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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

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fixation

words: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, reader has an oral fixation

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @dream-pink

“baby i’m running out to the store real quick, do you want anything?” rafe asks, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he walks through the living room where you’ve been for the past hour, book splayed open in your lap.

“a sucker please? cherry or strawberry preferably.” you answer, only half paying attention to your boyfriend as your eyes continue to skim over the text.

“sure thing baby.” rafe says, tucking his wallet into his back pocket before heading out.

time flies as you get engrossed in your book, barely feeling like you’re reading and more that you’re inside of the book, part of the story.

“i didn’t know which kind, so i kinda got a bunch.” rafes voice makes you jump, not even realizing that he had returned from the store as he dumps a bag of suckers on the couch cushion next to you. your eyes widen at the 10 different kinds he brought back for you. you eye the group and then pick out your favorite, but really you didn’t dislike any of them.

“thank you rafey.” you hum, accepting his kiss when he leans down and presses one to your lips.

“i’m gonna head to the gym out back, since you’re still reading. you need anything else?” rafe asks, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek. you’re so unlike any other girl he has gone for in the past, but it’s why he loves you so much. you are smart, but so innocent when it comes to certain things and he loves to teach you and bring out your wilder side.

“i’m good, thank you.” you say again, pressing another kiss to his lips before rafe is out the back door. you’re surprised how quiet tanneyhill is today, but you’ve learned for the most part that all the members of the cameron family spend their days elsewhere, with eloise and sarah still in school, and ward and rose working most of the day away.

you unwrap your sucker before returning your attention to the book, feeling so much calmer now that you have something in your mouth. you reach the climax of the book, fingers rapidly turning the page until you get to the resolution, and then ultimately the end of the book.

you take a deep breath, letting in all that air you were holding from when the dramatic scenes were unfolding before setting the book onto the coffee table. you turn to pick up another sucker before realizing that you had subconsciously kept getting more, and you now only had one left, the rest reduced to white sticks.

you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment even though no one is around, cleaning up your mess quickly but still unwrapping the sucker and sticking it in your mouth. you are just about to head out the gym, converted with weight machines and mirrors from a shed in the backyard, when rafe reenters.

“finished your book?” rafe asks, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, hair sticking to his forehead.

“mhm.” you nod. “it was really good, i’m gonna rate it 4 stars on storygraph later.”

“glad you liked it baby.” rafe comes up and kisses your cheek, considering your mouth is still occupied by the cherry sucker. “if you want to put the rest of the suckers in the candy cabinet, you can.” rafe says, referring to the one cabinet in the cameron home stocked full with junk food, from chocolate to greasy chips.

“i- um…” you trail off before pressing your lips together.

“what?” rafe asks, a slight smile on his lips, loving when you get flustered like this.

“i kinda ate them all. i didn’t even realize i just kept sucking.” you shrug, averting your gaze from rafe, so you miss the smirk that comes to his face.

“does anyone want any gum?” kelce asks, opening up the package and taking a piece for himself.

“oh my god, me!” you say, reaching out when kelce offers one to you, a slight look of confusion on the desperation in your voice as you stick the minty gum into your mouth and begin to chew.

“i’ve been going crazy not having something in my mouth.” you say, turning your attention to rafe as kelce refocuses on the game. you’re not the biggest basketball fan, you find it entertaining enough to always agree when rafes asks you if you want to come with him and the boys, but you don’t understand most of the calls the refs make and the loud screaming from the crowd hurts your ears.

“you’re so precious, baby.” rafe says, pressing a few kisses to your cheek, leaving you to scrunch your eyebrows together, not sure what you did to gain that reaction but certainly not complaining.

you crunch the gum between your teeth, much happier now that you can focus on that and drown out some of the noise as you lean into rafe, his arm moving to be placed securely around your shoulders, up until the game comes down to a final shot, whipped from halfcourt towards the basket as the timer counts down, the ball ultimately swishing through the rim, making the entire crowd jump to their feet as the team gets the buzzer beater.

“that was exciting!” you tell rafe as you head out of the building, your hand encapsulated in his. “thanks for letting me along on boys night.” you call to topper and kelce.

“happy to have you.” topper says with a friendly smile, making rafe tighten his grip on your hand slightly.

“do we have any popsicles?” you ask, fanning your face with your hand, the bright sun beating down on the boat.

“yeah, should be in the cooler in back.” rafe says, gesturing towards the back of the yacht as he continues to steer the boat to the place he wants to anchor for the day to fish.

“mmkay thanks.” you say, getting up off the captains bench, where you always sat with rafe so he could keep a close eye on you while he also paid attention to the water in front of him. “you want one?” “nah, thanks though baby.” rafe glances away for a moment to look at you, his eyes soft. “hurry back though.” you smile, knowing he’s only being so strict with you because he loves you. you rush to the back of the boat, digging into the cooler for a red popsicle before returning to take your place next to rafe.

“are you too hot? you should drink water too.” rafe says, placing one hand on your thigh while he steers the boat with the other.

“nah, just wanted something cool in my mouth.” you say, too focused on the sun glimmering off the water in front of you to notice that rafe has to readjust himself in his shorts.

“gonna try this spot first.” rafe says, slowing the boat to a stop. you get up and move to where you know he’s going to fish from. you used to offer to help anchor, but you know rafe would never let you get your hands dirty.

“are you good princess?” rafe asks once everything is done, fishing pole and tackle box in hand.

“all good.” you nod, already having gotten a second popsicle from the cooler.

“what is it?” rafe asks.

“huh?” you question, taking your thumb out of your mouth that you didn’t even realize you were sucking on until rafe spoke up.

“you keep sucking on your fingers and you’ve got that look in your eyes. are you nervous for something, doll?” rafe asks, his voice soft and genuine.

“midsummers.” you pout, making rafe tilt his head to the side. he’s such a confident man, especially in social situations. he’s charming and outgoing, meanwhile you prefer to keep to yourself and watch things from afar, but it’s impossible with rafe, he’s always the center of attention in any room, like all the lights shine on him.

“i’m gonna be with you the whole time.” rafe says, not even having to ask why you’d be nervous for the big party.

“i know, i still hate the idea of all those eyes on me.” you shudder, sticking your thumb back into your mouth to provide some comfort.

“if you need to leave, we can leave after making an appearance.” rafe says, knowing he’d get shit for not sticking around longer, but he doesn’t care, you come first, always.

“thanks rafey.” you say, slightly muffled by your thumb in your mouth.

“i love you, baby.” rafe leans in, pressing a kiss to your jaw before pulling you onto his lap, letting you relax against him, eyes fluttering close as the sucking on your thumb eventually slows as you fall to sleep curled up in his arms.

“can we stop and get some gum? or a sucker?” you ask rafe, hands nervously twitching in your lap.

“baby, we are on a tight schedule we can’t be making stops for candy.” rafe says with a sigh, wishing he could accommodate you, but he knew he’d be in a rush ever since he stayed in bed this morning for an extra fifteen minutes to cuddle and kiss you.

“barry is late all the time, i don’t even know why you have to be on time to meet him.” you complain.

“don’t be a brat.” rafe says, already stressed out. sure, barry is often late, but rafe has different expectations of himself, and if he says he’s going to meet barry at a certain time, you can be damn sure that he will be there on time, if not five minutes early.

you cross your arms over your chest, not bothering to hide your annoyance from your boyfriend.

“here, you just wanna suck on something, go ahead and suck on my finger.” rafe says, gripping the steering wheel with one hand while he shoves his finger towards your mouth.

you would say no, but that really is all you want, so you pull your knees up to your chest and rest rafes wrist against your knees, sticking his finger into your mouth, moaning slightly around it at the pure relief of having something to focus on while rafe speeds down the backroads.

you suck on his finger, swirl your tongue around it, even gently press your teeth down on it, all while rafe sits there, cock swelling in his jeans while he wishes it to stay down, not needing to greet barry with a hard on, especially when you’re so blissfully unaware of the effect your mouth is having on him.

“alright we are almost there.” rafe says, making you whine when he takes his hand away, again reaching down to adjust his crotch, not sure how much longer he can put up with this.

“can we go to the store and buy a sucker? or maybe get some ice cream?” you ask, hands pawing at rafes chest as you lay in bed.

“come on, i just wanna stay here all day.” rafe says with a yawn. you were both up late partying, but you were getting bored of just sitting in bed all day, even if you do like being pressed up against your boyfriend.

“give me your fingers again then.” you reach out for his hand, but rafe snatches it away.

“i have something else you can suck on.” rafe says, making your head quirk to the side, inquisitive.

“you trust me, right?” rafe says, which you of course eagerly nod to. you trust rafe more than anyone else, so when he raises his hips and lowers his sweatpants down his legs before kicking them off to the floor, you don’t feel the same nervousness that you usually do.

“you want me to… give you head?” you swallow thickly. “i told you i’ve never done it before.” you’ve had sex with rafe before, but the focus was always on you, how he could bring your body to pleasure, how he fit inside of you.

“i know, but you’re always wanting to suck on something.” rafe shrugs. “might as well suck on my dick. besides, i’ll teach you.”

“o-okay.” you nod, eyes flicking between meeting rafes gaze and his length, clearly obvious and straining against the fabric of his underwear.

“now, i’m already hard just because i always am being around you, but why don’t you explore a bit with your mouth over my underwear, hm?” rafe says. you nod, figuring the best thing to do if you felt nervous was following his directions, afterall, he hasn’t led you astray in the past.

you slide down the bed until you’re laid on your stomach between his legs. you start with kisses around his underwear, before planting one on his length, kissing down the shaft until you reach where you presume his head is. you flick your tongue out, giving an experimental lick that makes rafe moan, so you double down on your effort, pushing your tongue against the fabric, creating a wet spot.

“that-that feels really good.” rafe says, his voice so breathless, causing you to look up at him, his eyes glazed over with lust.

you take matters into your own hand upon seeing how turned on you’re making him. you always let him finger you, or eat you out, or fuck you to orgasm, but you’ve never done the same to him in return, mostly because you are inexperienced. so, you pull his underwear down suddenly, allowing his cock to spring up.

you don’t give yourself any time to feel insecure as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, making rafe curse and bring a hand down to grip your hair, but he doesn’t shove you down, knowing you’re not ready for that and will move at your own pace.

you rub your tongue against him, surprised by how much you like the taste as you try to move your mouth down some, to take more of him. you succeed for the most part until you have to pull off to take a breath.

“baby, when i cum you can pull off that way it doesn’t go all in your mouth.” rafe says, wanting to warn you now before he gets too wrapped up in the feeling of your warm tongue to forget his words.

“and what if i want you all in my mouth?” you question, sinking your lips around him again, trying to go deeper again before you start to suck, having had lots of practice with your suckers and popsicles. you may have never given head before, but you know to keep your teeth away from his sensitive skin, so you hope that means you’re doing a good job.

“breathe thr-fuck. breathe through your nose, baby, it’ll help.” rafe says, reminding you. you give a hum around his length in acknowledgement, making rafe let out another curse.

you try it again, sucking and then humming, sucking and then humming, and clearly from the look on rafes face, he likes the vibrations on his cock.

you pull off after a minutes, licking around the base of his cock and slowly moving up, wanting to taste every inch of him. you get back to the head and notice he’s leaking slightly out of his tip, which you quickly dart up with your tongue, making rafes hips raise up, pushing his cock against your tongue.

“you’re so fucking good at this.” rafe moans, one hand still gripping your hair while the other is fisted in the bedsheets, trying his best to hold back from shoving your head down onto his cock and fucking your mouth.

“i’ve got lots of practice with sucking things.” you giggle before taking him into your mouth again, bobbing your head as you suck, flicking your tongue over his head every time you pull back.

you decide again to try to take more of him into his mouth now that you’ve gotten more comfortable, but you swear rafe has swelled as you can’t take nearly as much as before.

“baby-i-close-i-” rafe stutters out, pushing your lips further, causing his cock to push into your throat as he releases to your tongue softly licking his length even you gag.

you feel rafe release, thick ropes of cum lining your insides as you swallow down repeatedly until he’s dry, completely milked free of cum. you pull off with a cough, rafes hands dropping limply to his sides.

“god, your mouth is amazing.” rafe moans.

you smile at the praise, glowing under his words. you look to the cock in front of you, now softening against his thigh.

“can we do that again?” you ask, quirking your head to the side.

“absolutely.” rafe nods. “once i recover. why don’t we get you a sucker until i can get hard again?”

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron one shot #obx fanfiction #obx fic

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natsaffection · 10 months ago

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Reward | N.R

MINORS DNI 18+!

Summary: Natasha is proud of her best player.

Warnings: g!p Natasha, kinda manipulative, desk sex, rough sex

Word count: 1,9k

A/n: first time writing g!p. It’s a little rushed, but that came suddenly in my mind 🧍🏻‍♀️

The halftime buzzer echoed through the gymnasium, signaling a break in the intense game. Natasha, clad in her coaching attire, surveyed the court with a stern expression. The tension in the air was palpable.

Natashas piercing gaze followed the players as they retreated into the locker room. Her team was trailing, and the urgency of the situation reflected in the crease of her brow.

As the players settled into the locker room, Natasha’s eyes remained fixed on you. A silent understanding passed between you both – Natasha knew that you were their last hope for a comeback. The weight of expectations rested squarely on the your shoulders, and Natasha’s intense stare conveyed the gravity of the moment.

Inside the locker room, the air was charged with anticipation. Natasha, standing at the center, addressed the team with a steely resolve. “This is our chance to turn the game around. We’ve got the skills, the talent, but we need to play as a cohesive unit. Y/n, you’re our linchpin. The team looks up to you, and we need your best performance out there.”

Her eyes bore into you, emphasizing the crucial role you played in the team’s destiny. Natasha delved into the intricacies of the revised strategy, urging the players to synchronize their movements and capitalize on their strengths. The locker room echoed with the intensity of Natasha’s words, each one a call to action.

You, absorbing Natasha’s gaze, felt the weight of responsibility but also a surge of determination. This was the moment to prove yourself, not just as an individual player but as the catalyst for the team’s resurgence. Natasha’s demanding coaching style became a beacon of inspiration rather than an obstacle, pushing the team to elevate their game.

As Natasha continued to outline the strategy, her eyes never wavered from you. It was as if she could see the potential waiting to be unleashed. The halftime break ended, and the team, led by Natasha, returned to the court with a renewed sense of purpose. The second half unfolded with precision and determination and your team executed Natasha’s strategy flawlessly.

Under Natasha’s watchful eye, you showcased her your exceptional skills with a fierce determination. Every move was calculated, every shot purposeful. The team rallied around you, the synergy evident in their coordinated efforts. The scoreboard gradually shifted in their favor, the gap closing with each passing minute.

Feeling the weight of Natasha's expectations, you drove towards the basket with a newfound determination. The opponents, sensing the shift in momentum, intensified their defense. Yet, you maneuvered skillfully, executing a flawless layup that brought the crowd to their feet. A quick glance towards Natasha revealed a subtle nod of approval, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal play.

However, the game was far from over. The opponents retaliated, scoring a basket that widened the gap. Natasha's stern expression betrayed a momentary tension – a coach acutely aware of the precarious situation. Her jaw tightened, and the lines on her forehead deepened as she contemplated the next move.

Gathering the team during a timeout, Natasha's voice cut through the air, firm and resolute. "We're running out of time, but we don't back down. Tighten your defense, trust the plays. Y/n, lead the charge. We're not letting them dictate this game."

Fueled by Natasha's unwavering belief you rallied the team. The court became a battleground, each possession a testament to their resilience. Natasha, though stoic, radiated a fierce determination that reverberated through the team.

In the closing minutes, you orchestrated a series of plays that saw the scoreboard narrowing the gap. Natasha, on the sidelines, displayed a subtle shift in demeanor – a mixture of anticipation and confidence. With seconds ticking away, you seized the moment, sinking a game-changing shot that tied the score.

The crowd erupted, and Natasha, unable to contain her pride, allowed a rare smile to grace her features. The final buzzer echoed, signaling a dramatic turnaround. As the team celebrated their hard-fought victory.

———

Natasha approached you with a subtle yet undeniable glint in her eyes, a mix of pride and something more enigmatic. The post-game euphoria lingered in the air, creating a charged atmosphere between coach and player.

"Y/n, that was an exceptional performance out there," Natasha commended, her voice carrying a rare warmth. "You truly stepped up when the team needed it the most."

Natasha's hand brushed against your shoulder, a subtle yet deliberate touch that sent shivers down your spine. With a glance towards her office, Natasha extended an invitation. "Why don't we discuss the game in more detail?“ You were too naive to understand her real intuition, so you just agreed. She is your coach after all, so what could go wrong?

As the two of you enter her office, Natasha walks ahead and you close the door behind you. She leaned against her desk, her gaze fixed on you with an intensity that surpassed the boundaries of a post-game analysis. The subtle hum of the air conditioner was drowned out by the unspoken tension between coach and player.

"Y/n," Natasha began, her voice a low murmur that seemed to draw you closer. "There's something about you on the court... a fire that's not easily extinguished. It's intriguing."

You, still caught in the afterglow of the victory, met Natasha's gaze with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. "Thank you, Coach. I just did what I thought was best for the team."

Natasha circled the desk, closing the distance between you both. "You did more than that. You showed a level of skill and determination that goes beyond the court. It’s rare."

The air in the room thickened as Natasha's fingers lightly traced the neckline of your jersey, a subtle yet deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine. Your heartbeat quickened, the unspoken tension taking a more palpable form.

"I see potential in you, not just as a player," Natasha whispered, her lips mere inches from your ear. "But as someone who understands the game beyond its rules."

Caught in the magnetic pull of Natasha's presence, you felt a swirl of emotions. Confusion, anticipation, and a hint of something more. Natasha's gaze bore into you, a silent invitation that transcended the boundaries of a typical coach-player relationship.

"C-Coach Romanoff," You began, the words catching in your throat as Natasha's proximity became more pronounced. "I'm not sure I understand..."

Natasha silenced you with a finger against your lips, her eyes locking onto theirs with a smoldering intensity. "Sometimes, Y/n, the best plays happen off the court," she murmured, her voice carrying a seductive undertone. "Let me show you a different kind of victory."

You look up at her innocently and she leans down to kiss you. As she continued, you felt her hand slide down to your pussy. She runs her hand over your panties and rubs her fingers further inside. She held onto your shoulders a little with her other hand so that you wouldn't squirm too much. “M-Mrs Romanoff, I don't think we-”

She continued until she could feel your wetness through your underwear, "It's pretty wet down here.." she whispers in your ear and now starts to knead your breast. She grabbed your nipple and twisted it between her fingers, her head still in your neck “Should I stop?” The action was already sending waves through your body and your body twitched, “I..D-Don’t know...." she twisted them more, "Do you want it or not? You decide.“

Her movements ran through your whole body. Even your fingers were starting to cramp, “Comon, Detka, Say 'please don’t stop'..” She let go of your nipple, but now pushed it into your breast and you twitched again. “p-please don’t stop! Do not stop.."

This turned Natasha more on. You give your complete control only to her. She smelled your neck and licked it, “Say 'I want you’. ” Your head was so covered that you didn't even know what you were actually saying, “I-I want you..”

Now she let go of you completely and you staggered briefly to find your feet and stand again. She took a step back and took off her leather jacket, “Good girl.”

She walks you back and pushes you against her desk. She holds your waist, lifts you up and sits you on her table. She stands between your legs and her hands caress your soft thighs.

She kisses you again, moving her hands further up. She grabs your ass, pulls you a little closer and lets her cock rub against you. You moan into her mouth and pull away. You put your hands behind you and brace yourself on her desk. She continues to rub herself against you, her eyes scanning your body. She moans and pulls away, quickly pulling your panties to the side. She kisses you as she slides her finger into your pussy.

Your eyes close as she begins to slowly pump her fingers in and out of you. You gasp as she curled a finger inside you. But then she lifts you off her desk, turns you around, and presses your chest flat against the desk. She spreads your legs, bends down and presses her chest onto your back.

There was a slight rustle as Natasha opened a packet of condoms and slipped it over her member and then she pressed herself against you, cursing and cursing under her breath. You let out a breathy moan at the penetration, pushing yourself back onto hers. "God, you're so tight..." Natasha hissed as she was fully inside your vagina.

She didn't start gently and wait for you to get used to it, she immediately started hitting you roughly. Within moments you were moaning and panting wantonly, your body almost melting into the table. “Mrs R-Romanoff!”

She moaned in agreement, your knuckles already white from gripping the edge of the desk so tightly. Natasha began rocking you, first with small, hard thrusts, then longer and deeper. She changed positions a few times until she managed to hit your perfect spot, causing stars to appear in your vision.

The desk creaked and rocked under the force of her thrusts, and you were sure someone could probably hear the rhythmic tapping of the desk, but that only added to the whole excitement. “That’s it, make some pretty noises for me.” The dark sound of her voice echoed through your body, sending your racing brain into hyperdrive.

Every time her hips slammed into you, you felt white, hot ecstasy pouring from your core and coursing through your entire being. You couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers that fell from your lips, no matter how much you wanted them to.

“Such a good fuck toy,” she purred, burying a hand in your hair and tugging painfully. “Taking my cock so good.” Suddenly and violently, she jerked your head up so that her lips touched your ear. "Since you've had so much practice lately, I’ll give you a little reward.”

You arch your back and scream, "F-Fuck!" felt a lot of joy and couldn't hold back your salivation any longer. She stares contentedly at your drooling face, knowing that she is the only one who has the privilege of fucking you senseless. “Fuck yes, baby, cum for me. Cum on that damn cock!” she grits her teeth as she penetrates you. She feels your tight little hole begin to twitch around her and doesn't let up, feeling you buck your hips against her. “I think I c-can’t, I can’t...”

“Yes you fucking can, baby, let go..Lose control for me..” She pumps into you faster, getting dangerously closer to her own release. “You can do it, baby, just fucking let go!”She throws her head back and rubs circles on your clit with her thumb as she relentlessly drills your pussy. “Fuck yes!!”

“I-I’m coming-“She grabbed your neck and pulled your face towards hers. She brutally claims your pretty little mouth, swallowing your screams as you cum hard on her cock.

#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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kheprriverse · 9 months ago

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Some more replying!

Ty so much!! I wanna reply to this one to answer the Aryll question.

Also they’re both sisters; I don’t think its too necessary to change Aryll all that much if at all! I don’t think it’d change her character either way (regardless of subverting expectations) but I’d like to focus on the bond between them as sisters. I’d be very willing to hear opinions/feedback tho since everything is still a wip atm.

Also some more info under the cut, since this got sorta long? I wasn’t really expecting to keep going on the topic, but below is more about Delta and a bit of my thoughts.

Delta is transfem -> struggling with her identity for quite a while but the journey to save her sister (and then Tetra. And then maybe the HW arc?) somewhat helped her keep it in the back of her mind. Temporarily. Aryll was much more important to her at the time than her own needs. The Delta we’ll see is very happy with where she (and her sister) is now.

We have heroes struggling with their role in hyrule, family situations, love situations, building/rebuilding kingdoms, etc. I like to think having at least one Link being at peace with their life in the moment (and possibly the future) and not having doubts about themselves/others would be nice, especially with it being Delta. I think out of all of them, even as young as she is, she’d be the most likely candidate. She’s living the pirate life with her pirate gf sailing the high seas and hunting down ghost ships and treasure. That sounds like a dream to me, what more could she want?

I don’t even think Ko’jin knows where he belongs and he’s thousands of years old LOL (he has a pretty good excuse tho so I don’t blame him all that much)

I didn’t expect to go on about this so hopefully its not too much considering this was just supposed to be about Aryll. I just really like Delta and WW :’D

Hero of Winds, Delta.

Finally got myself to restart on my redesign of WW Link. She's been on my mind for so long now and I can't wait to draw her more!

-> Support me on ko-fi!

#reblog #i’m going off the walls again #she’s very good at making instant decisions. which you have ti when running a ship and crew.#any sorta hesitation/decision can change an entire situation - for better or worse #but i think it definietely shows in her combat and conflict resolution #like yea she makes mistakes (its bound to happen especially with quick thinking) but she’s still very reliable #also ab kojin: his private/family life gets kinda interupted when majora basically says ‘fuck you. bedtime’ and puts him into a comatose sta #link (ww) is around 14-ish in my au. but after HW would maybe be 15-16 depending on if I ever include PH (ive never played it so idk)#<- tho all this is subject to change while i (mentally) structure stuff #today is infodump friday i’ve decided #i was gonna reoly to a second one but this ended up longer than i intended 🤣

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leth-writes · 4 months ago

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I'm so happy to see someone writing for twilight it really doesn't get the love it deserves.

This is weirdly specific, so bear with me.

Can I request Paul (twilight) x reader who's Jacob's ex-girlfriend, and they had like a really messy brake up so they REALLY don't like each other and so Paul and jacob get onto a fight about it.

Thanks for your time I've really been enjoying reading your work❤️❤️❤️

hello, lovely anon!

Usually I do shorter pieces for requests, but I kinda blacked out and wrote 2000 words for this... Sorry?

Please enjoy!

It was quiet, without Jacob. The two of you had been dating for over a year, before suddenly all he could think of was Bella, Bella, Bella. She was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. You didn’t mind the two of them being friends, you weren’t jealous and you didn’t believe the rumors spreading at school, but you still wanted to SEE him! You loved him, for god’s sake! But no, Bella was sad or Bella was tired or Bella wanted to go exploring and suddenly, he had no time for you.

It had been weeks since you’d last truly spoken beyond a quick 20 minute phone call every time you tried to hang out. In fact, you decided, today was the last day. It was the last day you would grovel and beg for his attention. This was it; if he didn’t agree today, you were done. He could go date Bella for all you cared.

You stomped down the stairs, your socked feet hitting against the soft white carpet, and skidded into the tiled kitchen. The grey light streamed in, illuminating the phone like a halo. It was fitting for something that would determine the fate of your relationship.

Angry, yet hopeful, you strode forward and picked up the phone, resolutely dialing Jacob’s number and waiting as it rang.

Finally, someone picked up. “Hello?” Jacob called, sounding groggy.

“Hey, Jake! I was thinking, we should spend some time together! It’s been a hard couple of weeks, and I haven’t seen you at all!” You said, anger draining and hope filling your chest, suddenly feeling weak at the knees. God, you’d missed his voice. “Can’t, Bella and I are going to try and build the motorcycles. You know she’s been having a hard time recently, and I think I’m really helping!” He responded, sounding distracted and far from the phone.

The hope shattered like ice, cutting up your insides. “Jake, we haven’t hung out in 3 weeks. I could really use my boyfriend today,”. Even to your own ears, your voice was pleading. It sounded weak and brittle, like you were fragile, not the strong front you’d tried to put on for him.

He sighed, voice crackly through the receiver. “Listen, you know Bella hasn’t been doing so well, and I’m the only thing that makes her feel better. You can’t expect me not to go out with her, just because you’re feeling a bit lonely…” His voice was exasperated and distant, like he was already done with the conversation.

Suddenly, that anger came roaring back, licking up the sides of your chest and burning away at your heart. You felt yourself trembling with rage, with despair, at the way he was talking to you.

“No, you listen, Jacob! I’m done! If you aren’t going to see me, if you’re going to prioritize Bella, then you can go stay with her! I never want to see your stupid, selfish face ever again, you fucking asshole!” You practically shouted, slamming the phone down. You whirled around, nose practically bellowed steam, and stomped to the couch, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. You’d show him, you’d go out and have fun all by yourself and prove you didn’t need such a shitty boyfriend anyways!

It’d been a month since you last talked to Jacob, and while the breakup hurt, you were glad you’d ended the relationship when you had. Looking back, the thought of hanging on was depressing; you’d reconnected with your friends in the past month, going out practically every day and hanging out anytime it got too rainy to go to La Push. You hadn’t seen Jacob or Bella around, and you could honestly say you were happy to not have to so much as think about them anymore. It wasn’t your business.

It was the perfect day to go La Push, and your friends were already there when you pulled into the parking lot. It was overcast, no real sign of rain, and a gentle, cool breeze was drifting through. The beach was covered in large rocks, not really meant for swimming, but perfect for drinking and just listening to music and gossiping, and that’s exactly what you did.

Until, of course, they arrived. Jacob had been sure they were a blossoming gang, but you hadn’t been so sure. You’d never really spoken to them but Billy had thought they were good kids, just a bit… odd. Yet, now, seeing them on the beach, you could understand where Jacob would’ve gotten that misconception. Sam and his friends were massive, Sam himself standing at almost 6’6” by the looks of it and the shortest member, the boy with the dimpled chin, cleared 6’0” easily. They were heavily muscled, each wearing cargo shorts and shirtless, and were rough-housing as they walked, bumping into each other and shoving each other as they approached your small group. The loudest of the boys, the one with the intense expression and the loud voice, shoved the smallest and laughed boisterously. Then, he looked over. And he made eye contact with you.

And he stared.

And stared.

Eventually, you grew uncomfortable, shifting uneasily on the small picnic blanket you were sitting on as you looked away, toward Sam. He was pulling the loud boy to the side, harshly whispering as the boy kept eye contact. You leant over to your friend, quietly asking which boy was which. You listened as she pointed them out; the one staring at you was Paul, and he was dangerous. You gulped, once again looking away and out toward the shoreline.

“Hey, mind if we join you guys?” Sam asked, approaching with his group and staring at you. The others also looked exclusively at you, though not as intensely as Paul, as though your answer was the only one that mattered. Shivering, suddenly cold, you nodded and looked down. “Hey, at least they’re hot,”one of the girls in your group muttered, and the tension was broken. You burst into laughter, snorting as you held your sides. At least you weren’t feeling uncomfortable anymore, even if you did feel a little dorky. You glanced up through your lashes and Paul was still staring, though less intensely, a soft gleam in his eyes and a small, genuine smile on his lips.

That was the beginning of your relationship with Paul.

You woke up to loud pounding on your front door. Racing down the stairs, you skidded to a stop in the front hall, making eye contact with Bella. Fucking Bella Swan was at your door at 6 in the morning, pounding furiously and looking like death warmed over. You sighed, resigned to not getting to sleep in on a Saturday, and opened the door slowly.

“There’s something wrong with Jacob!” Bella exclaimed. She looked haggard, eyes ringed with deep purple bags and pale skin looking almost translucent. Her hair was ragged and greasy, hanging limply around her wan face, clothes baggy and dirty. She looked like shit. Maybe Jacob broke up with her?

“Okay, and why does that involve me?” You said, leaning against the door jamb and staring off into the distance, squinting at the pale morning light.

“You’re his girlfriend, he’s bound to listen to you!” She cried, thin clammy hand clutching at your wrist as she tried to tug you toward her red rustbucket of a truck.

You remained unmoved, now glaring at her. “No, Bella, I’m not his girlfriend, we haven’t been together for over a month, and I haven’t seen him in over a month and a half. He spent all his time with you; why would he listen to me now?”

She paused, hearing the hurt hidden in your voice and glancing up into your eyes for the first time all morning.

“Wait… you broke up? But Jacob loves you!” She said, voice weaker than before, almost a whisper.

“Yeah, well, he cared about you more. But, I guess if he’s in trouble, fine. What do you need me to do?”

Jacob’s yard looked exactly the same as you remembered it. That made you feel oddly sad, like you’d subconsciously expected it to reflect Jacob’s sadness at you leaving. Yet, it remained the same, just as it was before you’d ever come into his life. Had you really had such a small impact?

Bella was already out of the truck, running toward Paul and the others as they sauntered toward the house from the tree line. You sprinted to keep up, knowing she was going to say something and futilely trying to prevent it. When you reached them, she had shoved Paul and was accusing the boys of hurting Jacob, whatever that meant. Paul was shaking, literally trembling, as his muscles jumped and leapt under his skin. It looked like his skin was… moving as he puffed in effort. “Paul?” you tentatively approached, drawing closer as he leant over, panting as his shoulders jerked. “Shit!” Sam cursed, leaping forward to pull you back and away from Paul. You kicked and struggled as he picked you up, trying to get back to Paul. Couldn’t they see he was sick?!

Suddenly, Paul was gone, and in his place was… a giant wolf. It was like he’d been cut out of the world and replaced. What had happened to Paul?

“Bella!” Jacob shouted, vaulting over the porch fence. His skin seemed to split open, replacing by rapidly growing fur, and his face elongated as his nose broke and became discolored. By the time he hit the ground, he was a wolf. Were you hallucinating? You felt faint, leaning heavily against Sam, who shifted to support your weight and drag you away from the fight. Both wolves were now circling each other, growling and barking, trying to nip at each other's flanks. You felt like you were receding from your body, like you weren’t real. Everything felt far away, and your ears rang. Then, you passed out and went limp.

You jerked awake with a gasp almost as soon as Sam caught your full weight, shifting to lift you up into his arms.

“Paul!” he called, and the wolf who had replaced Paul looked over, eyes wide and sad as he saw your trembling form. Then, the wolf was gone and Paul was standing in its place, quickly pulling on clothes as Embry passed a pair of shorts to him. He cursed lowly and jogged over, grabbing you from Sam’s arms and holding you close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, like a prayer.

He sent you down gently, still holding you close to his chest, enveloping you in his soft warmth as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. The world went quiet and all was right, until Jacob interrupted the two of you by shoving Paul.

“Get the fuck away from her, you piece of shit!” He yelled out, punching Paul hard in the nose and causing a spurt of blood to leak out. Paul cursed again and spat out a mouthful of blood, growling lowly. “You don’t get to say that, asshole! You broke her heart, you have no right to tell her what to do!” Paul returned, standing his ground as Embry and Jared tried frantically to stop the fight from continuing.

“That doesn’t mean you can put her in danger!”

“I didn’t! She didn’t know until your little girlfriend came along and started shit!” Paul bellowed, gesturing at Bella, who was shrinking into herself behind Jake.

“Don’t bring her into this! This is about your shitty control, Paul! Don’t blame Bella for you not being able to handle a little pressure!”

“Stop!” Sam said, getting in between the two. “Jacob, you go blow off some steam. Don’t come back until you’re calm. And Paul…” Sam continued, trailing off as everyone looked at you. “Just… Just explain everything, okay?” He said, sighing and rubbing his forehead to fight away the growing headache.

Paul turned to you, opening his mouth to speak.

And that was the day you learned about shifters.

#twilight x reader #paul lahote x reader #jacob black x reader #lethwrites

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loveindefinitely · 11 months ago

Text

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

03 — MY COMPASS, MY TRANSPORT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I have nothing else to live for.”

It’s a truth. A deep, earnest one – and it’s the only option you have.

Without Graves, without your Shadows, you have nothing. No income, no family, no support. You're left with the clothes on your body and the shoes in which you stand, with no hope of finding your footing.

In the darkness, the only light shines from the headlights of the truck, and the red of the radio. It’s silenced, of course, but it serves as a beacon of something between you all.

“I don’t – I have no other choice,” you say, voice trembling. You would not break in front of them, but you could feel yourself cracking; porcelain underneath a harsh grip. Turning yourself so you’re completely facing the two, your expression turns desperate. “I want to help you both, and I want to save Phi– Graves.”

You correct yourself at the final moment, wary of your slip up.

“Save ‘im? From what? Feckin’ charges for war crimes? Getting his ass handed to ‘im?” Soap chokes out, incredulous, eyes wide where they meet yours. He winces when he moves forward too quick, straining his arm.

“He’s…” You look down at your hands, merely watching for a moment as they close into a fist and open again. Blood crusts underneath your fingernails. “He’s all I have. I’m sure he just needs a wake up call, someone to snap him out of it.”

“He tried to kill us,” Ghost speaks up, matter-of-fact, but quiet. As if at any moment, his words will wake up the entire city. If there were any civilians left in it, you supposed. Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“...And I had to kill some of my men.”

It’s a confession of sin. Like poison on your tongue, yet at the same time, an anecdote to an evil in your veins. You’d killed your men. You’d… done that.

You still haven’t quite allowed yourself to realise it, not yet.

But if it’s enough to keep you alive right now, so be it. You hadn’t gotten this far just to give up over something as inconsequential as pride.

“Ye will tell us everything you know about ‘im. And’ll help us until we figure out what to do. We’re our own bosses now, Sweetheart,” Soap commands, that fucking nickname of his seeming to stick. You don’t dispute it – not right now, not when this is quite literally life or death.

“I promise,” you say, resolute and stern. There was no time for self-pity or wallowing, only time for action and conviction – something you had in spades. “I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

You hadn’t known how true those words would be – not then, and not for a good while. But they were a prophecy, if such a thing could at all be possible for a woman like you.

Soap and Ghost share a look; a brief, yet important one, before Ghost gives the Scot a short nod. Soap turns once more to you, his face betraying the answer of their silent agreement.

“...So?” You suggest, impatient considering the consequences of the next few moments.

Bringing a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, Soap makes an act of pretending to ponder – and it succeeds in stoking the flames at your core, fury burning through you like a liquor-soaked rope.

“I dunno, lass,” he says on a sigh, his ocean eyes betraying a mischief in their depths. “Yer kinda mean to me.”

You might choke him.

Actually, check that, you will choke him. He’s impossible – an arsehole to the nth degree – somehow worse than Ghost in his… foolishness? Was that the right word? Or just straight frustrating-ness?

Seeming to sense your thinning patience, Soap’s hand falls from his jaw with a mirthful smirk, proud of himself.

“If ye say pretty please, ye can join our lil’ duo.” He finishes the statement off with a wink, and you don’t realise that your hands have curled into fists until the sharp pain of nails digging into your palms force you to resort back to your senses.

You let out a slow, loud breath.

Neither of them move a muscle, except for the twitch of Soap’s dimple. You hate that you recognise such a small movement, but you easily blame it on the fact that it’s a drilled-in mentality.

“...Please,” you acquiesce, however quiet.

Ghost’s eyebrow raises. How you’re aware of that, considering his mask, is a props to him.

“That’s not what he asked for.” His voice is a low, husky thing, and the title of guard dog suddenly doesn’t sound so incorrect.

With your teeth gritted and cheeks straining, you mutter out, “Pretty please.”

Soap’s responding smile is nothing short of beaming, and you almost immediately wish that you could take those words back. Was death really so bad? Would it even be a mercy, compared to deciding to share a threadbare camaraderie with these weirdos?

Too bad time control isn’t exactly a well-researched military weapon.

“Let’s go then,” Ghost slaps his gloved hand against the steering wheel, before looking one last time towards you with purpose, “Sweetheart.”

Soap laughs.

You get out and slam the door in his face.

“Och! You feckin’ bastard, lass,” you hear him screech, before the door opens once more and Soap hops out, fuming.

Turning away, you fall behind Ghost, and quickly take a look around at the vast, empty area that is barren suburbia. Not before responding, however.

“Next time you get shot, I’m not taking care of your ass,” you threaten. “And I’m giving the rest of my sweets to Mr. Melodramatic.”

Soap’s returning mock gasp is, in all fairness, pretty comedic. “You have more sweets? Gimme those and ye lovely bedside manners ‘nd I’ll get a cavity!”

Your returning glare could cut steel. “Keep that up, and you’ll end up with bigger issues than a cavity.”

“I think ye are already the bigger issue,” Soap snaps back, but it’s not inherently malicious. It’s… borderline playful, and that sudden thought has you internally slapping yourself.

“Both of ya – quiet,” Ghost warns.

You both shut up immediately.

With wary steps, the three of you go to step up towards the front door, when Ghost swings out a hand, stopping the lot of you in your tracks. The night doesn’t allow for any of you to see well, but he must’ve picked up something that you hadn’t.

The thought is an immediately terrifying one.

“Pressure plates,” Soap murmurs under his breath, eyeing the square linoleum tile. “Nice catch, Lt.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead motioning for you to follow him towards a glassless window. Gravel crunches underneath your light footfalls, easily heard in the deathly quiet, as you move to swing your leg over the access point and drop to the floor inside.

Landing with a soft thud, you go to unfurl from your crouching position, before a loud warning shout from Ghost has you freezing.

Flinching where you stand, your eyes dart to where Ghost has flung one of his daggers, the sharp metal splintering a wooden beam further into the dark room. Realising that Soap sits at your flank, you shift your gaze to spot a red light focused in on his forehead – between his eyes.

“¿Quien esta ahi?” An unfamiliar, accented voice calls out from behind the beam. You could slap yourself for being so careless, in not realising that someone else was in here before Ghost had saved your arses.

“Rodolfo!” Soap calls out, relief flooding his tone as he rights his position, shoulders back.

A man peeks out from behind the wood, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before they soften at the sight of the two men behind you. “Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

Stepping out from around the beam, he reaches for Ghost’s dagger, pulling it away from where it had dug into the oak with undeniable ease. His appearance is striking, with a set jaw and gentle features – he’s quite pretty, but not at all in a way that you find yourself attracted to the man.

“Affirmative,” Ghost responds, accepting the knife back when the man – Rodolfo – hands it to him hilt-first.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rodolfo smiles, before his appraisal sets on you, confusion sparking in his deep brown eyes. He looks to the two men at your side for an explanation, hesitant in the way he does so.

“This is…” Soap trails off, before coming to a realisation. “Feckin’ hell. I never even asked for yer name, Sweetheart.”

Rodolfo blinks. Once, twice, before his eyebrows furrow and his mouth settles into an uncomfortable grimace.

You shoot a glare Soap’s way, before gifting Rodolfo a polite, yet stilted, smile. Extending your hand, you give him your name, and then your official title.

“Colonel? Graves’ colonel?” Rodolfo repeats back, utterly taken aback by such an introduction. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, quickly hissing to Soap in unamused Spanish, “¿Has perdido la cabeza?”

“I saved his life,” you interrupt, before any verbal sparring begins. “And I’m on your team. I don’t agree with what Graves is doing – and I’m sorry for what he’s already done. But I want to help you. I swear.”

Rodolfo regards you for a moment, his internal walls still heavily locked in place. But he seems… softer, now, in a way. More understanding, maybe, less hesitant as he slowly appraises you, inspecting you under his critical analysis.

The silence stretches, before the soldier raises his hands placatingly, the left side of his mouth twitching into a smooth smirk. “No accusations from me, Corazón,” he reassures, the pet name sliding from his full lips like butter over warm toast.

“Aye, none of tha’,” Soap warns, and Rodolfo’s amusement deepens. Whatever the Scot is about to say next is abruptly stopped by Ghost’s booming demand from behind you both.

“Anyone outside of these walls is now considered a hostile – we’re a team now. This happened under my watch, and I’d bloody well do good to fix it.” His posture is stiff, hand unconsciously flexing around the blade strapped to his belt as he delivers the order. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one shot.

You figure he’s stopped speaking, when suddenly his heavy gaze is on you, any ounce of solidarity snuffed out like a match’s flame. “You fuck up once, Sweetheart, and I won’t hesitate when I shoot ya dead.”

It’s as good of a compromise as you’re going to get from the hulking Lieutenant, but you weren’t made Colonel for your talents in stepping down.

“You forget that I outrank you,” you challenge, chin raised and eyes flinty. “And that I saved your mutt.”

“We don’t have a feckin’ dog,” Soap starts, but when he sees the way Ghost side eyes him, and how you give him an unimpressed look, his jaw drops. “Ye bastard! Shoulda killed ya –”

Rodolfo’s hand wraps around Soap’s forearm, the grumbling man twisting in his hold, but not putting up anything close to a fight. “She’s just stirring you up, hermano,” Rodolfo placates, his large eyes meeting yours with a hint of respect in them. It has you straightening your spine, and your resolve.

“We sort this out as equals,” you state, folding your arms over your chest and bucking your hip. Ghost doesn’t, for a single second, shift your mutual eye contact. “And you will all tell me what the fuck’s going on – and what we’re doing.”

“Alejandro,” Ghost quips, sharp and to the point. Finally, you think, his near-black eyes drift to Rodolfo. “We need him back.”

“He’s the only other lad we can trust out there,” Soap adds, his pout easing slightly. Rodolfo finally drops his hand, clapping it hard against the petulant man’s shoulder with a firm nod.

“Already got a head start, hermanos,” he gestures for the three of you to follow him further into the room, before his calculating eyes glance back at you, “y hermana.”

It’s an unknown, entirely different feeling that erupts inside of your chest at the inclusion. Rodolfo was clearly the most soft spoken man of the three, but he had an intelligence to him that you couldn’t wait to unpack. And he trusted you. Or so you had gathered, anyway.

However.

First things first.

“...Where’s Alejandro? I thought he was Mexican Special Forces?” It was, admittedly, a unique kind of embarrassing – how out of the loop you felt, considering you were a colonel under Graves’ command. You’d heard the man’s name before, but it was usually just paired with barracks gossip and warnings to steer clear. Some joke about how the only one who could kill Alejandro, was the soldier himself.

Moving along with Rodolfo, you’re surprised when it’s Soap who supplies you the answer.

“Your fuckwit of a Commander’s got ‘im,” he curses, the words grating and harsh. Deserved, of course it was deserved, yet it was still odd hearing such disrespect for the man of whom you’d idolised for so long.

Of whom you’d given everything.

Switching a light on, Rodolfo stops in front of a large table, a map laid out across the top of it. Your eyes go wide at the intricacies – focusing as the man leans over and presses a finger towards a highlighted spot, watching the three of you where you stand on the other side. Dust floats near the source of the lamp, and the scent of grime hits you a moment later, a familiar thing.

“Graves is holding him here,” Rodolfo explains, his previously mischievous expression settling into a firm, military-grade frown.

“His own personal black site prison,” Soap scoffs, subconsciously flexing his fingers around the straps of his vest. His focus is utterly devoted to the map in front of him, but his anxiety shows itself through the tiniest of movements.

Rubbing his spare hand down his face, Rodolfo lets out a long, strewn-out sigh. “My men are locked in there, too.”

“Then let’s get them back,” you supply with a small shrug when all eyes shoot your direction.

“That’s obvious, lass,” Soap says, lacking any hint of his previous vitriol when he looks around the room. “How we get ‘em back is the question.”

“By breaking in,” Ghost answers, the retort as simple as breathing.

If you weren’t so receptive to body movements, to the smallest of expressions, you’d’ve missed it. Even then, you doubted that anyone could miss how Soap’s eyes soften when he looks to his Lieutenant, how his breath softly hitches in his throat.

You want to claw out your eyes with a rusty spoon.

By the look on Rodolfo’s face, he feels much the same – until he catches you staring, and then his face twists into something much more cryptic. Like a man trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces, being forced to jam spares into spots that just won’t fit.

“We need weapons,” you startle out, the words surprising even yourself. You don’t go back on them, don’t even think to. “If we want to stand a fighting chance – we need firepower.”

“Who said you’re with us?” Ghost questions snarkily, but when you go to reply, you find that Rodolfo’s moved to the corner of the room, switching on even more lights, displaying a wrought iron door.

Sliding it open, you feel like a kid on Christmas morning as you take note of the supplies within.

Rodolfo shrugs, but the small, smug grin on his face doesn’t dispel. “It’s well-stocked. This is Ale we’re talking about.”

The affectionate nickname is something you store away for later. ‘Well-stocked’ is certainly an understatement – guns of all types line the walls within the room, all types of bombs and grenades along with it.

“Alright,” Ghost huffs out, the closest to appreciative that a man like him can get.

Soap is much more upfront about his joy. “My man!” He laughs, his dimples etched into his features like the light spattering of freckles over his upper cheeks and nose bridge. “We’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armoured.”

Digging into his pocket, Rodolfo pulls out a set of keys, tossing them over to Ghost with relaxed shoulders. Turning, shock must be evident on all of you, because Rodolfo lets out a low chuckle. “Your wish is my command, hermanos y hermana.”

To the far end of the room, within the adjoined stables, is a fully-armoured forward drive of some sort – sleek and black and fucking perfect.

“Alejandro thought of everything,” Ghost admires, and when you look to him, you swear that you can see a hint of hope shining in his darkened eyes. Your heart skips a beat on its own accord, and you’re absorbed by the all-consuming want to pull it out of your chest with your bare hands, just so it never does such a thing again.

“Yeah, he did,” Soap whistles, before turning back around to face your small band of misfits. With a determined grin, he says as if it’s an afterthought, “Let’s go get ‘im.”

With a stern resolve and an even sterner disposition, you walk alongside your newfound teammates, and get ready for the most difficult mission of your military career.

When you’d, stupidly, recklessly, decided to play good guy and helps out the 141 and Los Vaqueros, you hadn’t taken into account how you’d be at the bottom of the totem pole.

While the three men you were working alongside were all considerably close, you were an outsider. At that, an outsider who had, only a few hours ago, decided to swap sides from enemy to ally.

Being paired with Ghost is, arguably, the most gut-wrenching job in your life. By the time that Rodolfo finds Alejandro through the CCTV system, you’re nearly entirely covered in dried blood, and your head thumps with a headache.

Not a headache from war – a headache from the fucking twat with a shitty DIY job for a military get-up.

“You’re seriously the worst,” you grit out, wiping off a bit of Shadow blood that’s been sprayed on your cheek. “I seriously can’t fucking believe that any one of your mates can tolerate you.”

“Who needs ‘mates’ when I have my boys?” Ghost quips back, wiping off his bloody dagger onto his vest, before slotting it back into its rightful position on his belt. His ability to blend into the night, even with the prison lights on, is uncanny – the only tell the white of his stitched-in skull.

You mock a disgusted sound, sticking out your tongue. “You sound like a fuckboy.”

“A what?” And, although it sounds nothing like a choke, you’re sure that it’s an instinctual question.

The sound of a helicopter up ahead has the two of you pausing in your tracks, feud coming to a quick halt. Looking up, you struggle to see the vehicle in the black of night, but you manage to spot the slowly circling heli above the prison.

“Ghost, Sweetheart, what’s yer status?” Soap’s voice trickles in through your comms. Ghost glances at you, before he answers on your behalf, ever the control-freak.

“Comin’ your way.”

Falling into step side-by-side, you focus on the wet gravel underneath your feet, avoiding making any communication with the man to your right.

“Copy. We’re on the move,” Soap replies, before Rodolfo cuts in.

“Heads up on the helo,” he warns. You find that you much prefer him over the other two – in fact, under any other circumstance, you could see the two of you becoming good friends. Maybe, if everything goes well, that could be a possibility – a positive in your world of negatives.

“Don’t think we’re in his line of sight,” you respond, double-checking your route and the helicopter's position in the sky. Rodolfo had warned you all, debriefing in the drive here, that helicopters would likely show up at some point.

Minutes pass, with small comms between the lot of you, when you finally spot the familiar figures belonging to the other half of your precarious team.

Soap and Rodolfo stand at the entrance, before the two turn at the sound of your and Ghost’s footsteps. They both seem to visibly loosen their stiff shoulders, seeing you both uninjured – and if you do the same, you pray that no one notices.

“The door’s locked,” Soap informs you all, gesturing to the steel entrance5.

With a small hum, Rodolfo reaches for the pack on his vest. “We’ll need to breach it,” he explains, but before he can grab a charger, Ghost raises a hand to stop him.

“No, Rudy –” And that is a nickname that you’ll be using later, “Knock.”

Rodolfo seems apprehensive, but he agrees anyway, giving all three of you separate glances. “On me…”

All of you getting into readying positions, Rodolfo knocks on the door, the sound echoing loud enough to have your blood pounding in your ears.

A moment later, a Shadow – one you don’t recall having met – pushes open the door and moves to step outside. However, Rodolfo and Ghost are quick to neutralise him, softly dropping his body to the floor.

Pushing through the entrance, everyone except for you shoot a Shadow dead – clearing the room in less than twenty seconds. It’s impressive, how smoothly run the operation is, considering the lack of proper authority or guidance.

You’re the first to spot some more Shadows moving your way, down the stairs – calling it out. “More Shadows from the second floor – watch out!”

This time, you find yourself the cause of two men falling to the ground, blood pooling underneath their lifeless bodies. Your team doesn't give you time to second guess, to mourn, before they’re encouraging you to follow them up the stairs.

“Ale’s up here, let’s go!” Rodolfo urges, his voice bordering on a kind of desperation reminiscent of a boy enlisting for the first time.

Like expected, Alejandro’s cell is down the hall, sat to the far right. Two Shadows guard the steel door, but Soap and Rodolfo are quick to light them up, successfully clearing the entire two floors. You’re ashamed of how relieved you feel, being gifted the small mercies of not having to kill your previous subordinates, unless necessary.

You feel, more than see, Ghost’s heavy gaze on you. When you look back up from the gun in your hands, however, he’s turned completely away – and if you were a less accurate person, you’d have thought you were imagining things.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.” Stopping at the steel door, Rodolfo adjusts his grip on the gun, before giving you an encouraging jerk of his head. “Open it up, me and Soap will cover you.”

Another small mercy, you think, as Ghost reaches into his backpack and pulls out a set of bolt cutters, regarding you stiffly. “When I pop this lock, you push in,” he directs you curtly, and you bite back a retort. You knew the process like the back of your hand – you had no need for an explanation.

The ‘especially from him’ goes unsaid.

With precise, practised movements, Ghost positions the bolt cutters, and pushes open the door.

As soon as you take one step into the cell, a large hand wraps around the back of your neck, slamming your face into the concrete wall, a blinding pain shooting through your retinas. Letting out a small yelp, your chest rattles as your hands wildly raise in an imitation of surrender.

“Alejandro! Let go of ‘er! It’s us!” Soap calls out, and you swallow unhealthy amounts of air. That hit had taken more out of you than you’d expected – and your harsh breaths were making that incredibly apparent.

The grip on the scruff of your neck slackens when Rodolfo shoots off in quickfire Spanish, “Coronel, relájate, cabron, somos nosotros.”

Your cheek aches and your head pounds as the hand removes itself entirely, allowing for you to take in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Soap, Ghost!” Alejandro bursts out, and as you rise to your feet unsteadily, you watch as he thumps both of them on the back of their shoulders, before turning to Rodolfo with an expression that could only be described as longing. “...Rudy.”

“Didn’t think we’d leave ya, did ye?” Soap chuckles, oblivious to the thread of tension between the two men.

Whatever silent conversation had occured between the two enforcers is quickly cut as Alejandro accepts the shake of Soap’s hand, a feral grin wide on his features. “What took you so long, pendejos?”

“A traitor with an attitude is what,” Ghost inputs, and really, how much self control can a Lieutenant lack? Wiping at your cheek, you let your hand fall once more to your side as you meet Alejandro’s inquisitive gaze head-on.

“I’m Graves’ previous colonel,” you extend your hand, “And I’m your best bet at getting your base back.”

You expect suspicion, uproar, maybe – or at least questioning, similar to that of Rodolfo’s.

Instead, all you’re met with is Alejandro’s manic smile sharpening, and a slap on the back of your own. Ruffling your hair, he uses his free hand to accept the gun Rodolfo’s extending towards him, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Sounds good, hermana. Welcome to how real men fight.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

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devildomditzy · 1 year ago

Text

Pity Party

In which you pretend to forget Mammon’s birthday and Mammon pretends he’s not upset

no warning or tags, a quick birthday drabble for the birthday boy <3

——————————————————————————

He’s been practically bouncing off the walls all week. Even if he didn’t explicitly say, it was obvious what had him worked up.

It was his birthday tomorrow, something you knew very well in fact. You had planned down to the minute exactly how you and him were going to spend the day (or more so where you were allowing him to drag you throughout the town) already telling his brothers he’s off limits for the upcoming 24 hours.

He’s been dropping hints like mad and, you get it. He’s the Avatar of Greed. He loves presents, he loves parties, he loves attention, especially your attention. But c’mon, did he really believe you’d actually forget his birthday?

Well, you’re kinda hoping he does.

You’ve been planning this surprise for the second born for months now, pulling out all the stops and not sparing any expense. You love that look in his eye he gets when his greed starts up, and you intend to keep that look there all day. But, in order to really make this as special as you planned, it had to be a surprise.

“Yo, MC”, Mammon calls as he sits down next to you in the RAD courtyard during lunch a little too fast, his tray clattering to the table. “Whaddya got planned for us tomorrow?”

You don’t look up for the book you’re pretending to read, instead opting for a look of nonchalance.

“Uh, am I supposed to have something planned for us to do tomorrow?”

He looks taken aback for a moment, but presses onward.

“Aw, c’mon you gotta have somethin’ planned for tomorrow. Tomorrow’s so important, it might as well be a realm-wide holiday!”

You try to hide your smile as your lips upturn as he mutters something about asking Diavolo if it could be added to the calendar.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Wha- What’s tomorrow?? MC, ya gotta be kidding me right now.”

“Is it some kind of weird Devildom holiday? I don’t have all of them memorized yet, you know.”

“You really don’t know?”, his voice breaks a little and you find it so hard to keep composed. But, you have to stay strong! Stick to the plan!

His face falls completely at the shake of your head. He clicks his tongue before mumbling, “Forget it then. Guess it wasn’t that important to begin with.” You watch as he abruptly stands up, trudging away from you in an upset haze.

You sigh heavily looking down at the book Satan loaned you to pretend to read to pretend to look too busy to remember your first man’s birthday. This sucked. The hurt on his features was evident and to know that you caused that? It’s a huge punch to the gut.

But the look on his face tomorrow will be so, so worth it.

You hope.

The next few hours after classes are filled with exactly what you expected: Mammon avoiding you at all costs and making every effort not to talk to you.

You weren’t too surprised to find Beel and Belphie waiting in the spot by RAD’s gate where Mammon usually met you to walk you back to the HOL.

Beel speaks first, “Mammon asked us to walk you home today”. He nods, so resolute.

Belphie, of course, adds the unneeded commentary. “How’s that plan working out? Mammon looked like a sad, wet puppy. More than normal, I mean.”

You groan in annoyance. “I knew he’d take it hard, but I didn’t know he was gonna take it THIS hard. I mean, c’mon, not even walking me home? That’s like his whole thing! That he’s supposed to do! Or Lucifer will kill him!”

“I think I would be upset too, if it were me”, Beel starts as the three of you begin your walk. “Imagine it was your birthday, and you thought no one would get you a cake? That’s so sad,” he sighs, laying his hand over his stomach, looking remorseful.

“No one could forget your birthday Beel, or they’d be forgetting mine too”, Belphie laughs. which seems to brighten Beel’s mood a little bit.

“Right, you always get me a cake, Belphie”, Beel smiles.

“Do you think I should talk to him? Just tell him what I’m planning?”

“And ruin your surprise? You’ve been working hard on that”, frowns Beel.

His twin continues where he left off, “And we’ve been working hard to keep it a secret. Don’t worry, I give it an hour, maybe two before he’s talking to you again. He’s like, physically incapable of not hovering around you like some parasite.”

“But he’s my favorite parasite”, you muse, “and don’t call him that.”

“Well, whatever you do, better make up your mind quick”, Belphie says, opening the gates to the House of Lamentation. “Mammon can be sensitive, but trust me, he’ll survive a couple hours thinking you forgot.”

“Yeah, I guess he can.”

He could not.

Mammon laid on his bed, furious and yet, finding himself unable to be mad at you. Of course you forgot his birthday. Why would you remember?

When you’re getting lunch and shopping in town with Asmo. When you’re having tea and chatting with Lucifer. When your gaming with Levi and reading with Satan. When your napping or stargazing with the twins? When you’re baking with Luke and Simeon and Barbatos and have the future king of the Devildom gunning for your attention as well. Why would you remember him? The selfish prick of the family. Why would you deem him or his birthday important?

And yet, you look at him like he hung the stars and the moon. You touch him like he’s made of fragile glass. You care for him as if he was the most special thing in your life. Did he even have the right to be upset? When someone as important as you forgets someone as insignificant as him?

He can’t fault you. And honestly not talking to you hurts worse than anything you could ever do to him. Forcing himself to not walk you home was easily one of the hardest things he had to do within the last millennia. A birthday without you sounds much worse than just telling you why he’s upset.

But he’s stubborn, dammit. Goddamn Lucifer and the goddamn pride he instilled in him.

So, he does what he does best when he’s upset. He broods. And he does not text you. Oh no, don’t even think that he typed a million messages and erased them, words never coming out right. Cause he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He would never.

He stares at his ceiling, arms crossed, D.D.D tossed aside. He really can’t believe it. It’s already almost midnight. You really forgot his birthday, didn’t you? It’s not that you HAD to get him anything, or you HAD to have something planned, he just… really wished you did.

He thought he was more important to you than that.

As of right on cue, a light rasp comes from the other side of his door. A familiar one. None of his brothers knocked that quietly.

But did he wanna answer you? No. He didn’t want to talk to you and see your beautiful face and spend his day with the most important person in his life, his human. Cause he didn’t. Of course not. He would never.

“Mammon, are you in there?”, your voice rings out and his heart lurches. He wants to be mad at you, dammit he wants to be mad at you. But…

He’s up before he even knows what he’s doing, turning the handle, sighing before he starts, “Look, MC, I didn’t mean to…what’s that?”

He stops mid sentence, pointing down to the box in your hands, wrapped up nicely in gold foil wrapping.

“It’s a present for the birthday boy,” you take out your own D.D.D. looking at the time. And since it’s officially midnight, it’s officially your birthday.”

“W-wha, I-I…Y-you…”

“Happy Birthday Mammon”, you smile sweetly at him, shoving the box in his hands.

He looks down at it and then back at you… then down and it and back at you again, disbelief written on his face.

“Don’t cha ever scare me like that again, got it!?”

“Scare you?”, you question him with a light chuckle.

“Yeah, scare me! I though you forgot all about me!”

“You? How could anyone forget about The Great Mammon! And how could I forget about my first man?”

He watches as a blush rises on your cheeks, a matching one quickly finding its way onto his.

“Well”, you say, shoving the box into his hands, “Open it!”

He pauses for a minute before careful undoing the ribbon tying it together, unraveling the gaudy paper from around the box.

He lets out a soft gasp as he removes the lid. “Is this… MC these cost a fortune, how did you…”

You cut him off, taking the gold chain bracelet out and cuffing it around his wrist.

“Well, you kinda haven’t shut up about it since you saw it, so I saved up as much as I could from my Hell’s Kitchen shifts.”

He stares at it in awe before smiling widely and wrapping his arms around you tightly, rocking you back and forth. “Thank you, Treasure.”

The nickname pulls a giddy laugh from your chest, pulling back from the hug to look him in the eyes. “Anytime, Mammoney. But you gotta get ready”, you reply, poking a finger into his chest to drive the point home.

“Ready? For what?”

“Well, there’s your party at The Fall that starts in about an hour… and then we have to check in at the private suite…then maybe we’ll sleep a little? maybe? Then there’s the breakfast reservations…. and the lunch reservations…and the dinner reservations…and then the Casino downtown is already expecting you…” you list lost in thought, thinking hard to remember everything you had planned out in advance.

Mammon can’t help but look at you with the fondest eyes. Like you had hung the stars and the moon. He puts his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention, touching you like the most fragile glass.

“What, did you really think I forgot?”, you tease him in that tone you know he loves.

And he once again takes you into his arms. He can’t believe he doubted you for a second. Not only are you a bad liar but,

You are the most important thing in his life.

#kit’s playhouse #obey me #om #mammon #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #omnb #obey me nightbringer #omnb mammon #obey me x mc #om x mc #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #omnb x mc #omnb mammon x mc

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 7 months ago

Text

Time to be delulu yet completely serious on my bnha 423 opinions.

Good points: The resolution between AFO and Yoichi was satisfactory, love as a reason for evil and evil deeds, the rooftop trio having one final moment full of emotion, the moment of Kurogiri thinking about Tomura and the LOV, Deku having a quirk of his own born out of determination and hard work, Deku as the protagonist of bnha in general, Tomura's last actions and words.

Bad points: Rushed arc conclusions, moments that felt kinda repetitive or lacked the punch given that we've seen/lived them before, not the best compositions we've seen from Horikoshi on the panels, Tomura's arc being rushed to a martyr ending— for impact???? ( or it ending on another cliffhanger that is gonna turn to be different from what we expected ).

I'll go in depth, so please check under the cut.

GOOD POINTS:

Yoichi and AFO:

The last conversation among these brothers was everything I was expecting. The love was there and it transformed them. It made AFO a monster and Yoichi a ghost.

For me, this time the AFO ending needed to be quick because we've already said goodbye to him too many times. This was supposed to be about AFO's refusal to give up on his brother and the unresolved relationship of those two.

I really liked how Yoichi reminded AFO that he needs to face the consequences of his actions and that he's love won't be able to save them.

Villain love:

Love as a reason for pain and destruction is perhaps one of my favorite tropes. So many stories approach love as this purely morally good feeling, when in the end it is just like any other feeling, you know?

People go to war for love all the time. They kill for love. Die for love. Do unforgivable things for love. Human existence is sooooo complex, why would love be the exception?

Horikoshi has been REALLY careful with the AFO backstory and his motivations. He didn't want an antagonist that felt empty. He made AFO human without redeeming him, okay? Because our ability to sympathize with some of AFO's traits doesn't make him less evil. To put it simply, it means that evil things are also human at heart.

Even those acts that you can't forgive or forget are motivated by something.

Kurogiri and the rooftop trio:

We knew from the beginning they were not the main characters of this manga.

We've gotten their story through glimpses and moments. Their time together had always been somehow rushed. Too many things to say, not enough time and they are on opposite sides of the war after all.

We knew that Kurogiri would go back because we knew he would protect Tomura during the final fight. We knew that he'd help the heroes defeat AFO. We knew he'd have to make his choice and say his goodbyes to his old friends.

Kurogiri, Tomura and the LOV

"He's friends are waiting" along with the image of Spinner asking Kurogiri to bring Tomura back to them was the highlight of this chapter for me. (You all expected it, right?)

Something about the way it reads like a father who wants his son to live because he is being waited for. He has friends who love him and would do anything to protect him, see him safe and sound. Something about the symbolism of Spinner putting Father (aka Kotaro's hand) on Kurogiri's face as he asked for it.

This chapter acknowledged that Kurogiri and Shirakumo share the same character core. They are always the protectors, the ones who would sacrifice themselves to see their charge survive. Similar to how Mic was waiting for Shouta so Shirakumo made sure that Shouta would survive, Kurogiri wants to do the same for Spinner and Tomura.

This alone would require an entire post to elaborate.

Deku's quirk:

The debate between endgame quirkless Deku or endgame OFA user Deku is settle.

I really liked that Deku got a quirk on his own that was born out of his own determination to be a hero. It's a nice representation of all he is as a character and what he stands for. Similarly, I enjoyed a lot the fact that it was short-lived. I'm the type who likes it better when things require a sacrifice or when miracles have their own conditions.

Deku doesn't feel overpowered to me. You get that sense that he really deserves everything he has and that it hasn't been a nonsense gift from the narrative. There's also the human condition, the limitations that keep him grounded.

Bnha and Deku:

Deku defeating AFO 'cause villains and heroes help him, his friends being there for him and being there to cheer for him as he fights, his sensei being there despite the fact that Aizawa at first thought Deku wouldn't make it— all the details that make bnha what it is.

They were good.

The UA kids really keep the story consistent when it is about them. They don't give up on anyone, they fight for each other, they stay to witness things for themselves. I love them <3

Tomura's last actions and words:

Careful here. Listen to what I'm saying.

If the narrative had pointed out to this ending, this would have been a good way to execute it.

Tomura coming back along with the vestiges to pack one final punch to defeat AFO— I know many fans that would be moved to tears and would be super excited to see it. Tomura was on point in this chapter, dialoguing with Deku without the hatred in his heart, his face being clearer and almost tender.

He felt defeated, like he had accepted his death already. There's also the connection to Kurogiri and Nana (who defended him) and his words to Spinner, that are meant as a general message to depict how much Tomura values the LOV.

Even the fact that AFO kept him around 'cause a part of him loved / cared about Tomura feels fitting, but I'm not sure if I correctly read the leaks in that part...

Anyway, we got the old trope of the antagonist who used his last moments to help defeat the real villain. It serves as his redemption and the expectation is for the public to feel sorry bad for him.

BAD POINTS

Rushed conclusions:

In my opinion, this chapter was too fast paced and therefore was not as emotional as it should have been.

It doesn't give the feeling that it's fast because the battle is intense. It gives the feeling of too much information packed on one chapter, so nothing really shines on its own. It's way too informative, not enough action narration.

Like I said before, the fatal mistake of a story is to be boring. Art has to provoke you, it has to engage with you, question you, awake things in you. This chapter tho, many things happened at the same time and it grew a bit murky.

Repetitive moments

Again, personal opinion here.

I think certain bnha movies were a mistake. Not because they were bad or boring or whatever, but because Horikoshi wrote parts of bnha real ending into them to the point you'd say "we've already seen that" while reading bnha 423.

Deku and Bakugo teaming up to defeat AFO was so expected. Not as in "the narrative is making sense", but as in "we saw it on heroes rising".

I feel the same with the students all appearing to help Deku fight AFO. That's a typical shonen structure where the friends making space for the protagonist to reach the main villain. It was already happening, so why bring AFO back?? I think the story is over-explaining here, making everything way too obvious. We could have had AFO's resolution with Yoichi before and the students moment after. In truth, it feels like Horikoshi closed some character arcs before he should and left plot holes without explanation, so he needed to reopen to accommodate.

Panel composition:

I admire Horikoshi when it comes to panel composition. He has some amazing panels that make the story really flow, but bnha 423 isn't there.

There are too many elements clustered and empty spaces that don't feel with purpose (in manga, even the blanks must have a purpose). This chapter should have been at least two, so you wouldn't have to rush Bakugo appearing, Yoichi and AFO resolution, Kurogiri saying his goodbye to the rooftop trio and facing AFO for Tomura's sake, Deku remembering where he started and where he is, Tomura last words and the Tomura and Deku resolution...

Those are too many important plot points to illustrate in a hurry.

Also?? The panel of Tomura and Deku punching AFO is so unserious. Totally wrong place to be funny sjbdjdnd why does it even feel like the vestiges are punching air???

" Tomura's ending " :

I'm not the first to say it feels anticlimactic and as if it isn't the ending at all.

The major problem is that through the manga, Horikoshi has focused a lot on Tomura as a character, carefully developing him, giving him tropes that are often reserved for the hero or the main character, making sure we empathize with him, we understand him, hyping up Deku's journey to rescue him.

We got an entire arc from the LOV perspective. This is not the type of one sentence ending you give to an antagonist you spent so much ink and sweat on. The nonchalant way of Tomura accepting his death? The little reaction from Deku? What was the purpose of the manga building up the LOV friendship to the moment where Kurogiri told AFO that Tomura's friends were waiting for him, if you'd make him just disappear on thin air?

This reads absolutely like a bunny within a hat.

That's being optimistic.

If we want to be cynical, maybe this is all there is. I don't find it readable to end the story with Tomura dying. All that effort to save him and it ends in "oh well, he decayed along with AFO"?!

If you think about it, Toga status is unknown because we don't even know where she went or if she's still alive, Touya status is also unknown although we know he wanted to live and that the ice prevented him from further damage, we haven't seen Spinner, we don't know if Kurogiri vanished with that last attack on AFO and now we saw Tomura decaying into the wind.

Yo kill half the surviving LOV would be a bold move that wouldn't follow the narrative. The reward for the hero students should be being able to save their counterpart, so the world can regard them as the greatest heroes 'cause they save the unsalable and blah blah blah.

There's also the fact Tomura hasn't been saved yet. Tenko? Nana and Deku saved him from Kotaro. The crying kid? Saved from AFO by Deku and the vestiges and the others. Tomura? Nop, he's dying/dead. The one person Spinner really wanted to save was Tomura. He didn't know about the crying kid or Tenko. He wanted to save his friend, the "irredeemable" villain, the young man he played videogames with and fought alongside and vowed to follow.

If this is the end, it's incomplete.

So we might hope it is not the end.

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moronkombat · 1 year ago

Note

Hanzo hasashi (mk1) x reader who’s Bi-Han’s daughter 👀

okay i kinda cheated here and made it mk11 hanzo x bi-han's daughter becaaaause well i could tehehe and it's hard for me write ships that involve minors

tw: age gaps can't help it folks, i love it too much

Hanzo was unaware that Bi-Han had any children when he took Bi-Han's life in kombat

The Shirai Ryu leader could only see vengeance when he faced Bi-Han again and was clouded by it

He was unable to listen to reason and struck Bi-Han down without mercy

Later he learned that it had been Quan Chi's trickery that had killed his family

That not all he learned. Hanzo came to learn about Bi-Han's family and he was instantly filled with regret

Hanzo is able to meet Bi-Han's daughter through Kuai Liang, who he has established an alliance with

He worries about how this meeting will go and how you will react to your father's murderer

Nerves fill his body as he approached the Lin Kuei manner and there he sees you

If he had not known your relation to Bi-Han he would have thought you to be anyone else

You do not resemble Bi-Han much and Hanzo is soon puzzled when you give him a smile

"So this is the famous Scorpion I have heard about" those are your first words to him and Hanzo is finds himself pausing

He had prepared himself for a scolding or even a slap but there was none to be found

All he was given was kindness and respect by a young woman beautiful and regal

You are understanding and do not put the blame on Hanzo for your father's death. You are wise enough to know it was due to Quan Chi's deception that both of you have suffered

Hanzo cannot help but try to draw comparisons between you and your late father but he finds few

Where Bi-Han was commanding you are reasonable. When Bi-Han was cruel you showed understanding

Hanzo is rather impressed by you to say the least. You are quite the level-headed young woman

The two of you begin working together closely and there is a mutual respect and friendship formed between the two of you

You are partners with similar goals and the two of you work together well. Perhaps too well

Hanzo beings to notice a shift in his feelings for you. Eyes would linger upon you longer than they should, thoughts of you entered his mind when he tried to sleep

He is no fool and knows the nature of these emotions. Hanzo experienced the very same with Harumi

Problem is, Hanzo a well grown man now and you...well, you were still experiencing life

Hanzo is conflicted with his attraction to you. He finds you magnificent and enchanting but what is he to do?

He a man older than you and the killer of your father

Hanzo feels disgraced and ashamed with himself. How can he harbor feelings for such a young woman?

There is guilt with his family as well. He wonders if Harumi would forgive him or understand. He has no true way of finding out

Hanzo is noticeably distracted and when you try to confront him about this, he is quick to say that he is fine. You know better

Try as you might to pry the truth from him, Hanzo remains stoic in his response and you begin to worry about him greatly

It is an inner battle that rages inside the body and mind of Hanzo Hasashi and there seems to be no resolution in sight

Or perhaps there is. Perhaps the feelings kept within him mirror your own

Could there be more between the two of you just waiting to be unleashed?

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat x reader #mk11 #mk11 x reader #mortal kombat 11 #hanzo hasashi #hanzo hasashi x reader #scorpion x reader #scorpion mk

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milkman-zahhak · 5 months ago

Text

Shane's overindulgence at the desert festival

(WARNING. KINK CONTENT AHEAD. READ TAGS FOR SPECIFICS. PLEASE JUST IGNORE IF THIS ISNT YOUR THING)

A quick, messy drawing. It took me all day (lightning fast speeds compared to my usual..) but whatever, it's for me and I like it enough. I decided not to stress myself out about the parts I couldn't draw, like the one hand or the feet. Lol.

I also wrote a short shitty fanfic to go along with it. Maybe help the immersion. Idk. Fanfic below the cut. Sorry for the abrupt ending, I don't wanna make it too long.

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As the warm wind blew across the desert horizon, Shane stood proudly amidst the bustling crowd of his fellow villagers at the Desert Festival. His eyes sparkled with delight and determination as he made a beeline for the concessions stands. He turned to the farmer, his husband, and let him know about his plan before his lover inevitably wandered off to go explore those freaky skull caves until midnight, as usual. "Heh, remind me to brush my teeth tonight..." Shane chuckled to himself, "...there's 12 unique soda flavors, and I'm on track to try them all." He bought his drinks and sat at the table right next to the food stand. He took a deep breath and raised the first bottlr to his lips, savoring the sweet, fizzy sensation as the liquid danced across his tongue. It tasted pretty damn good. Truthfully, Shane didn't really have that great of a concept for the amount of food/drink intake that can be considered a "sample", after all, he's not some pompous fancy jerk who samples things on the regular. And soda isn't nearly as bad as alcohol, so if anything, indulging in stuff like this was beneficial to his recovery! (<- what he tells himself) With enthusiasm radiating from his every pore, Shane approached the colorful soda stack in front of him on the table with excitement, each bottle promising a new taste adventure. He eyed the rainbow array of liquids, the anticipation making his mouth water. One by one, he carefully selected each flavor, evaluating the flavors, making sure he gave every drink an equal and fair judgement by making sure to taste the whole thing.

As the day wore on, Shane's sips became slower, more deliberate, as he spent his day at the desert festival in a quiet corner chugging soda instead of participating in the main activities. The small crowd around the food vendors seemed to fade away as the hours passed, everyone either competing in the various challenges and games, or heading home. The annoying chatter of people was replaced by a symphony of fizzes and gulps as he swallowed. About halfway through the soda selection, Shane was starting to feel the effects stack up. Each flavor was unique and tantalizing, from the tangy zest of lemon to the exotic allure of starfruit– some flavors were of foods, which he didnt even know how they managed to make into sodas, but they tasted interesting enough that he didn't really care to dwell on it. The first signs of discomfort (or discomfort that interupted his activities, at least) appeared after the seventh sample, a faint rumbling in his stomach accompanied by a bloated feeling. Shane chuckled nervously, rubbing his distended belly as he continued on his quest. The laughter petered out into silence as he realized just how full he was getting. Years of near-deadly alcoholism had cursed him with a bit of a beer gut, but nothing unusual by any means. Shane's physique was far from his highschool gridball days, his flesh now squishy to the touch, but he was healthy enough, he thought. What is unusual right now is that his usually soft belly is starting to feel kinda.. firm. And more-than-kinda loud.

By the ninth flavor, his once doughy abdomen had inflated like a balloon, straining against his shirt. Bubbles of gas formed from all the carbonation, and started to escape from the confines of his stomach, causing him to emit small, embarrassed burps. Despite the discomfort, Shane remained resolute, determined to taste all twelve flavors. His hand moved mechanically to cover his mouth when he felt the signs of an oncoming burp, muffling the sounds as best he could. The few people around him cast curious glances, but he paid them no mind, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He could already feel the pressure building, the gas fighting for release. "*urp... uurp.. * Oh boy..." he mumbled, eying the last few samples with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Reassuring himself that this is childs-play, it's fucking soda for crying out loud, he's gotta drink something. And this is like the tamest kind of drink besides plain water, right? Shane reached for the tenth flavor - a bright blue concoction that promised a taste of ancient fruit. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of fizziness. As the cool liquid hit his tongue, his stomach rebelled, sending ripples of gas upwards. "*uuurgh*" Shane groaned, his hand flying to his mouth to suppress a much larger belch. *urp.. bhu-uORP* "oof, nnf.." he grunted, before being interupted by a deep, wet, belch.

*bluuuu-UUuurppp* Eyes watering, he forced himself to swallow, the pressure inside him growing exponentially. His cheeks puffed out as he held in a second belch, and he could feel the soda sloshing around in his overfilled stomach. His fellow townsfolk werent anywhere nearby, thankfully. The few people left seemed to all be across the street on the other side, chatting idly amongst themselves. Either due to the late hour or perhaps the sketchyness of street food. He didn't care; he was so close to achieving his goal.

The final two flavors were a blur of sweetness and bubbles. He barely even noticed the flavor anymore. As he brought the bottle to his lips one last time, Shane's stomach lurched violently. He swallowed hard, the sensation of his belly straining against his shorts waa almost unbearable. "*burp* There... *huff* ...we...go..." He managed to choke out between sips, each swallow more difficult than the last. Finally, with a triumphant cry, he downed the final drops and tossed the empty bottle aside and away from his hands, as they instead flew to his stomach, massaging the taut surface as it churned and gurgled. "*uuorlp* Ugh..." He groaned, feeling the full weight of his accomplishment settling heavily in his gut. His stomach was a swollen, gassy mess, but the thrill of victory surged through him, pushing aside the discomfort - at least for a moment. Then, as the reality of his situation set in, Shane couldn't help but wijce with every deep breath. "*hurp* Well, I did it... I sampled every flavor... ugh... All 12! But my poor stomach..." Another burp escaped him, preceeded by a sickly churning in his stomach. He winced at every deep breath he took, rubbing his distended belly tenderly. He couldn't even help it as air was forced up his throat with nowhere else to go inside of his straining stomach. Shane swallowed reflexively after this burp, as if he was afraid of how it would end. It tasted like a sour amalgamation of all the sodas he's drank that day. He grimaced and clutched a handful of fabric from the less-tight parts of his shirt before loosening his grip and resuming the gentle rubbing of his taut belly. "M-my poor stomach... isn't letting me forget the taste of any of them... "*hic-ouurlp* ugh... bleck"

Every shift in movement would cause an audible slosh, The (literal) weight of his soda taste testing was hitting him full force. Anxiety crept into his mind as he realized he has to go home at some point. He has to stand up, get out of this chair, and get on the bus back to stardew valley, and somehow waddle back to the farm. It was getting late. Almost 9pm, and here he is, focusing on his breathing so that he doesn't spew a rainbow waterfall. He takes off his jacket, one he regrets wearing to the desert, leans back and groans. This is going to be a long, long night.

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