said, a grin on his face that made you realize you’d maybe been silent for a little too long.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You were breathless— literally.

“I show you, then, what I said,” Andrei brushed his fingers against the side of your neck, almost fully grasping it as he gently brought you closer. You had no complaints, though. “Yes?”

He said your name again, looking at you with those warm eyes so full of depth they hypnotized you and had you nodding yes, almost instinctively.

Andrei sucked in a breath, tightening his grip on you only slightly as he slid his hand around the back of your head. Your lips were slightly parted, shiny and red from where you’d been biting them previously, and that cupid’s bow that always drove him crazy when you smiled was quirked upwards as if it was asking him to kiss you.

He waited a moment, stared into your eyes, his fingers merely a whisper of a touch against your cheek, and finally took the leap. The first touch of his lips was shy, testing, but then you whimpered with need and tugged at his shirt to bring him closer and Andrei had an internal moment of fuck it where he realized just how crazy he was for you. Pressing you into the wall, he nipped at your bottom lip and was granted entrance with a gasp drowned out by the sound of his own groan. He put every ounce of his passion and love and relief into this kiss as if trying to convince you to stay because this, this here? It was worth it—you were worth it. Fireworks, electricity, butterflies, and everything all at once was igniting in your gut and caused you to let out a pathetic whimper the moment your lips finally detached. He was clearly skilled at this, wholeheartedly controlling the moment as his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin that met your collarbone.

“‘Drei,” you gasped, clutching the hair right at his scalp – when did you move your arms around his neck? – as he sucked a mark under your jaw. “Hm?” he hummed, not stopping with his ministrations.

“What,” you said, throat dry and raspy as you tried to speak over the sound of your beating heart. “What did you say— oh,”

Andrei’s grin was almost feral as he drew the beautiful sound from your lips. “Found it,” he said, voice full of pride as he brushed his fingers against the newly-found sweet spot on your neck.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his head in between your hands, bringing his head to yours so you could press a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips before pulling back to gather your thoughts because you had a lot of them.

Andrei pouted the moment you pulled him away but respected your boundaries and merely rested his hands on your waist to keep you close. He said your name gently, his tone bordering on questioning. “Did I… Did I push too far?” he said.

“No, no, not at all,” you rushed to correct him, already having caught the guilt in his eyes. “I just want to know what you said earlier, before you— you know.” It felt almost taboo to say ‘before you kissed the life out of me’, not wanting to break this delicate balance you found yourself in.

The Russian hummed, already catching on to your bashfulness and deciding to tease you for it. “No, darling, I think you need to remind me,” he brought a hand up to loosely wrap around your neck, the contact keeping you grounded. “On what I did before what?”

“Andrei,” you said, immediately dropping eye contact as your face flushed red. “You’re being a tease,” you muttered.

He dipped his head, brushing your lips together as he spoke. You felt his breath against your skin and had the sudden desire to taste him again. “I can do this all night, but the question is can you?”

You gave up at that because the moment he spoke he drew back and you couldn’t stand the feeling of not having him close to you anymore. “Andrei,” you sucked in a breath. “What did you say before you kissed me? In Russian?”

“I love you,” Andrei didn’t miss a beat as he crept his other hand farther up your waist. “That is mostly what I said. And more.”

“More?” you squeaked out as he drew closer.

The hockey player hummed, then suddenly stepped back and grabbed your hand. “Much more,” he confirmed. “Now—bed?” Short, sweet, and to the point Andrei always was…

Just one of the many things you loved about him.

Twenty minutes later you lay in Andrei’s bed, swallowed in another one of his shirts, and curled into his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, stroking gentle circles into the skin exposed to the room. It was silent, null except for the steady hum of the air conditioning and the gentle breathing of two humans reveling in each other’s presence.

“I miss it,” he said, suddenly speaking up. You lifted your head only slightly from his chest, already missing the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. “Hockey. And I miss playing with my brothers.”

Brothers. Your heart broke at hearing the longing in his voice, because every single player on the team he played with was his family, in one way or another, and now he was being forced to watch them play the sport he had no chance of helping them win.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling.

“I know, Andrei,” was what you finally settled on. Your voice was soft, gentle, trying to convey your understanding with actions rather than words. You drew tiny circles on his chest, taking pride in the way goosebumps rose in your fingers’ wake. “I know.”

He tightened his grip on you, holding you closer to him as if he were afraid you’d disappear. “Will you be here?” he suddenly asked, frowning. Andrei knew he was being slightly irrational, feeling so vulnerable, but he really hadn’t felt secure in himself since first tearing his ACL.

What was his purpose in life, really, if not to play hockey and have you with him?

You hadn’t yet spoken, so he quickly clarified. “In the morning. And all the mornings after.”

A smile broke across your face as you buried your head into his chest. You felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, and then he shifted to where you were laying on top of his chest so he could see your face. “All the mornings, huh?” you asked, feeling bashful.

Andrei grinned, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth, knowing the effect he had on you. “Every one,” he replied. “If you will have me.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

And you meant it, truly, with every fiber of your being. The next months were going to be rough, the ones where you’d have to be there for Andrei as he watched his team ultimately compete and fall through in the playoffs especially.

But you knew the two of you could do it. Andrei was nothing if not committed, even through all the arguments, tears, and emotional breakdowns, you were there for each other through the long haul.

And Andrei, meanwhile, after many difficult months down the road, had the biggest smile on his face as the doctors told him it was a miracle.

Because he had healed from his ACL injury in five.

fin

A/N: Before my medical professionals come at me, YES I KNOW acl injuries take up to a year to recover from almost all of the time, but for the sake of this fic just pls ignore that little fact 😭 in all seriousness though, I can’t wait till our favorite Russian gets to play again bc I miss him sm. As always, please leave likes, reblogs, and comments. Ily all <33

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tallulah477 · 1 year ago

Text

Private Show

Kinktober Day 8: Voyeurism

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Voyeurism, Perv!Lo’ak, Lo’ak gets caught being a Peeping Tom, Masterbation, Obsessive behavior, Reader unknowingly gives Lo’ak a strip tease/dance and a show

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Lo’ak likes to watch you through your window at night and he gets a little too naughty.

Part Two >>>

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Tewgn - Loincloth

You’re so fucking pretty.

The most beautiful girl Lo’ak has ever seen.

He can’t help the way he acts around you. Can’t help the way his eyes follow your every step as you walk through the village, helping his grandmother crush herbs or doing inventory for the scientists back at the lab. Can’t help the way his heart pounds at the sound of your voice or the way he stutters anytime you try to talk to him, even if it's just flashing him a bright smile or a friendly greeting.

His body feels like it's on fire just from your mere presence, like he’ll shatter into a thousand little pieces if you ever actually touched him. He wants you to touch him. Wants to explode under your touch. Wants to feel your hands everywhere - your tiny hands stroking down his arms, caressing his muscles, and sliding over his bare chest. Wants to feel them go lower, sliding over his stomach, and lower . . . oh, Eywa, he would give anything to feel your tiny, adorable hands go lower.

But he never gets the chance to talk to you. Okay, that’s not entirely true. He’s had a few opportunities to talk to you, but the nervousness gets the better of him every time, and with just one smile from your perfect lips, his throat closes up and his heart pounds so hard he thinks he might be having a heart attack.

But he can’t leave you alone. He needs to see you, be near you.

So at night, when his entire family has gone to sleep, he sneaks out and heads to the human outpost to watch you through your window. He knows it’s wrong, knows it's an invasion of your privacy. He doesn’t mean to be a creep, but . . . it’s not like he’s actively choosing to spy on you. He can’t help it. He thinks he would die without being able to see you, to be in your presence, whether you know he’s there or not. It’s a need, not a want. So can you really blame him for something he can’t control?

That’s what he likes to tell himself anyway.

He’s come to learn that after the eclipse is your favorite time. It’s when you can really let your hair down, both literally and figuratively. Each day is filled with people for the both of you. People to ask questions, people that need your attention - a never ending sea everywhere you look no matter if you're at the village or the lab. Time is constantly moving, from one task, to the next, to the next.

But in the quiet of the night, after everyone’s retired to their rooms, you find your peace and space to just be. All alone, able to do what you want, when you want, without having to worry about anyone watching you.

Except Lo’ak that is, but you don’t need to know that.

So, he crouches by your window, large hand steady on the frame as he leans in close. He doesn’t have to worry about you seeing him. Its pitch dark outside and the bright fluorescent light from your room makes a glare along the glass, so even if you did look out your window, all you would see is your reflection.

And what a gorgeous reflection it is.

You're naked from the waist up, round breasts, so much larger and more supple than any Na’vi woman’s, rising slightly as your arms reach above your head in a stretch. Your hands fall to the top of your head, caressing your hair and sliding down the column of your neck, over your collarbones and between the valley of your breasts.

Lo’ak’s breathing deepens, stomach tightening as your hips start to sway. He can just make out the faint sound of music coming from inside your room, something slow and sensual, and he watches as your hips match the beat, hypnotized.

He loves you like this - at peace and confident and completely feeling yourself. You move with such grace, and there’s no rhyme or reason to your movements. You’re just feeling the music, letting it guide you, move through you, and you let your body tell you what to do. How to step, how to sway, how to twist - and Lo’ak can’t help but dial into your energy, wanting to be closer, wishing he could hear the music better, wishing he could be there in front of you, holding you close and swaying with you.

His mouth goes dry as your hands drop to your shorts. You undo the button and zip, hooking your thumbs into the waistband. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. You’ve unknowingly given him plenty of private shows, but it doesn’t stop his heart from pounding or keep his cock from instantly getting hard.

You don’t stop your dancing as your shorts and panties fall to the ground. You giggle as you twirl out of them, stepping out from the discarded heap and running your fingers through your hair as you dance towards your bed, newly revealed ass jiggling with each movement. He’s disappointed he can’t hear your giggle through the window, but his own lips curl into a small smile at the sight of yours.

You collapse on your bed, flipping over onto your back and stretching out on the sheets like a cat. You stay like that for a few moments, hands lazily petting the soft sheets, and Lo’ak waits with bated breath for your next move - and he prays to Eywa that you're about to do what he thinks you're about to do.

As if answering his prayers, your hands return to your body. Your eyes close, long lashes brushing against your cheeks as your fingertips caress your tummy. They brush against your skin, traveling lower and lower, until they're just inches away from your core. Lo’ak stuffles in his spot, grip on the window frame tightening in anticipation as your fingers get closer to where he longs to see them touch.

Your fingers pull away briefly as you pop your middle finger in your mouth. Lo’ak groans quietly, palming himself to get some relief from his painful hard on, as he watches you suck on your finger. He can only imagine how it would feel to have your pretty lips wrapped around his own. It would be so wet and warm inside, so hot as you sucked on him, tongue dragging against the underside as you made it wet for him. His fingers are significantly longer than yours. They would surely reach the back of your throat if he got it all the way into the knuckle, and his face burns hot at the thought.

When you pull it out of your mouth, it glistens in the light, wet and practically dripping. It’s only then that your thighs spread, revealing the sight of all of Lo’ak’s fantasies. Your head tilts back as your wet finger slips inside your folds and brushes against your clit. You circle it gently, spreading your thighs more to give yourself better access, before your fingers slide down the pretty pink slit and dips inside your waiting hole. He pants at the sight, images of your dripping entrance stretching around his thick cock playing in his mind as you push your fingers deeper. You’d be so tight, little tawtute body struggling to accommodate his size. But it would fit. It would have to - you were made for him, he just knows it. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and Lo’ak knows it’s not really silent, that you probably just let out the world’s most beautiful sound, but he can’t hear it - and that’s just so damn unfair.

But he can have this. This moment, just you and him. And he palms his throbbing erection again, feeling the wet spot forming on the front of the material, before moving to undo the string of his tewng. He struggles with the knot, hands shaking with desire and he hates that he has to look away from you for even a second just to get the damn thing off, before finally getting the strap undone and letting it fall to the ground.

He spits into his palm and wraps his hand around his cock. When he looks back at you, he’s just able to hold off a loud groan. You have your head thrown back against the mattress, hair splayed out on the sheets and your lashes flutter against your cheeks as your fingers work faster inside of you. He can see how your pretty pussy shines between your thighs, so wet and pink, and he wants nothing else than to bury his head between them.

He strokes his cock, nice and slow, teasing himself as the image builds in his head. He’d be so good for you. Your devoted servant dedicated to giving you the best head you’ve ever received in your life. You’d taste so good down there, like the sweetest fruit, like a healing nectar gifted to him directly by Eywa.

And he would devour you.

He wants to lick up your tiny cunt with his big tongue, again and again, until you're panting with need and clutching his braids in your hands. Wants to lavish your clit with so much attention that you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, the same way you overwhelm him every single day you continue to exist in his presence. He wants to hold your thighs open as you try to squirm away from his relentless tongue, pleading with him to show you mercy (“Please, Lo’ak! Oh Eywa! S’too much. C-Can’t cum anymore,”). He wants you gasping and moaning for him, wants your thighs to wrap around his head as you cum, so tight that he feels like he might suffocate. Even then he wouldn’t stop. What a way to go - the Great Mother would be blessing him to grant him such a beautiful death.

His grip on his cock tightens as he strokes faster, the length rock hard and hot in his grip. His wrist twists at the top and sends a harsh shiver down his spine and more precum leaks out from the tip. “F-fuck,”

Your pussy would grip him like a vice when he would finally slide inside you. He can see how your walls already clamp down on your own fingers and his stomach tightens at the thought of them clamping down on him instead. His fingers, his cock - both already so much larger than your own or anything you’ve ever felt. Your gorgeous cunt would swallow him whole. And the sounds, the sounds it would make as he thrust into you, would ring in his ears forever. The lewd, horrible, amazing sounds your soaked pussy would make as it squelches and pulses around him. The sounds it's probably making right now as you thrust your fingers faster, palm dragging against your clit with each movement.

He knows you're cumming the second your face starts to twitch and he gets as close as he can to the window to see you better, his face practically touching the glass. Your face scrunches up, mouth falling open as your back arches, and the sight is so perfect and he’s so close. So, so close as he tugs at his cock frantically, wanting to cum too, wanting to cum with you. Together.

And he’s there, he’s gonna cum and . . .

Snap!

He whirls around at the sound of a branch snapping in the distance makes him jump.

His shoulder accidentally hits the window frame in his shock and he crouches low, hoping the darkness will cover his position from whoever is close. At the edge of the forest, two Avatar drivers are just coming back from an outing. They’re later than usual - the People are not the only ones who use eclipse as a curfew, but it's not unusual for a few to stay out longer than anticipated. They’re joking with each other, laughing and shoving each other as they make their way towards the Avatar holding area and, thankfully, they never even look Lo’ak’s way.

When they’re out of sight and Lo’ak can’t hear them anymore, he stands back up, relieved to have not been caught, and turns back to look through the window.

In an instant, his heart stops. Your light is off, the room flooded with darkness, and now instead of the beautiful and protective reflection you would see if you looked out the window - now, you can see out. And you are - staring directly at Lo’ak, shocked eyes meeting his wide amber ones as he stares back at you in horror.

Your lips mouth his name, the question written clearly on your face, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He runs.

Part Two >>>

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

#lunaskinktober2023 #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x human reader #lo'ak x female reader #taliewrites

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caitchercatlady · 2 months ago

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Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Jade & Floyd

*I'm so sorry that I posted this so late. I've been dealing with some life stuff these past few weeks, and that's given me a hard time with writing this story. I hope you guys enjoy it now that I've managed to post it in time.

Image credit @mostroloungeofficial

The last time Jade and Floyd came to Ramshackle, they nearly trashed the place for Azul’s new venture. Now that the dorm is safe in your possession, it's much more relaxing without the tweels messing up everything. They're practically banned from staying for more than two minutes (although that within itself is generous of you).

One Friday, you encounter Azul and the tweels in the hallway. Azul asks for a huge favor from you. He explains that he’s making some renovations for the Monstro Lounge over the weekend, and the Leech brothers would greatly appreciate it if they can stay over at Ramshackle until the renovations are complete. You point out that the Lounge and the dorms are entirely unrelated, so why do the tweels need to stay with you?

Azul pulls you aside and tells you a story about the last time he let Floyd and Jade Leech be in charge of Monsto Lounge work. “It cost more than the budget, and I want to keep my profits in the black. Do you catch my drift, Prefect?” Between the two of you, Azul is indeed the business professional. He sees your scrunching face of hesitation when Azul offers up a deal you couldn’t refuse. “If you do this favor for me, I assure you that every and any mess that comes from those two shall be cleaned and reimbursed.”

“How can I know that you’ll keep that promise?” you ask.

“Oh, (Y/N), you break my heart. You still don’t trust me?”

You give him the death glance.

Azul snaps up a contract in mid air and lets you read every detail to make sure that he wasn’t going to pull the rug under you later.

The evening falls onto Night Raven, and as you finish preparing two guest rooms (unsure if even the boys wanna share a room), you get the expected knock at the door. You don’t expect anything normal to come from these twins, and you’re scared to find out what they’re up to.

Jade thanks you for opening your dorm to them in their time of need. Floyd also thanks you, but as chill as he is, Floyd is the first to make himself comfortable by going into your kitchen to see what you got to eat. This puts Grim into protective mode over his tuna cans (not that Floyd wants canned tuna anyway). This doesn’t become a bigger problem as Jade reminds Floyd to be respectful while they are guests.

“You have to ask permission before you go scavenging like a catfish in someone’s fridge,” Jade explains without an inch of scolding in his tone.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, Shrimpy. May I scavenge through your fridge?” replies the other brother.

You clarify that you actually have ordered some delivery for dinner, so the tweels can indulge in whatever is on the kitchen counter.

“See, Floyd? When you are patient, you get rewarded,” says Jade with an all-too-pleasant grin.

The tweels thank you as they treat themselves to your offerings. You help Grim crack open a tuna can as they eat, and you can see that Floyd is still moody.

“Aye, Jade. You know what would perk up this dower, old place?”

Jade taps his chin. “Perhaps a bit of music? What do you think, (Y/N)? Would you mind some music?”

You guess that music wouldn’t be a problem, but you soon remember that you don’t know what music the Leech twins have in mind. However, it’s too late to go back on your word because the moment Floyd activates his smartphone, the biggest blast of orchestral jazz explodes from the speaker.

Grim nearly falls off the kitchen counter. You grasp your heart, telling yourself not to have a heart attack in the center of Ramshackle dorm since you and Grim know that the floors aren’t going to rescue you as you fall. The twins are dancing with each other in the living room as if it’s the happiest of times. Maybe that’s a good thing as they have no ill will against Azul. Floyd’s mood is improved by the proof of his loud scat singing. Not even Kalim parties this much at Ramshackle.

“(Y/N), don’t be such a wallflower,” Floyd coxes. “Dance the stiff away!”

Jade stretches his arm, takes you by the hand, and pulls you into the small yet blaring celebration of…Seven knows what.

Grim goes running up the stairs, shouting, “If you need me, I’m gonna protect my ears!” along the way.

Despite your mind spinning, letting yourself loose isn’t such a terrible thing after all. In fact, sharing your dance time with both casually dressed tweels increases the fun. All three of you don’t even make it upstairs for the rest of the night.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney #anime #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #stories #twst disney #jade leech #floyd leech #twst floyd #twst jade #octavinelle #tweels #leech twins #birthday series #birthday jade #birthday floyd

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cerastes · 10 months ago

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I was thinking about the "FUNNIEST VTUBER CLIP -> Sex" post (that OP deleted and that I hope it wasn't due to harassment) and I think a sizeable amount of people that dislike Vtubers don't actually dislike Vtubers, they dislike Vtuber fans.

Now, quick preface: I used to watch Vtubers, I don't anymore, but I don't dislike them or shit on them, I just moved onto other things, plus I don't like certain aspects of it as a culture on the corporate side. One of the biggest things I dislike, though, are the fans. I sincerely have never before wanted to not be perceived as something as much as I have with being a fan of Vtubers, not because Vtubers are cringe, but because being associated with Vtuber fans would legit lead to an ego death for me.

I obviously mean the ones that are the most infamous with that statement, if it wasn't obvious enough: The ones that seem to try and grasp at every chance to aggrandize, or, say, idolize Vtubers. You know the ones I'm talking about, the people that say "wow, normies fucking suck, they see Markiplier making weird noises and lose their shit, I don't get it" and 5 minutes later are laughing their lungs out at Amelia Watson making weird noises, the ones that'll see the Vtubers do something in a game and claims she's a Goddess Of The Game, The Best Player Alive At It, the ones that'll endlessly circulate clips of the Vtubers "using their real voice by accident" or "FUNNIEST VTUBER CLIP" (she said something sexual or burped) or "[Vtuber] is a FREAK?" (she said 'feet' or 'vore' or otherwise mentioned any other widespread milquetoast fetish), the ones that'll absolutely die on the hill of going to bat for the Vtuber or Vtuber corp they like (especially Hololive, Hololive shills are lab-grown weirdos with burnt out brains that you'd think are constantly in MK Ultra activation mode except just to defend Hololive at any cost and by any means).

This isn't every Vtuber fan, obviously, but this is what is known as the Vtuber Fan. This is what a lot of people think of when they think of "Vtuber Fans". And seriously, I find it hard to blame the talent -- in the majority of cases, because there's plenty of Vtubers that really lean on the so called "GFE", or "Girlfriend Experience", or "Really Fucking Vile Parasocial Shit", these ones can legit go explode and I support not giving them a platform -- because, see, streams are hours long endeavors for most streamers, and Vtubers definitely are expected to stream at least some good amount of hours per session. The majority of cases, these Vtubers are just making some jokes or commentary that may make reference to sex or involve more raunchy topics, which is completely normal for the average streamer, even non-Vtubers, but then Clippers (or Clip Channels), as they are known, clip only those parts, so for outsiders, Catgirl McTuber is known exclusively for making references to feet, piss, and saying the word sex a couple of times per clip, when the reality of the matter is, Catgirl McTuber only brings those up maybe twice or thrice every couple of streams. There are definitely Vtubers that leverage this, mind you, the whole "ehehehe if I say nipple and feet and imply being into this one obscure fetish, I'll get a shitload of views on my clips, which translates to new followers" so, almost as if on schedule like old Moistcritikal videos, suddenly they will unleash "uhhh yeah chat that health potion I just drank, it's so red and colorful, it looks delicious... Delicious like feet! Like a giantess' feet!" followed by a silence where chat goes "HUH?????" and they know that's going to be their clip, but again, that's not all of them, and some are really misrepresented. In a way, it's largely Clippers' fault that Vtubing in general is so often seen almost necessarily as this Thing For Perverts: Yeah, those clips get traction, from both enjoyers and detractors, and with those delicious views rolling in that aggressively, of course they'll replicate the formula more and more.

This, in turn, feeds into the usual view of the Vtuber Fan: It's easy for anyone not interested, not even hateful of the culture/craft, just uninterested, to view it as "Oh, vtubers? Those super perverts that only ultrafreaks like? Hmm yeah not really, no, I don't watch any of them".

And, again, the need, the compulsion, to aggrandize: "WOAH Pink Vtuber just dropped a new song! It's THE BEST!" maybe it's not bad, really, but it's definitely mid at best, and seeing people really push it as this breakthrough of music so aggressively because they jack it to the Vtuber's model, well, it doesn't sit well with Actual Music Fans of the genre. "WOW Dog Vtuber is FERAL!" she's literally doing much of what Markiplier-type streamers did and do, but she's got a cute anime model and is Female, so fans will go rabid, and other people will eventually find this behavior annoying out of principle.

See, these things I mentioned... Do they warrant hatred? Not really. A streamer can release a track and it can be mid and that's fine. A streamer can make noises and say "unhinged" things and that's fine. Streaming is about doing something you enjoy as much as it is entertaining a crowd, in my opinion. Going about it the way you want to go about it is always the right answer. But then you have these incredibly aggressively parasocially invested fans that make the visible, perceptible bulk of what a Vtuber Fan is, and that's when public opinion, well, it goes to shit, because it's not longer just "a streamer with an anime rig just chilling and doing their thing", it becomes "a streamer with an anime rig doing anything at all and this army of people with usernames like lolifeet9000 proudly proclaiming they are, in fact, the funniest feralest greatest internet supersensation alive, even though all she said was 'armpit' this one time in a 7 hour stream".

Mind you, there's plenty of legitimate gripes to have with Vtubing -- to name a few, the obvious clip fishing is annoying and especially the parasocial angle being intentionally leveraged sits VERY badly with me -- but these things are not universal, not all Vtubers are doing these bad things. I think Vtubers get a lot of unwarranted hate because they have the worst most annoying fans possible, and I would rather people make the distinction more often, if they hate Vtubers or Vtuber Fans (tm), because I think it's not fair to the streamers and I think you hate the Fans, actually, for very good reasons.

#vtubers #thoughts about the topic in general

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 11 months ago

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Valentine's Series #4: Warm Hugs | yeosang x reader

Pairing: kang yeosang x reader

Genre: fluff, romance

Summary: Yeosang is shy, but he will make sure you get hugs from him and him only.

Word Count: 390 words

Yeosang hadn’t always been a people person nor was he much of a hugger. Until he met you.

It all started because of Wooyoung's sneaky habit to rile him up — every time you arrived at the dorms or at the studio, Wooyoung would be the first to approach you and demand his hug of the day from his girl best friend. Then, he would joke around and cause harmless mischief with you and apologise for his antics by giving you another hug. His personal reasoning for this was to see how long it would take for Yeosang to explode.

To say the least, Yeosang always had a hardened and unamused expression when this happened. So much so, he began to fling Wooyoung out of the way in an “accidental” manner so that he was the first one to receive a hug.

Then he would have you on the other far end of him away from Wooyoung. He kept you close by with little friendly gestures such as rubbing shoulders side by side as a sign of acknowledgement, and little tender touches and also the occasional playful shove.

And when no one was looking (except Wooyoung maybe), he would shower you with a warm and meaningful hug sporadically in the most loving and affectionate way he knew - either as a backhug or he’d pull you in by the waist and gently sway the both of you for a second.

Yeosang is very shy but he can also be protective, and protecting you from Wooyoung was a critical mission he undertook very seriously.

Don't get him wrong, he trusted the two of you, it's just that he believes his hugs are the best and Wooyoung can find someone else to hug if he needs one.

On Valentine's evening after a day of activities he planned for the two of you, while walking back to your apartment, you told him how cute you found him being jealous.

He was quite smug about it, but responded lovingly.

"It's because I love you."

As you registered what he just said, the unexpected confession made you burst into a fit of giggles, biting your lip and blushing so hard from embarrassment.

Yeosang smirked, satisfied with your response and wrapped you in a warm side hug before pulling you with him side by side towards your home.

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez series #yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #yeosang x y/n #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x y/n #kang yeosang fluff #yeosang fluff

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faeiri-tft · 1 year ago

Note

PLEASE do the toontown online rant i want it so badly

this post kinda got away from me, and by "got away from me" i mean this 3000 word toontown rant is Part One. there will be a Part Two to this later in which i actually talk about the fanservers i wanted to talk about. anyway let's go

toontown online (tto) was a children's mostly-turn-based subscription MMO released in 2003. after a few years of obviously being on life support, disney gave a one-month notice that tto (and several other games) would be closing on september 19th, 2013. on the same day the game closed, the fan-run server toontown rewritten (ttr) was announced (with multiple other fanservers/fangames/reimaginings being established since), and is a few months away from outliving the original game

see, one thing about tto that allowed fanservers to crop up so quickly and easily was that it had, um, interesting choices. very interesting choices. like, "kids could use a code injector to turn their backyards into giant mashed-together nightmarescapes"-level choices

youtube

(loose video description: a rabbit toon running around a chaotic mismash of rooms, obstacles, and npcs that Should Not Be There. audio caption: Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life".)

but ok let's talk about the actual game first.

toontown online (tto)

the game starts with you creating your player character - you can pick from eventually-9 species, a couple body types, and 2 dozen preset colors. the gender code is a spaghetti nightmare but you won't learn this until the fanservers come about so don't worry about it. you're then taken to the Toontorial, which explains maybe 20% of the game's mechanics before setting you loose into the main game

the toontorial also gives you the basic "plot", such as it is: Toontown is suddenly* under attack by a bunch of boring businessrobots called the Cogs. their goal is to turn toontown into a dreary gray featureless corporate hell; their business activities are so boring that they're physically painful to be around. luckily, they can't take a joke, so the toons have figured out how to defeat them: by playing pranks on them until they laugh so hard they Explode

*originally, the game installer had a little animation giving a backstory for the Cogs' creation. this was never referenced in game, removed pretty quickly, and i think even the devs kinda forgot it existed

that's...pretty much the whole story! in that context, your toon progresses through all of toontown, helping some mostly-pretty-interchangeable shopkeepers, reclaiming buildings from the cogs, eating ice cream, etc. occasionally, the cogs would Come Up With New Tricks (read: major content update) and the toons would Find A Way To Fight Back (read: same major content update). that was the closest thing to Plot, unless you count "the devs scheduled a bunch of invasions of high-tier cogs right before the game's closure". but...i doubt most the kids really expected a Plot. mickey mouse was there

the gameplay:

the Free Account

there were two...pretty different approaches to playing toontown online. when the game launched, there was a 3-day free trial to the entire game, after which you got kicked entirely until you subscribed. at some point, this was changed so that the first area, Toontown Central (TTC), was Always Free - you could do all of that area's quests/"taskline" and limited activities, indefinitely, and in theory this would make you beg your parents for the rest of the game

i have no idea if this actually got more subscriptions or not. from what i can tell it just spawned more warrior cats

(source)

there were. a Lot of warrior cats. there were some other social activities, too, such as Fashion Shows (with your limited range of clothes) and Begging Subscribed Players To Summon Cog Buildings To TTC and Getting Chat Banned. ...however, as one of the subscription kids i didn't really interact with this side of the game, so i'm not the best person to talk about it

2. the Paid Account

mmm look at those crisp clear graphics. hell yes

a subscription account gave you access to this whole map, along with all these areas' tasklines. to progress through the game, you must complete a variety of "ToonTasks" for the Toon Resistance (it's called that. their catchphrase is "Toons of the World, Unite!". you were giving disney money for this). these reward you by increasing your max health (your "Laff Points"), slowly unlocking more combat options, and sending you to different, higher-difficulty areas of toontown

some of these tasks were...longer than others. generally, though, they all boiled down to: "just go fight some cogs"

combat:

(source)

toontown battles are turn-based: the players use their attacks ("gags") first, and then any surviving cogs attack you with, usually, office equipment and puns thereof (unless the cog is e.g. a Loan Shark, in which case they can just fucking bite you). if you defeat a cog, it explodes; if the cog defeats you, you "go sad" and are sent back to the safety of the playground, lose your gag inventory, and can't leave until you heal.

early on, most your battles are 1v1, but later on almost everything is a multiplayer 4-ish-v-4.

an...interesting feature here in the game's early days was that you could only Type Your Own Words to someone who shared their "friend code" with you IRL. otherwise, you had to use this thing:

(source)

you had a set list of phrases you could string together, which generally covered most the things you wanted to say. but it could get frustrating when you wanted to have a real conversation with your toontown friends! so...as the source above mentions, people obviously found ways around the system. turns out that if you let players move objects around their houses, they will use that to Draw Letters and pass their friend code along regardless

eventually - before the warrior cats, of course - disney presumably realized this system was pretty goofy (🥁) , so the game got a real chat, albeit one that functioned on a very strict whitelist. my favorite is that it didn't let you type numbers, however you could just say won too tree for hive etc. like. disney i really don't know what to tell you. anyway

(isn't he charming)

cogs come in levels 1-12, with levels displayed above their heads, and as you'd expect their damage output and HP increase with their level. however, the game doesn't...actually show you cog HP? instead they have a little colored light on their chest that fades from green to red until they explode. you see numbers on all the damage you do, and you see your own HP/laff, but never the cogs'. also lategame cogs are Too Tall For You To See Their Level once they line up for battle (which isn't actually that bad but it's funny). there's a formula for HP per level, but it's never mentioned in-game. i guess someone can teach it to you but then you have to watch them type "a level tin cog has won tree too health" and is that really worth it

(as you can tell i just…don't get this. "my kid is practicing arithmetic with toontown!" - marketing angle expressly denied by god. the stealth edutainment was right there)

anyway! in theory, you have seven base combat options ("gag tracks"), which combine in a variety of ways:

toon-up, which restores your teammates' health;

trap, which does guaranteed high damage but only if someone uses lure;

lure, which stuns the cogs for a few turns and is the only way to make trap work

sound, which does low damage to every cog;

throw, which does medium-high-ish damage to one cog; multiple throws combined give percentage combo damage, and hitting a lured cog will also add percentage "knockback damage";

squirt, which is exactly like throw but less damage;

and drop, which does high damage but cannot hit lured cogs, and has low accuracy unless you hit the cog with something else first

each gag track has 6 levels, which you unlock by using that gag track a bunch. you can't carry as many of the high levels with you - i mean, putting one piano in your backpack makes perfect sense, but two is just silly, right

a few years into the game's lifespan, level 7s were added - these were huge AOE that you could regain with every 500 track EXP. there was also something called "organic gags" to promote the please-log-in-every-day gardening system

every player starts with throw and squirt, and throughout the game you slowly unlock four more gag tracks. your choices are permanent: once you have your six tracks, you're locked out of the seventh forever.

in theory, all of this opens up a huge variety of combat options!

in practice, the battle strategy looks something like this:

use sound

as mentioned, almost all of lategame will be 4v4 battles, which means sound will almost always outdamage everything on earth. you don't even need four foghorns (the highest normal sound gag) to break 200 AOE damage, and the highest health a cog EVER has is 200*. and two of the boss battles can reward you with gag restocks and heals that you can use mid-battle with no consequences (other than having to grind for those rewards a bunch). and failing THAT, you can just...ration your foghorns and take 2 turns to clear a set of cogs, interspersed with healing.

(*okay there was something called "v2.0 cogs" but they were...strange, and we just used sound anyway)

sure, once level 7s were added you could use those occasionally. and you could fall back on lure+throw if you didn't want to use your sound restocks. but even then, for most of tto's existence there was something called the "knockback bug" which. well. just look at it

(link for transcript. it's tvtropes sorry)

if you are a target-audience eight-year-old this translates to "lure + throw will only do enough damage if the cogs Feel like it." like it's really just insult to injury at this point. this was the result of One misplaced variable and was not fixed until the game closed

in the tto era, if you didn't have sound, you were kinda doomed to be kicked out of every fight forever

(bonus fun fact: there were Four entire battle themes and they were 40-second midi loops. let me out)

the bosses:

each of the four cog departments has a Boss Cog. to face off against them, you have to assemble a cog disguise and collect enough merits/stock options/whatever to be allowed into the boss's office.

(pictured: your convincing disguise)

when you enter, your disguise pops off due to Reasons, and you have to fight through...a bunch of waves of normal cogs. it's basically a really long normal battle. once the minions are dealt with, you have to, inexplicably, do a live-action battle against the boss themself:

youtube

(loose video description: four toons defeating the CFO by using magnet cranes to hit him in the face with safes for 32 seconds.)

the live-action rounds aren't supposed to go this quickly, but it's still...kinda strange? certain reoccurring game areas require Parkour, but there are no battles like this outside of the Four bosses. the CFO's room is the only place you see these cranes and they have A Lot Going On. the other 3 bosses have their own unique weird mechanics. before the first boss was added we neither had nor needed the ability to Jump. it's just weird

once you've defeated the boss, you're given a reward of varying usefulness (the best/most unbalanced reward type is Unites, which are a free heal or gag restock you can do inside or outside of battle. essentially lategame toons can simply choose not to die. riv2u etc.)

and, um. then you get some more merits/stock options/whatever and do it again. and again. and again. and again. and agai

the grind:

so the thing is that tto was a subscription mmo. every addition to the game had to be measured, above all, in terms of "how can we best get kids to beg their parents to give us money." this especially shows in the suit grind:

(source/source)

you have to defeat each boss 78 times in order to get all their laff points - and as you proceed, you have to defeat an increasing amount of cogs to even be allowed into the boss (although once you max you get in for free).

by far the easiest way is to run through the designated HQ facilities - basically, cog fights interspersed with some platforming or minigames. you only collect your merits/whatever at the Very End of the facility. the only way to increase what a facility gives you is if your last battle ends during an "invasion" - a timed period where One Specific Cog replaces all street cogs, usually summoned with boss rewards.

the sellbot HQ grind isn't so bad. bossbot HQ - the endest-game HQ - frequently requires you to do an hour-long facility and on six separate occasions you have to do seven of them. if the invasion ends before your final battle, you have to sit around until someone summons another. if you lose your internet connection because it's 2008, or if your parents make you come to dinner, or if hacking or the game's general bugginess cause a server reset because you're probably in the busiest district for the invasion bonus, you have spent that Entire Hour On Nothing. the CEO (bossbot cog boss) probably also takes an hour because you and your fellow players are 10

this shit, combined with laff points locked behind gardening (time-gated), racing and golfing (multiplayer minigames with absurd requirements), and fishing (RNG-based with some fish being absurdly rare. i watched my mom fish for one every day for a month), meant that maxing a toon took Years, if you managed it ever.

it wasn't, um. it wasn't good

ok so what else is wrong with this game:

i had "aged out of the game" (lol) by the early '10s, so i'm not the best person to do a writeup of the hacking/scripting situation of those days. that said, what i'm going to do is give you a few examples, and i want you to just...look at them

(source)

(source). early '10s youtube was funny i'm trying to decide if i miss it

(source). fun thing to note here is that other players had collision, so a swarm of t-posing toons could just barricade the gag shop if they wanted to

youtube

(video description: toon who has Replaced His Head Model With An Anime Logo throwing thousands of jellybeans at everyone) (cw mild flashing just in case? and also the feather headband accessory)

i should note that the Bring Me To Life vid i started with was client-side, meaning only the player could see their technicolor hellscape. this guy's face was server-side. i do Not Think you should be able to do that

youtube

(video description: a player demonstrating use of a bot to get into the nutty river district, followed by other players using it to go to different game areas)

the above video was posted on august 17th, 2013. if you don't want to watch an Unregistered Hypercam 3 recording at about 5 frames per second, what's going on here is:

the player goes to a specific location and says a specific speedchat phrase.

a bot toon teleports to their location and provides some prompts on how to use it

the player tells the bot, via speedchat, to teleport to the (currently closed from the outside) busiest district so the player can follow

these "taxi toons" were server-sided, persisted across server resets, were made by a future fanserver dev, had younger kids referring to them as a "glitch" as if this were something that could Accidentally Happen, and stayed functional until the game closed

like...a lot of the "hacking" was just baby's first script download. this one - afaict also created by the laughing man head guy - is like...the fact that after years of no substantial game updates, someone effectively programmed their own "QOL feature" (note: not actually good for the poor mid-00s server being turned into a clown car) into a silly disney MMO and it just fucking sat there for a year is just. it's just.

i don't know what this is. this is not Playing The Game Toontown Online. this is nothing. this is everything. there are comments from 2013 on some of these videos saying stuff like "hackers killed toontown", but your game cannot have this happen if it is not already dying

and, like...it was. i'm not sure how many moderators there were by this point, but at the very end of tto, the number of active devs was One. the original devteam recently brought this up at the 20th anniversary celebration: devs just...slowly started getting pulled from the game, one at a time. there were a few updates after bossbot HQ - Field Offices, which i've basically never heard anything good about in their tto form ever; the Silly Meter, a yearly event...thing whose main function was to add unskippable dancing-inanimate-object cutscenes to your street battles; Parties, which...yknow parties were okay actually. i accept parties. but they weren't exactly a Major Game Update like the ones that had come before. in 2011 we gained the ability to Wear Hats. in 2012 the test server got some actual QOL updates that never made it to the main game; the final test server update was some maintenance in february, and then nothing for 18 months. disney was not providing enough resources to address the scripting because disney was not providing enough resources to address toontown. imagine being the last dev standing on an MMO that was older than some of its players, was losing its business model to mobile gaming, and spent most of its life falling apart at the seams. just imagine it, for a second

it couldn't have kept going, not like this.

on august 20, 2013, the closing announcement came: we had a month left of toontown online. the test server shut immediately; subscription refunds went out, and the game became actually F2P for the month; the part of the announcement that went like "we're shifting our focus to other games!" made a bunch of twelve-year-olds hate club penguin as if club penguin wouldn't also close in a few years; all the holiday events went off at once; and...

there wasn't a "thanks for playing!" popup. everyone online just got kicked, all at once. it was finally over

hey wait.

#toontown #toontown online #tto #tft talks #tft stuff #<- this goes in that tag i think #this was like. enrichment. thank you

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prollywolly · 6 months ago

Text

Come Home Soon [S. Gojo]

summary: being away on missions is always hard for satoru. on one particular night, close to his return date, he can't seem to fix the problem he has and decides to call you for some help.

warnings: 18+ only, MDNI! smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex, mentions of satoru wanting to smell the sheets you soaked, fem!reader, fingering

word count: 2.1k

a/n: hihihi! my first smut piece, i'm so so excited! it's been a while since i've written smut, but writing this made me remember how much i really enjoy it! let me know how much you guys like this and if you have any requests please feel free to send them in! this gojo brainrot is really winning the battle right now...

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

you always understood satoru’s work as a special grade sorcerer. it wasn’t a surprise that he was valuable and needed to be everywhere at once. when he was single, it was so much easier, he wouldn’t lie. but he wouldn’t trade having you by his side for anything in the world.

having you waiting for him at home was always a reassuring thought that sat in the back of his mind.

but it was the nights like these.

the nights where he was fisting his cock with such ferocity because you weren’t here to help him. you were too busy at home waiting for him while he was halfway across japan yearning for you to touch him like you always did.

the sex that you and satoru had was filthy.

the two of you were always trying something different. new positions, new kinks, your sex lives were very much active and growing. which is why his thumb was hovering over the video call option on his phone.

his cock was aching. he had been pumping himself for what felt like hours and couldn’t seem to focus enough on something to get him going. it was unheard of to him. everything about you drove him crazy, so why was it so difficult to find something to help him sleep tonight?

he bit his bottom lip harshly, praying to every god above him that you were still awake. when the call started to connect, his body relaxed and he watched as the ceiling of your guys' bedroom widened on his phone screen.

“toru?” your voice was a bit hoarse, groggy with sleep. “what’s the matter baby?”

satoru felt his cock throb at the sound of your voice. his angry tip was dripping with precum, a soft huff escaping him. he licked his slightly chapped lips, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“miss you baby,”

“i miss you t-”

“i… i need your help baby,”

satoru flipped the camera around to show you his painfully hard dick. you felt your mouth water instantly at the sight of him. his dick was glistening under the dim light of his hotel room, it was obvious that he had tried to lube himself up and take care of himself. you couldn’t help but notice how much precum was dribbling down the sides of his cock. he was going to fucking explode.

“poor baby…” you cooed softly, the sound of you shifting your position in bed ringing through the speakers of his phone.

“what do you need me to do, hm? tell me what you need.”

satoru groaned and his hand loosely grabbed his dick. he pumped himself achingly slow, using his thumb to spread his precum all over himself. he felt a harsh lump in the back of his throat that was hard to swallow. he needed you. but he knew he couldn’t have exactly what he wanted.

“let me see that pretty face, baby. stop pointing your camera at the ceiling,”

the second you set up your camera, he audibly groaned.

you came into view with nothing but a white tank top and his favorite pair of panties. a white lacy thong with pretty pink flowers sewn into the lace all over. his mouth watered and he could smell your arousal through the fucking phone. satoru’s eyes shut momentarily as he grounded himself. your nipples were hard and perky, looking at him through the phone and begging to be touched.

“fuck baby, did you know i was gonna call?” his hand kept his same pace as before as he spoke to you.

“wore my favorite pair of panties like a little slut just waiting for me to call you?”

shivers danced down your spine at his words. it’s really all you needed to get going yourself. your freshly manicured nails that he had just paid for earlier today came up to the bottom of the tank top, you lifted the shirt just enough to let your tits drop out of your shirt. satoru moaned as they bounced slightly, his eyes widened as you began to pinch and play with your nipples.

the soft moan you let out was like music to his ears.

satoru picked up the pace of his hand and let out another guttural groan.

“fuck baby, massage ‘em for me, yeah? show me how i do it,”

you let out another soft moan as you roughly massaged at your mounds of skin. satoru droned out a long string of curses as he watched you toy with yourself. he could’ve cum right then and there, but he had been working at it for way too long on his own. he was going to take his time and savor this load he was going to bust, he deserved to cum nice and hard for you.

your french tips slid down to the hem of your thong, your middle finger reaching down to rub the wet patch that was forming in the fabric. with a shaky sigh, you pushed hard onto your clit as you massaged your pussy, clenching on pure air as you imagined satoru’s fingers dipping into you.

“just like that baby, fuck.” satoru exhaled harshly. “let me see that pretty pussy,”

and who were you to deny him? you lifted your ass up and slid your panties down your legs with trembling hands, spreading your legs open wide to give satoru the perfect view of his favorite place. the moan satoru let out at the sight of your dripping cunt was pornographic. he could taste your pussy on his tongue, he wanted nothing more than to eat you out like a starved man.

in a way, that’s exactly what he was.

he’d been away on his trip for almost a month now, hardly having time to himself like this. it’s been the longest he’s gone without fucking you, let alone ravishing your sopping folds.

“oh my god, you’re fucking soaked-”

you dipped your fingers down once more, spreading your wetness across your pussy like you were fingerpainting on a canvas. your soft sounds mixed in with the wet squelch of your pussy nearly made satoru’s cock spurt ropes of cum onto the fucking ceiling.

“t-toru~” you whined softly.

“miss you so much…” you mumbled quietly. “need your fingers, ‘nd your cock.”

satoru inhaled deeply, not sure how much more he could take of being away from you. and with the way you were begging for him, he almost wanted to piss this mission away and get home to you as fast as he could. he feels like he’s hallucinating. he could feel your slick all over his dick, each ridge and gummy crevisce of your pussy clenching around him like a drug. your cunt was dangerous, always sucking his cock right back inside with each thrust he pulled out of you.

“g-god, you’re so fucking nasty baby,” he growled under his breath. “so fucking wet for me and i’m not even there to touch you…”

another mewl squeezed itself from your lips as you slid a finger into your weeping hole. you pumped your finger at the same gingerly pace as satoru did, your free hand continuing to massage your boob. the both of you were complete messes, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you fed off of the noises the other was making.

“add another finger baby, you know you can take more than one,” satoru winced, watching as you added a second finger and it slipped into you with ease.

“fuuuuuuck,”

satoru was salivating, his lips parted enough to let a bit of drool pool at his lips. you looked so sexy, so vulnerable and bare as you fucked yourself on camera. it fed into his ego that you were just as desperate as he was. fucking your fingers into yourself trying to chase the same feeling that his cock gave you when he was drilling into you.

the both of you knew that nothing was going to be better than actual sex, but this phone sex was definitely doing its job as a quick fix.

as satoru picked up his pace, you followed suit and let out a satisfied groan in response.

“shiiiiiit toru,” satoru smirked at the sound of your weeping whines. “wish you were fucking me inst-ead-”

satoru could see it in his head so vividly when he closed his eyes.

the way your tits jerked all over the place as he hammered his cock into you relentlessly. his long fingers would grip the supple skin of your hips like if his life depended on it, fingertips painting blue and purple bruises permanently. you always looked so gorgeous when you took his cock. you would wince the second he sheathed himself inside you, the pain mixing with pleasure instantly the second that he started to move.

the faces you made only pushed him further into his bliss. the way those pretty little doe eyes would look up at him like he put the stars in the night sky. they’d shut tightly whenever he hit your sweet spot, the sound of your screams for him to keep going always following shortly after.

“ungh- f-fuck. a little faster now, i’m s-so close-”

like the good girl you were, you kept up with his pace and humped your hand frantically, chasing the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body.

the sight of you was so obscene. your arousal pooled beneath you, soaking into your sheets. the more that you fucked your fingers into your cunt, your slick would shoot out of your cunt like you had been stuffed full. there was nowhere else for it to go, the loud splat of your palm making contact with your cunt creating more of a mess with the force you were using.

“Fuck baby, you better fucking cum with me when i say so, do you hear me?” satoru snarled through clenched teeth.

he hissed as he fucked his hand harshly, lightly squeezing his hand to create the same effect that your vixen of a cunt would whenever it clenched tightly around him.

“o-oh, toruuuuuu~” you whined loudly. “gonna- gonna-”

satoru wasn’t in any better of a condition than you were right now. babbling incoherent curses as he goaded you to wait until he was ready to cum with you. it took every fiber of your being to wait for satoru, but once he granted you permission with a tight jaw, you released all over your fingers with a head-splitting whine, riding out your high by carefully listening to the sounds of satoru shooting ropes of cum all over his toned stomach and legs.

FUCK.

satoru’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, black spots clouding his vision as he tried hard to focus his eyes on something random in his hotel room. your legs fell limp, your pussy still in perfect view for him as you threw your head back onto the pillows of your shared bed.

with a shaky sigh, satoru flipped his phone camera to reveal his face. he chuckled softly as his eyes feasted over the sight of your swollen pussy. the white sheen of your cum painted your folds and shimmered under the dim lights of the room. after a few moments, you slowly sat up and grabbed your phone from the spot you perched it on.

“how’s my girl, hm?”

you let out a small scoff and rubbed your still-tired eyes. with a soft giggle you flipped the camera to show your boyfriend the wet mess you had made all over the bed sheets. satoru gasped in disbelief and let out a proud chortle.

“i gotta put the sheets to wash now. is it gross and disgusting if i just sleep on your side and wait until tomorrow morning? i don’t wanna get up to put this shit in the washer,”

satoru smiled and shook his head.

“leave that shit for when i get back baby, i’ll be home in a couple days and i wanna get home and shove my face in it. let it marinate for a bit until i make it home, yeah?”

you let out a high-pitched squeal at his comment and shook your head in disgust. as the both of you giggled to one another, you stood up on shaking legs and started to pull the sheets off the mattress.

“you’re such a perv! i’m putting this shit to wash,”

#x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 2 months ago

Text

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 26/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3 (current chapter)

Read on AO3 (from beginning)

“Now,” Evan barked, leaping to his feet and closing the ledger with a resounding snap. “Now, we have to go. Now!” He rushed over and grabbed Tommy’s hand, as though he was going to physically drag him to the motel room door.

Tommy knew better than to argue with anyone who had that tone in their voice. “What’s going on?” he asked, yanking the door open and quickly glancing around to confirm they were alone before leading Evan outside.

“There’s a locator on this,” Evan hissed, glaring at the ledger like it had done him some personal injury. “I couldn’t tell before—it must’ve activated when I took it out of Greenway’s house. Maybe when I broke the locking hex. But someone’s using it; I can feel it now.”

Tommy jerked the keys out of his pocket, bracing himself for the short run to where the car was parked in the last, fading shreds of sunlight. “Can you block it?”

“Yeah, I can shut it down, but we need to get moving. They can scry our location or—”

Evan broke off with a startled cry, nearly dropping the ledger. The concrete walkway underneath them started to glow with the white light of witch magic. It traced itself in glowing lines around them, forming some kind of sigil about four feet in diameter. The air all around Tommy seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on him and his witch, heavy with the staticky charge of powerful magic. Tommy tried to pull Evan out of the circumference, and found to his shock that it was like running against a concrete wall. He snarled, his fangs dropping…

Only to realize that no sound came out of his mouth.

Evan’s hand tightened on his, and he whirled to see his witch’s mouth working like he was shouting something…but Tommy couldn’t hear him. They were silenced.

Trapped in the boundaries of the spell, and silenced so Evan couldn’t cast. Tommy whirled around, and threw himself at the invisible wall that seemed to have sprung up around. He struck out as hard as he could, gritting his teeth when his fist slammed into what felt like solid rock. Sparks of white exploded outwards where his knuckles struck, and a shock of electricity raced up his arm. He narrowed his eyes and struck again, throwing all his strength behind it, trying to generate more force than the spell could handle.

He was only able to throw himself against the barrier holding them a couple of times before Evan grabbed his shoulder, pulling him forcefully back. At the same moment, the scent of fresh blood—witch blood, Evan’s blood hit his nose. He whipped around to find Evan staring at him with a determined look, his blue eyes hard as flint. He’d ripped the makeshift bandage off his wrist and dug his blunt nails into the still-fresh bite marks Tommy had left, tearing the wounds open enough that they were bleeding freely again. His fingers were covered with blood.

“Trust. Me,” Evan mouthed, exaggerating the words.

Then he dropped to his knees and started smearing his bloodied fingers on the concrete, painting a curved sigil that Tommy thought looked vaguely familiar. He was almost certain he’d seen it somewhere before. When he was done, he pressed his palm down over it, a look of fierce concentration on his face. Tommy felt his eyes go wide, shock racing through him as white light exploded outwards from Evan’s palm, the sigil he’d sketched in his own blood glowing with it as well. The magic raced out and upwards, sparking out in jagged, lightning bolt-like patterns all around them, as though the barrier was cracking. Evan nodded at him gravely.

Tommy did trust his witch. Implicitly. He whirled around and drove his fist into the invisible wall around them one more time, throwing his whole weight, all of his strength, behind the blow. The glowing cracks formed by Evan’s magic spread, multiplied, and then Tommy felt the spell holding them shatter. The sigil that had sprung up underneath them sputtered like a candleflame in a strong wind, before blinking out of existence.

Tommy wasted no time, reaching back to grab Evan’s hand and drag him towards the car. He’d barely made it two steps before he heard a shouted spellword that had become entirely too familiar in the last few days. Evan suddenly yanked hard on his arm, swinging them around so that he was now in front of Tommy, one hand thrown forward, a spell already falling from his lips.

The bolt of fire that had been aimed with deadly accuracy at Tommy’s head broke harmlessly over Evan’s closed fist, the same way the burst of power Athena Grant’s familiar had hurled at Evan did. Tommy’s gaze snapped to the direction it had come from, a low growl rumbling in his chest when three figures seemed to melt out of the deepening shadows directly across the parking lot from them. He was certain they hadn’t been there a moment before.

Or at least, they had not been visible.

His eyes darted around, searching for the witches’ familiars. There were no obvious animals present—but he couldn’t rule out that they were simply small or hiding. Evan took a step back towards Tommy, exhaling shakily as he made a sharp gesture—almost like he was pulling something up from the ground—and chanted another short phrase. Another barrier shimmered into place around them…but this time there was no oppressive weight, no suffocating silence. Evan’s magic swirled around him, warm and protective, his power settling over them with the solid surety of a shield wall. He could feel the power of the spell, the crackling electricity of it making his teeth ache, prickling over the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck.

“Evan,” he said, squeezing his witch’s hand in warning.

“I’m all right,” Evan said through gritted teeth. “I can’t—I don’t think I can just teleport us out this time, though. Tommy, we can’t hurt them.”

Tommy clenched his fist by his side. Yeah. Yeah, just straight up killing representatives of the SoCal high coven would have much worse consequences for him and Evan than killing the vampires who had attacked them. He had no doubt that Ortiz would want revenge for her coven members, to not appear weak if nothing else. But the life of an enforcer in a vampire coven was expected to end violently. Ortiz would have thought he and Evan were weak if they hadn’t responded to being attacked with deadly force. The high coven, though, would take it personally if they took out these witches. It could even come back on Howie and his coven if Grant admitted that Tommy and Evan were helping them.

Fuck.

“I know,” Tommy said, squaring his shoulders as he reluctantly let go of Evan’s hand. “We don’t have to do this! Whatever you think you’re here for, you’ve been misinformed!” Tommy called, his voice echoing through the empty parking lot. Theirs was the only vehicle parked on this end of the motel…and even if there were people in a lot of the other rooms, he doubted anyone in this neighborhood would investigate the sounds of a fight or get the cops involved unless there were gunshots. Let the high coven worry about maintaining secrecy.

He didn’t think it would work. Nothing in his life was ever that easy…but he had to try. Evan seemed stronger than he’d been during their confrontation at the office building, but his witch had to be reaching the end of his limits. As he expected, the lead witch, a severe-looking Hispanic woman, barely flicked her eyes towards him before zeroing in on Evan.

“You know how to cast with runes,” she said, a faint hint of surprise in her voice. Tommy tensed, not liking the consideration in her tone. The interest.

It wasn’t surprising, really. Witches could not cast without the structure of a spell—the easiest way to neutralize them was to silence them. With a spell or a gag or—vampires like Gerrard’s preferred method—by simply ripping their tongue out. But there were ways to cast without a voice. After all, it wasn’t like no witch had ever been born deaf, or mute, or lost their voice through injury or sickness. Tommy knew even less about casting with runes than he did about typical spellcasting…he just knew it was possible. And extremely unusual for a witch to be able to do both; runes were an entirely separate spellcasting language to learn.

Though if Evan’s familiar really had lived through the Annihilation, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that he knew it.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded. “You’re banished; I could feel that the moment we saw you. Yet, you accomplished a teleportation spell. You know runecasting. That shield won’t hold for long…but I’ll admit it’ll hold longer than most. The only registered banishments in the last three years are all either women or much older than you. Who. Are. You?”

He felt Evan stiffen behind him, his witch’s hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades and clenching in the fabric of his torn shirt. “It doesn’t matter who I am. We’re all getting played, and we’re running out of time to stop a coven war from blowing up.”

The woman raised a disbelieving eyebrow, and the other two witches spread out slightly, their hands glowing with the white light of magic. “Ah, yes, the word of a couple of murderers—a banished witch and a vampire, no less. Very trustworthy.”

Evan bristled. “We didn’t kill Jonah Greenway. He tried to kill me. He’s responsible for over a dozen witches’ deaths! I can prove it!”

The woman pulled up short at that. “Proof? What proof do you think we could possibly take from you?”

Evan stepped out from around Tommy, the shield shifting with him. Tommy barely resisted the urge to pull his witch back, his fangs aching in his mouth, his eyes burning with scarlet light now. Still, he’d back Evan’s play…if there was a way to get out of this without bloodshed, they had to take it. His witch held the ledger up.

“You tracked this here, right? I tripped some kind of alarm on it. You know the spell originated at Greenway’s house. You saw what we did to those vampires. Why do you think they were there, if we killed Greenway? Wouldn’t they be on our side? There’s mimic bursts recorded on the pages—witches have been going missing for months here, haven’t they? Let any of their covens listen to the mimics, and I guarantee they’ll identify them. Greenway was selling us out to vampires.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and one of her companions, a tall, dark-haired man with pale skin and a linebacker’s build, shifted from foot to foot, clearly agitated. “Catherine,” he snapped. “He’s working with a fucking vampire.”

“Doesn’t mean what he’s saying isn’t true,” Tommy called out, giving in to his instincts and stepping closer to Evan. “I’ve seen too damn many coven wars in my time—I don’t want one here anymore than you do.”

“Thomas Kinard,” the woman, Catherine apparently, said. “I heard an interesting rumor that you’ve been disavowed by your coven. Gabriel Alonzo’s at least reasonable, for a vampire. Why would he kick his best asset out of his coven, if you’re not helping to drive up tensions in the city?”

Tommy lifted his chin. “If you know who I am, surely you know how I operate. I’m not interested in a coven war. Neither is he.” He jerked his head towards Evan, a spike of worry unfurling in his belly when he noted the beads of sweat that were starting to stand out on his witch’s forehead. “Neither are you, I’d hope.”

“Take the ledger to the high coven,” Evan added earnestly. “Greenway’s coven leader can confirm the magic in it is his.”

“Olivia Ortiz is behind everything,” Tommy said. “Someone was making payments to Greenway regularly. There are people trying to decipher Greenway’s records, but I think when they do you’re going to be able to trace the money back to Ortiz. And I’ll bet anything the dates line up pretty closely to when each of your missing witches disappeared. She’s been pumping up her ranks with witch blood.”

The woman was considering their words, he could tell. Doubt was creeping into the edges of her icy expression. Her two companions—the linebacker and a delicate-looking Black woman with dozens of long, thin braids—were growing more agitated by the second, exchanging loaded looks the longer he and Evan talked.

“Just listen,” Evan pleaded. “We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The woman sighed heavily, seeming to come to a decision. She held out one hand. “Throw the book,” she ordered imperiously.

“Del Marco!” the other woman cried.

“This whole situation stinks, Peterson,” the lead witch said with cold determination. “Something’s wrong. You know that.”

Evan relaxed ever so slightly, glancing at Tommy out of the corner of his eye. “Stay behind me,” his witch said softly. “I don’t like how twitchy the big guy looks.” He held the book up higher, winding up to throw it over to the high coven representative.

The linebacker grimaced, and Tommy heard him swear softly under his breath. He shot another significant look at his companion. Tommy realized what was going to happen a fraction of a second too late.

“Sorry Del Marco,” the linebacker said, with what sounded like genuine regret. Then he gestured sharply with one hand, chanting a spellword as he did so, and a bolt of power shot towards her. The lead witch went flying, a cry of pain and surprise echoing in the lot.

* * *

Evan watched in shocked horror as one of the witches—an enforcer for the fucking Southern California high coven—turned on his superior and could only think: they might be in real trouble, here.

The thought skipped through Evan’s head, frantic as a moth fluttering against a light bulb, there and gone as he poured more power into the shield spell surrounding him and Tommy. His vampire’s solid presence at his back helped him ground himself, ignore the way his grip on his magic was starting to feel a little bit shaky, the way his head was starting to ache and his breath was starting to come a bit faster.

Even on his best day, with a fully functional coven bond and all the time in the world to rest and prepare, he would not have been a match for three high coven enforcers for very long. Longer than most, sure, but he’d eventually be forced to retreat. Now? With the only places he could even conceive of as a safe destination miles and miles away, already having cast multiple powerful spells, having used rune magic for the first time in what had to be two years…he wasn’t entirely sure that attempting to teleport himself and his vampire to safety wouldn’t kill him.

It would at least hurt him very, very much.

His concentration flickered, his barrier shimmering weaker for a bare instant before instincts Sally had drilled into him snapped him back to the present. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, shoving the ledger back in his pocket and starting forward.

The other woman, the one the lead witch had called Peterson, snapped towards him, her hands raised defensively. Evan planted himself squarely in front of Tommy, bracing himself as she shouted her own spell and arcs of white lightning shot across the parking lot at them. He grunted as they struck his barrier, the force of it like a physical blow, and stumbled back a half step before he regained his footing, calling up more power for the barrier.

“Can you keep most of their spells off me?” Tommy suddenly hissed, close to his ear. He spared a glance over his shoulder to find his vampire glaring at the linebacker, his fangs glistening in the light cast by the few broken streetlights in the parking lot, and his eyes gleaming solidly crimson.

Too far away. Tommy was fucking fast, but they were on the other side of the parking lot from the witches, and Evan didn’t think even his vampire would be able to dodge everything they could throw at him. At least behind the barrier they were safe for the moment. But they were also sitting ducks, and the barrier wouldn’t hold forever. Evan took a deep breath, shoving the pain and the weakness starting to steal through his limbs down deep. “A little longer,” he prayed. “Just a little longer, please.”

“Nothing will touch you,” he swore grimly. Despite the dire situation, a fierce, proud grin twisted his vampire’s lips.

“I’m going for him first,” Tommy said, all the warning Evan got before his vampire bounded away from him, bolting across the cracked asphalt almost faster than Evan’s eye could follow.

He saw when the two witches realized Tommy was on the move. The linebacker had been stalking toward where Del Marco was sprawled across the concrete in a groaning heap, his hands glowing with power. With a snarl, he wheeled toward Tommy, and Evan forced himself to concentrate on the one called Peterson, summoned a volley of fire which aimed more to distract than harm. She stumbled backward in surprise when flames erupted at her feet, her own barrier shimmering into place around her body.

Almost at the same moment, Tommy crashed into the other one with a growl that Evan heard even from yards away. They went rolling, and he saw a burst of white light between them before Tommy flew back. His vampire hit the ground hard, but rolled with the momentum, coming up in a predatory crouch he held for a bare second before launching himself at the man again.

Del Marco was trying to get to her knees, blood streaming down the side of her face as she shook her head dizzily. Peterson whirled on her and Evan groaned out loud before doing the only thing he could think to. He split his focus, throwing his hand out towards Del Marco and calling up a shield that would have had Sally making him run laps around the coven to repent. The shaky, flickering barrier held against another of Peterson’s lightning onslaughts, though, even though it made Evan’s head swim to hold the two shields in place.

“Get up!” he screamed at Del Marco, taking a few hurried steps towards the witch even as Tommy threw himself at the linebacker again. Just a heartbeat too slow as another flare of magic erupted around the man, a whirl of wind whipping up around him that threw Tommy back yet again. “Get up, you have to get up!”

“Maddox…wha—” Del Marco started, shaking her head dizzily.

There was a sudden commotion to Evan’s left, a scuffle of bodies and a loud snarl. When Evan looked, he was horrified to see a familiar who had taken the shape of a large German Shepard running down one that had the form of a gray and white cat. Above them, Evan could barely make out a small sparrow, flitting back and forth and shrieking angrily. The dog pounced on the cat right in front of Evan, its teeth tearing into the cat’s sides with a savagery that was sickening to watch.

Across the parking lot, Del Marco screamed, collapsing back to her hands and knees as the bond she had with her familiar flooded with the cat’s pain.

Peterson started chanting, her face twisted in anger as she raised her hands above her head. A cold chill raced up Evan’s spine when he recognized the spell.

Tommy was thrown back from the linebacker again, this time with so much force that his head cracked against the asphalt loud enough that Evan heard it above the cries of pain coming from Del Marco’s familiar.

Linebacker advanced on Del Marco again, a crazed sort of determination settling on his face. Tommy rolled dizzily to his knees. Above Peterson’s head a cloud of mist began to form, the white glow of her magic swirling in the center and growing brighter, brighter, brighter…bright as daylight. Bright as sunlight.

Evan could fire off a spell at her, but Del Marco and her familiar would be dead before he and Tommy could recover. He could attack the linebacker, but his vampire would be left defenseless under a beam of false sunlight and fire. His magic was a sputtering force within him, coming to the end of his reserves, his body starting to betray him as his hands shook and his breath came in short, sharp pants. He couldn’t teleport. Even if he wanted to let Del Marco die to save his vampire, he was too far away. There was…there was…

There was only one choice.

Trust your magic, little love. You must always have perfect trust in your magic, or you are lost.

Sally’s remembered words echoed in his head, her most important lesson when she taught him the only spell that could save them all. Evan breathed once, twice. He closed his eyes. And chanted his spell as he stepped forward in perfect trust. He turned once and pulled. Turned twice and pulled. Turned three times and pulled.

When he opened his eyes, Del Marco and her familiar were crumpled on the ground in front of him. Tommy stood beside him, looking around in shock and confusion. Peterson and the linebacker were whipping this way and that, searching the parking lot with frantic eyes. Their voices echoed weirdly, as though coming from very far underwater. Everything felt like it was very far underwater, a strange, bluish haze enveloping the parking lot where they were standing. The air was cold as a winter morning, and Evan shivered at the familiar feeling.

“Evan,” Tommy said, and then let out a startled cry when Peterson walked right through him, her body rippling through Tommy’s like a ghost. “Evan, where are we? What’d you do?”

Evan swallowed, trying to breathe through the way his head was spinning. He wiped his nose with one hand and was unsurprised when his fingers came away with a small smear of blood. He looked over at his vampire and shrugged apologetically.

“Only thing I could think of,” he said quietly. “Welcome to the between.”

#911 abc #911 tv show #bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #kinley #tevan #tevan fic #firepilot #firebeast #mywriting #shameless self promotion

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sukoshininja · 3 months ago

Text

Blood Gamble

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"It's not mine."

That's what Lance had said, because it couldn't be. He would know. Wouldn't he?

But judging by the look on Keith's face, he was clearly missing something.

"We need to put pressure on that," Keith said slowly in that carefully enunciated voice, the one he used when he was trying to hide his alarm.

Again, it wasn't his. But he knew better than to interfere when Keith was like this, teetering on the edge of panic. Better to let him see for himself.

Lance allowed Keith to remove his left rerebrace, which, to Keith's credit, was slick with blood. Keith wrinkled his nose and bit the tip of his glove, pulling it off his hand.

"See? Not mine."

"Nothing on this planet bleeds red, Lance," Keith reminded him as he forcefully pressed the rubber glove into Lance's tricep.

Oh yeah.

But if that was true, then why didn't--

Oh. Oh. Okay. Now it hurt. The pain was so sharp it felt cold, spreading ice to his nerves in his fingers. He wiggled them experimentally. Bad idea.

Keith tapped his helmet, activating his comm, "Red team withdrawing. We need to get Lance to a healing pod. Stat."

"Do you need an extraction?" Allura asked, concerned.

"No, but he's losing a lot of blood."

"How much blood are we talking?" Hunk asked as Lance's vision started to get fuzzy around the edges

"Tourniquet level," Keith replied as he pulled his hairband out with one hand, the other still holding pressure to the wound.

His heart was beating so fast that Lance half expected it to explode. He tried to focus on taking big slow breaths, but he found himself gasping for air when it seemed like he couldn't get the air in fast enough. Oh no, he was hyperventilating. That couldn't be good.

"Hold this," Keith instructed as he folded the band in half and wrapped it around Lance's arm, pulling the elastic tight.

The pressure on his brachial artery was not a welcome sensation, he realized as he felt his hyperactive pulse push against the elastic band. Nausea rolled in his stomach.

Keith snapped his fingers in front of Lance's nose. Lance tried to focus on the eyes looking back at him with intensity. "I'm gonna need you to keep pressure on this, as much as you can."

Lance nodded, the pain making him feel so weak he was numb, like his extremities were slowly disappearing. It wouldn't be long before he was weightless.

Keith hoisted him in a fire's carry before bolting for Red.

Lance was barely aware as his cheek lay against the cockpit floor. It was cool. And he was the coldest he had ever been.

Fog pressed up against him, clouding his awareness.

-nce

What was that?

-ance!

The sound dipped in and out, gently, like a lullaby.

Lance! What's your blood type?

And everything was quiet.

* * *

There was a pressure in his head. A pounding. Wait. That's what sounds were. Those were sounds. Funny. He couldn't understand them. Not yet. It was like they were all meshing together in one big blob that echoed through his head like a gong.

It was dark too. Oh. His eyes were closed. He should open them. Nope. Too hard. He could wait. Something was off, and he wasn't terribly eager to find out what.

When Lance came to, he was on his knees.

He slowly opened his eyes. The light burned. He squeezed them shut again.

"How are you feeling, Lance?" a booming voice asked and Lance flinched.

"I--" words felt weird in his mouth. And was that supposed to be his voice all frail and scratchy? "I'm alive, I-I think."

"You had us for a while there," the voice continued. Lance recognized it as Shiro.

"Can't keep me down!" Lance replied weakly. Sensations were gradually beginning to return. None of them were pleasant.

He tried opening his eyes again. Still too bright.

"You saw that, right?" Pidge asked, alarmed.

Shiro made a corrective noise. "Let's focus on getting him stable before getting side-tracked. Lance, can you stand?"

Lance tried, but it was like his muscles couldn't be bothered. "I don’t think so."

"It's okay. I'm going to carry you, alright?"

Lance nodded. As Shiro lifted him, he attempted to open his eyes once again, but this time only by a hair. It was still too bright, but it was bearable, and he could roughly make out the figures around him. They were in the medical bay. He must have just exited the pod.

"Should I wake him?" Pidge asked, gesturing at a makeshift cot.

"Let's wait until Lance gets settled," Shiro advised. He gently carried Lance, bridal style, to his room.

Pidge pulled back the sheets and Shiro gently placed him down on the mattress. They fussed at him, arranging his limbs, fluffing pillows and tucking him in. Shiro adjusted the weird cape thing that draped from Lance's shoulders. It reminded him of that thing barbers snapped around your neck when getting a haircut.

"What's this?"

It did not escape him how they both stiffened.

"We’re gonna wait until you are a little more sober," Shiro said carefully. "You'll get to see it soon, after you heal a little more."

That bad?

"Chicks dig scars," Lance made it sound as flippant as he could.

Shiro regarded him with a calm mask. "Do you need anything? Water, more pain killers?"

"Can you turn the lights down? They really hurt."

Shiro adjusted the dimmer until the lights faded to a soft glow.

Everything came into sharp focus as he was able to open his eyes fully. His vision was still a little off, though.

Pidge was looking at him intently, almost as if she was studying him.

"How long was I out?"

"Long enough to have us all worried," Shiro answered. "I'll let the others know you're awake. I'm sure they'll want to see you, but it's okay if you're not up for company just yet."

"I can say hi," Lance offered.

Shiro nodded and stepped out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Pidge was still squinting at him. He was not about to apologize for the low light. She looked pale, like all the color had gone out of her.

"Why do you look...less?"

"You're standing in the presence of a universal donor, you greedy bastard," she announced proudly, striking a hero pose.

That couldn't be right. She was much too small. She definitely didn't hit the weight limit to safely donate. "I thought you had to wait at least another year to give blood?"

"If I waited, you'd be dead."

Oh.

"You're welcome."

"I don't know how to thank you," Lance said quietly. He owed her his life, that was a debt he would never be able to repay.

"Don't. Anyone would have done the same."

The door slid open and Keith strode in, out of breath and hair a mess.

"How was your nap?" Pidge asked.

"I brought the pain drugs. Is he sleeping? Why is it so dar--" Keith made eye contact with Lance and froze.

"Shit," he whispered.

"Keith!" Shiro called from down the hall, he appeared in the doorway a moment later. "I told you to wait."

But Keith wasn't paying attention. His eyes locked on Lance, lower lip trembling. Suddenly he turned on his heel and all but ran out of the room.

"SHIT!" Lance could hear him scream into the hall.

Not exactly the reunion he expected.

Shiro heaved a tired sigh, "I'll be back."

* * *

It had been days, and Lance was getting antsy.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked Allura when she brought him breakfast one morning.

"Is what bad?"

"My face."

There was a reason all the mirrors were covered, that Shiro had tried to stop Keith from barging in, that when the others come to see him they wore curated expressions.

"Still got your looks, if that's what you're concerned about," Allura laughed, mussing his hair affectionately.

Lance tried to lean into and enjoy the rare casual touch Allura graced him with. But the feeling that they were hiding something from him wouldn’t leave him alone.

"Keith took one glance and bolted," Lance challenged. He hadn't been back either. That bothered him more than he cared to admit.

She smiled softly. "I believe he feels at fault for what happened to you."

Lance's memory was pretty hazy at best, but he seemed to remember Keith saving him. "What are you not telling me?"

Allura hummed thoughtfully.

"I'm going to find Shiro." She raised a hand at Lance's protests. "He can explain it better than I can. I'm afraid I don't quite understand how you earthlings work. He wanted to be the one to tell you anyways."

"You're scaring me."

“It’s been a very scary time for all of us,” she agreed as she slipped out the door.

When Shiro walked in a few moments later his mouth was set at a grim angle. "Hey, champ. How are you feeling?"

Lance shrugged. "Arm hurts. I'm stuck in this room because you won't let me out of bed. And everybody is hiding something from me."

That came out a lot harsher than he had meant it. But he was frustrated.

Shiro nodded somberly as he took a seat on the bed, facing him. "We should have had this talk earlier, I'm sorry. We wanted to give you a chance to get your strength back a little first. I understand your frustration, but I still stand by that decision."

Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think you know this, but we came so close to losing you. There was a stretch where we didn't think you would make it. "

"Hunk said Pidge nearly killed herself to save me."

"She gave more than she should have,” Shiro confirmed. “However, you needed more than she had to give. When it became clear she would bleed herself dry for you, we had to make a choice. Losing both of you was not an option."

Hunk had conveniently left out that bit.

"But neither was losing either of you. So, as your senior officer, I made a decision. A decision that should have been yours. But in the moment I was so scared of losing you that I didn't care. I am sorry I took away your choice. But understand that I do not regret my actions. The important thing is that you're still here, the rest is details."

Shiro looked down at his mechanical hand. Flexing his metallic palm open and closed a couple times. He reached behind Lance to undo his cape. As it fell off his shoulders, Lance braced himself for what he expected to be a nasty scar.

Only there was no scar.

Because there was no arm.

“There was no saving it,” Shiro whispered after a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

Lance could feel his heart rate quicken as his breaths became shallower. He lost his arm. They cut off his arm! How was he supposed to shoot?How was he supposed to pilot his lion? He couldn’t be a paladin anymore. He couldn’t even return to his life before, not with one arm.

“When you’re further along in the healing process, we’ll get you outfitted with a prosthetic,” Shiro continued. “Coran claims my Galra tech is too clunky and that Altean tech is much better suited for prosthetics.”

Oh yeah. Shiro had lost his arm as well. He seemed to be doing just fine. Alien technology for the win. When he dreamed of following in Shiro’s footsteps, this isn’t quite what he imagined.

He forced a smile that he didn’t feel. “We’re twins.”

“Now back to that choice I made.”

Lance felt his stomach drop. There was more?

"As I said, Pidge alone couldn’t save you. But she wasn't the only one aboard with an O negative blood type. But given that Keith’s not all human we didn’t know how your body would tolerate this blood. But when it became clear that you need more, what choice did I have? Watch you die? Or pump you full of alien blood and watch that possibly kill you faster? Or possibly live? At least you had a chance. So I gave the order. I didn’t even ask him.”

Was that why Keith couldn’t stand him? Because he stole his blood?

Shiro sucked in a big breath before slowly letting it go. “It saved your life, but there were…side effects.”

“Side effects?”

Shiro handed him a pocket mirror.

He caught a flash of yellow, glowing, pupil-less eyes from a familiar face.

“He turned me into a quiznacking Galra!”

Next Part -> my whumptober masterlist

#whumptober2024 #no.6 #not realizing they're injured #healed wrong #‘it’s not my blood’#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #fic #injury #amputation #limb loss #sukoshininja #whump #klance #this is another one I can see myself expanding into multiple chapters #fun fact for extra whump: both Lance and Shiro are A+ but Lance passed out before he could say so

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