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mystsee · 7 months

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MESMERIZED ✦ KEEGAN P. RUSS

✦ about: keegan is mesmerized with you since he first met you ♡

✦ content: NSFW +18, virgin!reader, afab reader, blood, guns & death mentions, panic attacks, misogyny

✦ a.n: the boots i kinda imagined are the moonboots!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

in the sun-kissed landscapes of italy, you, with your captivating charm and surprising intelligence, was dealing with a meeting with very higher ups in the politic world, things were going so far so good.

that was until your boss, a figure whom you trusted very much, revealed to you the news. a deployment to russia as a military translator.

nervous feelings ran down your spine, not from the revelation of a new challenge, but from the anticipation of russia’s frigid embrace. most of the time, you were assigned to help translate in missions involving trafficking, drugs, dark stuff like that. and having to translate for the “bad guys” involved them being not so nice to you. mostly because they don’t like a woman all up on their dark buisness.

nevertheless, you knew you were going to be protected, and the military people have never treated you wrong.

you prepared your clothes, having to use a bigger backpack due to all the puffy jackets, scarfs, you know, all cold related things. which you do not protest! the colder the weather, the better you can dress.

right now you had a puffy black jacket, warm leggings with a thick skirt attached! it was 100x more comfortable because now your ass didn’t have to feel all the cold seats anymore. and of course your puffy boots, thick beige fur covering the boots. one thing about you is your feet were always cold, making you use like 3 layers of socks!

you arrived late night, making the cold even worse but you managed to cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, seriously the cold was so bad in here. as you disembarked from the helicopter, the biting russian cold embraced you, making you shiver involuntarily.

you were greeted warmly by your captain “nice to see you again over here” he smiled warmly “i’m glad too, really missed the artic” he laughed at that, how could he be out here with only a small jacekt?!

he noticed your shivering frame, you thought you were hiding it well, making him start leading you through the snow-covered landscape over to base.

upon entering, all eyes turned towards you – a mix of amazement and curiosity danced in the gaze of your new colleagues, you knew your boots were quite attention catching, probably why everyone kept staring at you.

to say you were pretty was little, it was obvious everyone in the room found you beautiful, but you didn’t pay it any mind, again thinking maybe your boots were standing out a bit too much, not the way your thighs looked so good with the skirt on top, but! they would need to get used to see your babies, they were your go-to in cold weather.

however, one pair of eyes stood out, belonging to keegan. he almost looked mesmerized with you. he watched you stride with an unyielding confidence, almost model like, the skirt making your hips move so so pretty, that it was making it hard for him to stop staring at you.

somehow your eyes found his, thanking the heavens you had your scarf covering your cheeks because you were blushing so hard rn, his gaze lingered, an admiring intensity in his eyes that you almost tripped.

only his eyes, a window to the unspoken thoughts within, were visible, making you curious. as his fellow soldier spoke, keegan’s attention remained freezed on you, his focus unyielding, and the words of his comrade fading into the background of his silent admiration.

the spell was broken as soon as the captain opened the door to his office, inviting you in to debrief the mission with you. you were going with keegan’s team to help them gather intel, they were trying to find a very big drug dealer, and you translating, would help them find him faster.

tomorrow morning would be your first mission with them, yet you still didn’t know who keegan was, making it intriguing whom you’d be working with.

captain showed you your room, it was a basic military room, a twin sized bed in the middle, small vanity to your left, a desk in the other size to the room, and a small window, last but not least, your own bathroom.

you pleaded your boss to give you your own bathroom, there was enough experiences a girl can have in a shared bathroom used by men.

you started investigating about who you were translating for tomorrow, loosing the track of time. by the time you finished it was 3 am, making you worry a little, you were leaving tomorrow at 6 am.

you were almost going to bed when your stomach rumbled, making you internally groan, you knew that if you didn’t sleep, insomnia would make its way to you.

rolling your eyes you went to the kitchen, you thought everyone was asleep rn, so you paid no mind yo your outfit, a small cropped sweatshirt, leggings and fluffy slippers.

you were about to eat your slice of bread with jam when a sudden voice made you drop it to the washer “can’t sleep?” “jesus fuck!” you swore you felt your heart stop for a second, you never saw anyone in here!

you turned around to see the same guy from before, keegan, who just stared at you, seated in a chair with a book in his hands, it almost looked like he was trying to contain his laugh.

“what’s wrong with you!” you said with a smile laughing, he probably saw your bread jump to the washer “me? nothing, was just asking” he said it so proud of himself “how do you even read with all the lights off?” by now you had turned to him, still by the counter “i wasn’t reading, i was drinking tea” “oh” you never saw the cup of tea beside the book silly you.

“just know you ruined my dinner” you said pouting “and you asked my what’s wrong with me” he said scoffing “oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t eat late at night” “no i do princess, just not a bread with jam at 3 in the morning” his nickname made you stop your breath for a second, deciding to pay no mind to it “but you do you princess” he was by your side now, putting his cup of tea in the washer, until you saw him freeze next to you, there was small light coming from outside, oh yea, you had no bra on.

he could see see your breasts, your nipples to be precise, under your sweatshirt, practically begging to be touched, your sweatshirt was so small it had ridden up just a tiny bit when you were making your dinner, making keegan see a small part of your under breast.

“princess” keegan suddenly moved closer to you, making you see his eyes better, revealing a captivating shade of blue, a mesmerizing hue that held a subtle warmth within its cool depths, caught your attention.

his gaze, unwavering in its intensity, sent a gentle warmth through you, leaving a blush on your cheeks again, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection forged in that shared moment.

“you still don’t know my name” which was true making you ask for it, when he said it, he saw the realization in your eyes “oh! i’m working with you in the next mission” you said a bit breathlessly “glad to have you with us” you could see the deep appreciation for you in his eyes.

keegan had heard about you, he knew of your well-regarded reputation as a translator, held a silent acknowledgment of the confidentiality that shrouded your professional endeavors.

in the subtle lines of his expression, you could see respect for the enigma that surrounded you, a recognition that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. “thank you” you said, he just nodded to you, he was so close to you now you could feel his chest, and his chest could feel your nipples. you just held your breath keeping eye contact with him “well, princess, you must get your sleep, i won’t keep you up” you were in a trance when he moved, snapping you out of it “goodnight keegan” you said in a small voice. keegan smiled behind his mask.

ever since then, a connection quietly unfolded between you and keegan. it initially started as him being a distant observer, he always kept his eyes on you everywhere you went, even more when you were speaking russian towards the males, you held such confidence with you he was deeply allured with you.

his presence evolved into a silent shield, a comforting assurance amidst the unfamiliarity of a foreign land. he may couldn’t understand russian, but he sure as hell could see the body language and the tones they were speaking to you.

everytime he could sense any sort of verbal assault at you, his steely gaze fixed upon the adversaries with an intensity that spoke volumes, as well as his hidden raised gun;), sensing the weight of his silent threat, they found themselves silenced. even though you had no idea he was threatening them behind you.

you always knew keegan had your back, and silently thanked him for it. as the time passed, you felt keegan more protective of you, and you more attentive of him, you two were almost all the time together.

there were moments, a shared smile in the midst of icy winds, or a wordless understanding in the chaos of a mission, that spoke louder than words. in these instances, his protective instinct manifested – a steady hand guiding you through the challenges, a silent assurance that you were not alone. metaphorically as well as physically.

his interactions evolved into a touch that carried a warmth beyond mere protection. his gestures, once purely professional, became tinged with an affectionate familiarity.

a guiding hand on the small of your back during a mission briefing or a reassuring touch on your shoulder in moments of uncertainty, each contact seemed to convey a connection that lingered beyond the realm of your relationship.

these touches carried a feeling of something more, a silent language of shared emotions between you and him. in the hushed moments when his hand lingered a second longer than necessary or the gentle squeeze that accompanied a reassuring smile.

in the dim glow of the base's common area, keegan’s touches continued to weave a tapestry of unspoken connection. a shared moment over a map had his fingers brushing against yours, the contact lingering for a heartbeat longer than required, it was practically normal for you to be blushing around him now.

during a particularly challenging mission, his arm found its way around your shoulders, a protective embrace in the face of caos. in that moment you just wanted to be beside him all the time, you felt safe around him.

there was also a time in which keegan was behind you, listening to what you would be doing, until he felt rather not okay with what you were supposed to do. he suddenly put his hand discreetly on your waist, and the other arm in front of your chest, his hand subtly telling “no”

“she’s with us, meaning we protect her, what you’re saying is risky for her, she won’t do it” you felt warmth on your chest. you have never experienced this, the other teams you had been were never this attentive with you. it was a weird emotion for you, you were used to always seek for yourself.

in the quiet of the nights, a shared gaze held more than words could express. keegan’s hand, a reassuring presence, sought yours across the table, fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your fingers every now and then. he did that more times than you could count.

the line between friendship and something deeper became increasingly blurred, leaving both of you suspended in the uncharted territory of unspoken emotions.

the endearing term "princess" slipped from his lips almost all the time, a word you loved hearing from him even though you never tell him. it became a private language, whether in the midst of a mission or during quiet evenings, the endearment echoed, making you warm inside all the time.

keegan’s feelings had transcended the boundaries of friendship, evolving into a profound connection that bordered into almost being in love with you.

his gaze, once intense, now carried a softness that showed a deep admiration, a mesmerizing allure that held him captivated in your presence.

his eyes just seemed to follow you everywhere, absorbing every detail of you, every facet of your being, as if etching your essence into his soul.

the desire to be with you became a palpable force, an unspoken longing that lingered in the spaces between conversations. the way his fingers sought yours, the way he leaned in, just a fraction closer than necessary – each action seemed to fluster you more and more.

you too couldn’t deny it, you felt drawn to him, but even with the warmth of his company and shared moments, there was a bit of confusion.

your feelings were kind of mixed up, wanting to connect with him but also feeling unsure about it. it’s like a struggle between what your heart wants and what your head is thinking.

you just don’t know how to respond to him :(

figuring out your own feelings became a bit like wandering through a maze, with no clear destination.

being close to keegan made you feel good, but accepting his love brought its own set of uncertainties. you tried taking things one step at a time, trying to make sense of your own heart and the budding feelings between you two.

until you just couldn’t anymore

you were in a very heated meeting with keegan, as always, behind you, talking to a very dangerous person, in a very dangerous place, at any moment now something could happen, making you feel on edge all the time there. you felt keegan’s hand hold your shoulder softly, reminding you he is here with you.

in the middle of the conversation, you saw in less than a second the man’s eyes change, from angry, to weirdly happy, like he was going to be free from all this interrogation. you were confused, until you heard it.

bullets and bullets and more bullets echoed in the building, as well as some passing through the windows in the small office you were. in a second keegan had moved you, shielding you from any possible damage

you heard him speak to the captain, the captain said they were under attack, making difficult to get out of there. you were alone inside with keegan and the man, he was tied to the table though, so you weren’t worried he would escape.

keegan held you behind his back, opening the door and checking if it was safe to go out. he made a clear sign and went to the right side. you were shaking of fear, you could hear explosions all over the place, the shaking of the floor, bullets everywhere, it was crazy.

suddenly a man spawned out of nowhere pulling keegan and tried stabbing him.

the military gave you a gun before you left, you had basic military training, knew how to use a gun, yet never needed to. but seeing keegan almost being stabbed made you react on instinct, you pulled your gun in less than a second and shoot the bastard. keegan’s was free from the man’s arm and shot another bullet between his head.

you just stood there, the adrenaline was making it hard to process what just happened, but you could feel your body trembling with fear, you may have possibly just killed a man. you’ve never done that in your life.

keegan saw the fear in your eyes “princess, hey, i need you to focus on me” keegan’s grabbed your face, you stared at him, worry clear in your eyes “you saved me and you’re a fucking badass for that” keegan’s appreciation words dragged you out of the dark thoughts you were falling to.

you both heard footsteps approaching you, making keegan grab your hand, tight, and walked to the other direction, you moved faster than him, adrenaline was making you rushed now, until you were about to move to the other corner of the hallway and saw armed men looking for, you supposed, keegan and you.

you pushed keegan back, startling him for a second, until he could hear the voices. you had a door next to you, keegan opened it and dragged you both inside. it was small, very small, yet enough for hiding. keegan turned you so his back was to the door, always protecting you first.

you on the other hand, was shaking shitless again, you could understand what they were saying, they were here for you, obviously not happy at all that you knew about what they were doing.

keegan once again tried dragging you out of your starting panic attack, he said your name twice trying to get your attention. you looked at him, you were very much fucking scared.

“hey, you’re with me, i won’t let anything happen to you okay?” you felt one of keegan’s hand hold your head softly, the other went to your back. you then realized he was hugging you, you were so close to each other he didn’t even need to moved you closer. you moved your hands to hold his back too, resting your head on his shoulder.

in the middle of the chaotic circumstances, keegan emerged as your anchor, his presence became the grounding point that helped you survive this.

it was then when it hit you, the realization, the profound connection that resonated beyond words. attempting to utter his name, you found your voice stifled by anxiety, your very core trembling with fear.

keegan, ever perceptive, tightened his hold around you, a silent reassurance.

as the threat passed by your door, keeping your mouth shut became a necessity, not just for the mission at hand but also to guard the burgeoning emotions inside you.

after a few minutes, you could hear them muffled, meaning they were far. keegan opened the door, still holding you, and looked out, he saw that it was clear “let’s go princess”

the next few minutes was you and keegan trying to get out of here, it was almost like a maze, the explosions seemed to calm down as well as the bullets. but there was still people looking for you.

you were about to turn to your left when a hand grabbed you from your neck, choking you, you tried to scream, but the man was fast, he suddenly pushed you to the wall, punching you in the face, almost breaking your nose, but you moved just in time your face, hitting you in the cheek.

you suddenly remembered you had a gun, you pulled it out, raising it fast to the middle of his head and shot him quick.

it was ugly, scary, and it glued you to your spot, all his blood soaked you, yet his hold on you loosened, making the man fall to your shoulder, surely staining your coat.

you were so fucking scared you thanked the lord keegan grabbed the man and lunched him to the wall behind.

you were again almost in shock, but keegan was in front of you fast “come on baby, we need to leave this hell” keegan kept dragging you, your body fully trusting him, because you were going into shock now.

you saw light, and finally you were out, a few dead people scattered on the ground, not helping you at all.

it until you saw the familiar humvee you felt slight ease. everyone saw your state, blood soaking all your face, dripping all over your coat. quite a sight. keegan just shakes his head to his teammates, silently telling them that you needed space now.

the soldiers admired you, even cared for you after all this time, it was clear seeing you like this worried them, but they trusted keegan, and they know you trust keegan too.

keegan helped you up the humvee, sitting next to you, you felt him whispering beside you “you okay?” you just nodded taking a small ragged breath, wiping your nose. you felt disgusting, you could feel the man’s blood dripping down your nose, the need to shower was strong right now.

keegan just softly held your hand, squeezing it to help you ground yourself, but you just couldn’t, you were so bloody anxious right now you couldn’t stop moving your leg up and down.

keegan felt it, slightly worried about you, he knew you’ve never been in combat before, let alone kill someone. you felt his hand slowly let go of yours, and put it on top of your thigh, making you halt your movements.

he kept it there slightly above your knee, massaging a little, not daring to move his hand up higher.

the ride to base was just the captain talking to someone on the radio, other than that, it was silent.

as soon as you arrived to base, you hurried out of the humvee, and fast towards the barracks, feeling the weight of the mission on your shoulders. you desperately needed the shower.

keegan stayed by the humvee, not following you right away. he stood there, giving you room. he could understand the impact of what just happened, and knew letting you calm down first was a good idea.

the letting you calm down time meant maybe you would come out of your room later, but now, it was 11:45 pm, and keegan was more than worried about you now. he had no idea you were still in the shower, living the past event over and over in your head.

you just couldn’t erase the image from your brain, just seeing the man’s eyes go lifeless in front of you, it was such a crazy thing to look at, and you weren’t dealing with it very okay.

you felt dirty, even though you cleaned your body more than twice. you had lost the track of time, you were so inside your brain you forgot to eat something. your stomach begging for food now, making you feel nauseous.

you just put on a brown long sleeve sweatshirt with some random leggings. you knew it was last midnight now, making it easier for you, you didn’t want to see anyone right now.

keegan, on the verge of heading to your room, noticed you entering the kitchen. your eyes were red, and your nose was puffy – the signs of tears evident. the concern on his face deepened as he observed the aftermath of emotions that had washed over you. he paused, recognizing the fragility in your demeanor, reconsidering whether to approach and offer comfort in this vulnerable moment.

spotting keegan in the kitchen, you froze in place. your hair, still damp, added a chill to the atmosphere, and a subtle shiver ran through you. keegan stood there, his worry evident in his eyes. the unspoken concern made you feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing, realizing the impact it had on him.

feeling the wave of emotions crash over you once again, tears welled up, and sobs escaped despite your efforts. a whispered "i'm sorry" escaped your lips, muffled by your trembling hand pressed against your mouth. the vulnerability laid bare.

in an instant, keegan was by your side. dressed in a simple black sweatshirt and cargo pants, he became your anchor once again.

his chest against your trembling form, you held him tight, as if seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. his hands gently cradled your head and waist, offering a silent reassurance, “nothin’ to be sorry about princess” you could feel his deep voice rumble in his chest “it’s okay”

his hand now gently petting your hair as you clung to him. between sobs, you began to express the guilt weighing on your chest. "i feel so bad for leaving like that" you admitted, the words punctuated by shaky breaths.

the shock of your actions you did a while ago lingered, casting a shadow on your thoughts. the vulnerability in sharing your feelings with keegan felt both liberating and daunting. it was a bad habit of yours, disappear whenever you felt any emotion that wasn’t happiness. it was normal to you:( even if it’s been more than 12 hours since you last emerged from your room.

keegan’s voice, calm and reassuring, cut through the heaviness of the moment. "it's okay," he whispered, his hand still tenderly stroking your hair. "you're here now, and that's what matters."

a flicker of strength ignited within you, and you stood a little taller, you pressed a tender kiss on keegan’s cheek, your hand lingering on his face for a heartbeat. his eyes held an unspoken love, you could see it clearly now.

keegan’s question for the kiss hung in the air, a gentle curiosity evident in his gaze. you felt his mask close and his breaths deepen, you took a moment, meeting his intense eyes. "it’s a thank you," you said softly, "for always protecting me."

his response was a tightening of the embrace, bringing you even closer. his face, now near yours, held an intensity matched by the deep breaths he took. in a rough voice deep with emotion, he confessed, "you driving me fucking crazy." the admission hung in the air, your cheeks flushing furiously.

a playful challenge danced in your eyes as you maintained intense eye contact. "what if you show me how much I drive you crazy?" you suggested, your doe eyes locked onto his.

a groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your shoulder. laughter bubbled from you, but your breath hitched as keegan shifted, causing your sweatshirt to ride up slightly. the short length and absence of a bra made you almost flash him your right breast.

keegan could feel it, in fact, he could feel your nipples pressed on him since he hugged you, making his pants feel tighter.

you felt keegan’s hand move up, near your breast, starting to massage there, making you blush furiously “may i remind you were are still in public keegan” you didn’t want anyone walk in on keegan almost touching your breasts, in the middle of the kitchen.

startling you in a swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, his strong hold on your bum leaving you feeling both surprised and strangely like jelly inside, and before you could voice your concerns, he began walking towards your room.

you were silently screaming at him about the possibility of getting caught, but keegan just tightened his hold on you more like squeezing your booty, effectively silencing you.

the situation didn't seem to faze him as he navigated the corridors, your protests muted in the intensity of the moment. the world outside seemed to fade away as keegan carried you and opened your door, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a flutter of unspoken excitement.

you thought he was going to drop you now, but no! he just went to your bed, and dropped you, making you bounce and laugh at what he just did “such a romantic” keegan just held the back of your legs and dragged you near his cock.

that motion made your shirt roll up, now showing him your bare breasts. you widened your eyes a little, but keegan looked like he was more enamored by you now “what a fucking sight i have” he couldn't help but revel in the intimate view of you beneath him. your eyes, filled with affection, locked onto his, radiating a warmth that mirrored the depth of your connection.

the air thickened with tension, and keegan couldn't ignore the tightening in his pants, a physical response to the emotional intimacy and the allure of the moment. “look how you make me feel princess” you could feel it, near your cunt, his big cock, making a big tent in his pants.

you just couldn’t anymore, you rolled your hips up a little, the sensation almost made you cum on the spot, but keegan just made a noise of disapproval “nuh uh, let me have my time with my princess yeah?” you blushed even more when keegan took a hold of your hips, and slowly moved his hands up, dying to touch your breasts.

when his hands finally felt them, he was on cloud 9. they were so soft and moldeable in his hands he could feel precum leaking from his cock. keegan lowered himself close your breasts, rolled his mask up, and licked your nipple making you moan.

he started sucking on your nipple like a man starved, while the other hand groped your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. you were panting, his hands were god sent, as well as his mouth.

that’s when you felt the sudden urge to kiss him. and you couldn’t wait anymore. feeling the magnetic pull, you took charge, gently dragging his face upward to meet yours. in a bold move, your lips crashed against his, a collision of desire and longing.

a sound of contentment escaped keegan, emotions flowing between you like an electric current. the world outside the moment ceased to exist as the intensity of the kiss spoke volumes, an unspoken exchange of emotions and desires woven into the fabric of that stolen, passionate embrace.

keegan deepened the kiss even more, angling your head better, he was heaven sent. in the heat of the kiss, your hands, seemingly of their own accord, found their way to his mask. it became an unconscious exploration, a touch laden with curiosity. unexpectedly, keegan broke the kiss, startling you, and swiftly snatched away his mask.

in the soft glow of the small light, his face was revealed, and you found yourself enraptured by the sight of him.

"you’re so beautiful" the words slipped from your lips almost involuntarily. a deep resonance of satisfaction echoed in keegan’s chest, and without a moment's hesitation, he dragged you up. seated on his knees, you found yourself straddling him, his hands on your waist and bum, fondling with it making you whine, as your lips met again in a deep, intoxicating kiss, yet you felt needy.

involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding right on his cock, making him groan deeply “fuck baby, you’re going to make me cum” knowing he was as aroused as you made you feel even more needy, making you grind your hips even more.

keegan’s hand took a hold of your hips, making you stop your movements. you whined again, even surprising you, you’ve never met this side of you, so needy of someone.

keegan's touch on your face was soft, almost reverent. he spoke with a gentle intensity, "i want to worship you. let me." the request hung in the air, and you, captivated by the depth of his gaze, agreed with a simple nod.

with deliberate tenderness, keegan laid you back onto the bed, his hands moving to the fabric of your clothes. He began with your sweatshirt, each movement deliberate and unhurried, as if unraveling the layers of vulnerability and desire between you two. as he raised your sweatshirt up, his hands once again touched your breasts, making you moan lowly.

keegan just smirked, having removed your sweatshirt, he then proceeded to shed his own shirt. the unveiling of his toned body drew an involuntary blush to your cheeks. his eyes caught yours, and a playful smile graced his lips.

"like what you see?" he teased, the husky timbre of his voice adding a layer of seduction to the moment. the air hung heavy with anticipation as you met his gaze, your response a silent affirmation that echoed in the space between you two.

keegan, still holding your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes, continued his deliberate exploration. his hands, deft and unhurried, moved to your leggings.

with tenderness, he peeled them away, revealing more of your vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with shared desire as each layer of clothing fell away, creating an intimate tapestry of connection between you and Keegan.

you were only with your panties on now, and keegan with his grey boxers, not hiding anything, making you slightly anxious, he looked very big, and you’ve never done this before.

a sudden realization gripped you, and you couldn't help but say, "wait" keegan, on the verge of sliding your panties off, halted immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern.

nervously, you confessed, "i’ve never done this before." the vulnerability in your admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and patience. the room, once charged with desire, now held a new layer of intimacy.

keegan, surprised by your revelation, felt a renewed sense of responsibility. he looked into your eyes, the desire tempered with understanding, and reassured you, "i’ll go slow. we’ll take it at your pace."

his words carried a gentle promise, a commitment to make you feel at ease in this intimate moment. keegan then slowly slide your panties off, your cunt now bare and displayed in front of him. keegan just stared at it for a second, absolutely beautiful he thought; all shiny with your slick, begging for some attention. and who was he to deny it.

one thing about keegan, he loved foreplay, and you, you liked it too, but he’s made you cum twice! fingers and tongue involved, you weren’t complaining, but you really wanted his cock now.

from where you were, you could see his boxer stained with precum, making you whine, you were past needy now “i need you keegan, please” keegan heard the whiny tone from you, making his cock even more hard.

“such a needy princess aren’t you” keegan swiftly removed his boxers down, his cock sprang free on his stomach. your mouth was watering just seeing it. it was big, veiny and thick.

you didn’t think it, you were on all 4s now, keegan was looking behind dropping his boxer when he felt your mouth on his cock, making him hiss loud as well as whined “fuck princess, what are you doing?” you could hear his voice strained, like he was containing himself.

you didn’t answer, it was your first time doing this, yet you felt confident when you swallowed almost his whole cock down your throat, making keegan’s hands grab your head, pushing you deeper, making his eyes roll back.

“who taught you this?” he was a panting mess now, you kept bobbing your head up and down, using your angelic hands to grab his balls, swollen with his cum, massaging them, making keegan go all over the edge.

he didn’t warn you, just grabbed your head dragging it all the way down, thrusting his big cock down your throat, moaning loud. you decided to look at him then, giving your best puppy eyes you could, making keegan mesmerized with you, you could see all his reactions from here, his stomach clenching, his mouth panting, and his eyes full of love.

“i’m gonna cum love” you felt keegan trying to move his cock out of your mouth, but you just grabbed his hips, pushed them to you, and moving your tongue around his veiny cock.

keegan cummed on the spot, thick white ropes of cum going all the way down your throat, you as the princess you are, swallowed it whole, keeping your hand on his balls, feeling them clench everytime he cummed.

you were sure keegan was about to pass out now, that was the hardest orgasm he’s ever felt.

his desire was evident in the intensity of his gaze, deciding to take charge. his hands gently grasped your head, lifting you slightly making you put your hands on his big muscular chest. a deep, intense kiss ensued, each meeting of your lips sending a shiver through your body.

keegan murmured a sweet praise, "you’re such a beautiful good girl aren’t you?" he was still in his post orgasmic state, making you laugh a little, but this man had a very strong stamina.

you could feel his cock hard again in between your stomach making you put your hand on top of his slit. he bucked his hips a little “come on now” he said with a strained voice “let me make you feel good” desire evident in his voice.

keegan laid you down on the bed, moving your thighs open, letting your cunt once open to him. keegan not waisting a second now, aligned his cock with your cunt, dragging it up and down your folds “stop teasing keegan” you said pouting.

it took you by surprise when you felt his tip in your entrance, making you stop your breath for a second, keegan was smirking now, how easy it was to shut your needy ass up.

“i’ll go slow yeah? you tell me if it too much princess” keegan started sliding his thick cock insided your virgin cunt, it felt weird, a slight burn everytime he slide deeper.

keegan on the other hand was in awe, he saw your cunt swallowing his cock inside, inch by inch, your puffy clit at view too. in a second keegan had his hand on your clit, slowly circling it, making you moan, allowing his cock to slide further.

once he bottomed, he stayed there, he was still on his knees, allowing him a beautiful view. you had your knees next to your breasts, his cock swallowed by your cunt, your face flushed.

he couldn’t wait anymore, keegan dropped his forearms next to your head, and started grinding his cock inside your cunt. you felt so full, and him grinding was almost hitting your womb, making you moan loudly. “keegan you’re so deep” you said frowning from pleasure, your nails were on his big muscular biceps, hanging on for dear life.

“does it feel good?” “very fucking good” you said moaning the last word, keegan had his head hidden on your neck, his pace now a bit faster, balls hitting your ass everytime he thrusted, the skin to skin slapping sound resonating all over your room, creating such an erotic scene.

keegan then raised his head and kissed you deeply, his hand holding your head softly, you could feel him even deeper now. he had you on a mating press, his chest squeezing your breasts making your nipples stand out even more “you feel so fucking good princess” “this cunt belongs to me yeah” “you’re all fucking mine”

keegan kept saying this small praises everytime he thrusted, but what made your orgasm come quick was when he said you were his. yes you were. you were his since you met him. he was there for you ever since then, always by his side, always his.

“y-yes i am” keegan’s intense gaze was on you now “i’m yours keegan, all yours” he hit a particular spot inside you that you saw stars, moaning loud “say that again princess” “i’m yours” keegan was about to cum just from hearing you say that.

“and you’re all mine” you kissed him hard when you said that. keegan never thought you were the possessive type, yet when he heard you say that, you could say he fell in love even deeper “you’re all fucking mine keegan” you started meeting his thrusts with your hips, your clit rubbing with his stomach making your orgasm come fast.

keegan could feel it, you were clenching stronger now, almost making him stop his movements “you cumming princess?” that goddamn nickname was going to be the death of you “i want to cum with you”

your needy voice made keegan tighten his hold on you, and thrust deeper, and slower. keegan grabbed your face and kissed you, his other hand rubbing your clit. making you cum hard.

keegan cummed in an instant too, feeling your cunt clenching around his cock too, your orgasm so hard you closed your eyes. he cummed inside you, sliding even further, letting all his cum coat your walls with him. only him.

he stayed there for a while, letting you come down from the high. you were breathing hard, his cock now softening inside you, yet you didn’t want him to come out yet.

you used your feet to hit him on the hips, making him slide a bit more “stay here for a while” keegan caught the message, you wanted to cuddle. with him still inside you.

you were a sucker for cuddles, and touch starved. so when keegan laid down, still inside you, and dragged you almost on top of him, you felt shivers down your spine.

as keegan’s arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, a warmth spread through you, reaching the neglected corners of your soul. the gentle cradle of his arms was a stark contrast to the void you hadn’t realized existed, a reminder of the absence of such intimate touch in your life.

his arms forming a protective cocoon around you, fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. the rise and fall of his chest against your back mirrored the rhythm of shared breaths, creating a serene melody.

it wasn't just the physical closeness; it was the profound sense of being seen and held, a silent promise that in his arms, you were cherished and safe.

a few minutes had passed when you felt keegan sitting up, you as well on his lap, making you pout “don’t make that face” he said condescending “i need to clean you up yeah?”

keegan carried you all the way down your bathroom, again, still inside you, and seated you on the counter. he took a really long look to your breasts. such beautiful breasts just sitting there, making him want to hold them again.

“enjoying the view” you said in a proud tone, keegan just moved his eyes to your face and laid a small kiss to your cheek. you started feeling how keegan slid his now soft cock out your cunt, once it was all out, he just stayed there, looking at both your cunt and his cock “look at the mess you made love”

his cock was full of his cum, and yours, you felt all his cum slide out of your cunt, now on the counter, the sight making keegan’s cock start hardening again, and you saw that as well.

you just stared at him, beautiful doe eyes, and grabbed his cock. “can’t get tired of this cock huh?” you just smiled, stood up, and dragged him to the shower. that was the best shower sex you’ve ever had.

after the shower, keegan was behind you like a lost puppy, just wanting to be near you, touching your waist, squishing it, as well as your bum, all while you were doing your small skin care.

and on bed? keegan was even more cuddly than you! he said, scratch that, obliged you to be the little spoon. now you had his beautiful face right next to you, his hand drawing small circles in your waist, going near your breasts to tease you, your legs tangled beneath the sheets. you could get used to this.

“so, for how long have i driven you crazy?” keegan heard the cheekiness in your voice, you probably knew keegan was head over heels for you, acting all dumb to torture him, making keegan groan behind you “i’m going to keep it with for a while”

you laughed, putting your hands on top of the one that was on your waist, dragging it near your lips, planting a soft kiss there. when you kissed his hand, an unexpected tenderness surged within him, like a flood of warmth.

in response, he hid his face against your neck, as if to shield himself from the cascade of emotions, laying a few kisses here and there. you really could get used to this.

♡

AHHHHHH the end ;’[ i love fluff, was deciding if splitting this into chapters but i got carried away and made it a one shot jiji

hope u liked it!

#keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #call of duty keegan #keegan russ smut #cod keegan #cod smut #call of duty #call of duty fic #keegan russ #keegan russ fic #keegan russ fluff #cod #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #keegan smut #keegan russ x fic #keegan x reader

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snek-eyes · 9 months

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I keep thinking about what slotting the Job sequence in between the Flood and the Crucifixion does for Crowley’s arc, and his relationship to both Aziraphale and heaven.

@amuseoffyre did a great analysis of the importance to Aziraphale's arc here that sparked this thought, but it sent me down a rabbithole because A+C are both having very different experiences here.

Compare how Crowley bounces up to Aziraphale at the flood vs how standoffish he is when the angel shows up to the Job situation. Aziraphale is the one who's all friendly, "Oh it's you!" while Crowley... is pretty businesslike, at least until he gets the chance to start rubbing the reality of the situation in the angel's face.

The flood pissed Crowley off. Job is the first time we start to see the more bitter Crowley we'll get to know. In the Garden he was bemused about overreactions and almost having fun poking this angel with questions about God's plans. Beginning of the flood sequence he was pretty playful. This whole earth thing hasn't been so bad so far, and oh here's that weird angel again, that's fun.

But then he gets hit with God turning on their creation without warning, again. And the flood was at least in God's name ("That's more the type of thing you'd expect my lot to do," he said. Wasn't heaven supposed to be the good guys?). But now with Job? God turns their back and just... doesn't stop hell. Heaven's hands stay clean while hell dirties their evil little claws. Oh, so this is how things are, Crowley realizes. This is the part he's meant to play. Fine.

And seeing how he acts here... I can't help but feel like he'd mostly given up on Aziraphale after the flood. After Crowley went, "Wtf, this is clearly an atrocity," and Aziraphale stuck to "You can't judge the Almighty!" ...well. Giving away the flaming sword was probably a fluke. Just another tool of heaven, that one. Disappointing, but what should he have expected?

So all through their Job interaction he plays up his demonicness, trying to force Aziraphale to toe the party line and prove Crowley's new view on things right, once and for all. But there is a crack there, because not-so deep down Crowley would love for Aziraphale to surprise him again.

(After all... he is lonely. Try some wine with me, or have an ox rib, angel.)

(Fascinated by the difference in Crowley's gleeful "That's just how it started for me, see you in hell" vs. "I'm not taking you to hell, Angel. I don't think you'd like it." And only admitting to the loneliness once he isn't totally alone anymore; I think the original lie was more to himself than anything. He's angry, he's bitter, these righteous angels shouldn't think they're any better than him, not when they can doubt too. But when it comes down to it? No, I don't actually want to drag you all the way there. Something about guns and miraculous escapes, and his comment about Wee Morag, it's different when it's someone you know, isn't it. Hm. Anyways.)

By the end of the Job situation they have a moment where they confirm they are more similar than they thought. But it's not a happy thing. It won't be until Rome when they start enjoying each other's company just for the sake of it. So at the crucifixion Crowley comes up to Aziraphale still prodding at him. You happy about this, Angel? You smirking over how righteous it is? But now instead of, "You can't judge the Almighty," we get "I'm not consulted on policy decisions." Implying he disagrees without really saying it. And that's enough for now, Crowley will take it.

From the flood -> Job -> crucifixion -> Rome, we see Crowley get angry, then more and more resigned and bitter. Until Aziraphale reaches out and pulls him out of it.

#i like how the Job sequence both shakes things up and doesn't at the same time #it's not totally necessary to make the arc work but the context helps you understand so much more #good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #crowley #v watches good omens #job flashback

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navstuffs · 11 months

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Traffic stop

Pairing: Rookie!Leon Kennedy x BustyF!Reader

Summary: Your sports bra malfunctions during a traffic stop with a shy rookie cop.

Warnings: au obvs, happens in raccoon city, wrote with a busty reader in mind but anyone can read it, shy!leon, accidental exposure, suggestive themes, speeding (DRIVE SAFE PEOPLE!!)

Author's Notes: kudos to my husband for giving me the idea/title. if anyone would like to write a smut version of this, i also wouldn't mind, just let me know! i do have another plan for re2 leon in works cause he is my baby. hope you enjoy your reading!

my leon's masterlist | part 2

It is still hot, you think as you exit the gym after an exhausting leg day. You decide to wear your sports bra while driving home since your car's air conditioner has not worked since you bought it. You always think you will have money to fix it or even buy a new car, but you must work with what you have now.

You sigh, throwing your bag and your shirt on the backseat. The pain in your legs will only worsen, so you decide to drive fast to get home, shower, and relax. And oh, yes, hope the wind provides some sort of comfort on your face. Placing your sunglasses in your eyes, you start going, mentally praying you wouldn't see any cop.

But of course, this isn't your lucky day.

Not even ten minutes on the road, the sound of the siren from a car of Raccoon City P.D. is behind you. You groan an audible no, asking mentally what you did to deserve this.

"Perfect. Great," Your murmur.

You pull into a nearby parking lot, take the paperwork from the glove compartment and throw it in the passenger seat, the air already getting stagnant inside the car, making you sweat.

Your eyes roam to the rearview mirror, wondering where the heck that cop was, when you notice the zipper of your sports bra is half open. You attempt to zip it, but it immediately unzips it again, leaving half of your cleavage exposed. You think it doesn't look bad, so you leave it alone. It is not like you were driving topless anyway.

With droplets of sweat on your forehead, you see the cop coming out in your driver-side mirror. Finally, you think as he takes his sweet time to get to you. He looks young. He seems to take a breath before walking to your car, pulling his pants up and his other hand on his gun, and even someone who doesn't understand anything about cops would know this guy is a rookie.

He approaches slowly and carefully, analyzing your old car, and when he finally stops by your window, the first thing you catch is a pair of innocent blue eyes. Staring right at you.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." You read the name tag Leon Kennedy as his eyes go from your face to your sports bra half open. Officer Leon probably has a great view since your car is on the lower side. He gulps, you don't know if nervousness or something else, then stares directly above your head.

"Afternoon."

"Do you know how fast you were going?" Oh, this one is definitely a rookie, with his voice still showing some nervousness.

"Yeap, I know."

You really don't want to prolong this more than it should, and the way Leon Kennedy seems to stare everywhere except you proves he wants the same.

"Look. I was just trying to get home. Just issue the ticket, and I will be on my way. I will behave, I promise."

That clearly sounded more seductive than you meant to be. You don't judge yourself as a woman who could get out of a ticket by flirting; honestly, you didn't care at this moment. Your whole body is getting sweaty and sticky, with a few drops of sweat coming down from your neck, and your legs are literally pulsating with pain. It is worth trying.

And just for the right timing, you feel a single drop of sweat coming down from your neck to your cleavage. Leon Kennedy's blue eyes follow the trail until the drop disappears inside your bra top, and he gulps, licking his lips.

Well, you may be one of those women who can get away from a ticket by flirting.

"License and breas— I mean, car registration, please."

Leon thanks mentally you don't seem to hear his mispronunciation. You grunt, impatience, turning to grab your documents for Leon. When you turn back at him to hand them, your zipper finally gives up, opening it up completely. It is a nice feeling at first, the same feeling you have from having your boobs released after a long day.

For a moment, you both don't move, too mortified. Officer Leon Kennedy is now staring, really staring, at your boobs. He doesn't even attempt to look away, his face entirely red as a tomato. Your immediate reaction is to try to close the zipper, but it seems it had enough. Leon finally turns around, mumbling an apology.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry, Officer!" You groan as you give up on zipping, going for the shirt under your bag in the back seat.

"It-it is fine!" Leon rushes to say, his voice going high a few tones. If this wasn't embarrassing as it was, you would have laughed at the poor rookie's reaction. But now, great, you were probably going to be arrested for public indecency. You finally find a towel, a medium one, that might work. You cover yourself as best as you can.

After Leon gives you a few moments of privacy, he turns back to face you, and you know, by the expression on his face, you are doomed. You were probably getting arrested for trying to seduce a cop-out of a ticket.

"You can go, ma'am."

"What? Like that?" You wonder before stopping yourself.

"Well, y-yeah. I can see you have much bigger problems to deal with it. Have a good day."

Leon gives you one good final look, a strange glow in his eyes. It seems he wants to say something else, but the moment passes. Leon gives you a slight smirk, his face still red, and walks back to his car.

You watch Leon drive away, your gazes somewhat crossing before he disappears into traffic. You sigh, the external heat forgotten, hoping this isn't your last encounter with Leon Kennedy.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy imagine #I REALLY WANTED TO MAKE THIS A SMUT but i can't #my brain is like pdffftt #the other re2 leon i have is smut

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mcflymemes · 9 days

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THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT - THE ANTHOLOGY BY TAYLOR SWIFT PROMPT LIST * assorted lyrics from the album, some lines slightly adapted for meme purposes but feel free to adjust as necessary

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

trust me. i can handle a dangerous man.

i love you. it's ruining my life.

does it feel all right to not know me?

i am who i am 'cause you trained me.

quick. tell me something awful.

i loved you the way that you were.

we were just kids, babe.

i can fix him.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

you said i'm the love of your life.

way up there, i actually love it.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

do you hate me?

did you think i had it in me?

what if i told you i'm back?

i still miss the smoke.

i'm not trying to exaggerate, but i think i might die if it happened.

you look like stevie nicks.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

i still can't believe it.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

didn't you hear? they called it all off.

it's happening again.

my friends say it isn't right to be scared.

i might just die.

fuck you if i can't have us.

tell me about the first time you saw me.

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

no one's ever had me... not like you.

stay away from her.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

i don't think you've changed much.

that's where i was when i lost it all.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

i hoped you'd return.

do you believe me now?

what if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

what are the chances you'd be downtown?

is it something i did?

oh, we must stop meeting like this.

they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware.

i'm not a donor, but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forwards.

the story isn't mine anymore.

what a charming saturday!

none of it is changing.

wild winds are death to the candle.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

i didn't want to come down.

everything had been above board.

blood's thick, but nothing like a payroll.

you can mark my words that i said it first.

the professor said to write what you know.

all of this to say, i hope you're okay.

your words are still just ringing in my head.

i built a legacy which you can't undo.

who do i have to speak to to change the prophecy?

the effects were temporary.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i guess a lesser woman would've lost hope.

thought of calling you, but you won't pick up.

you're a professional.

long may you reign.

you're an animal. you are bloodthirsty.

now i seem to be scared to go outside.

i don't believe in good luck.

i hate it here.

if i'd been there, i'd hate it.

only the gentle survived.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

are you still a mind reader?

let it once be me.

i haven't decided yet.

i still dream of him.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

it was always the same searing pain.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

it wasn't a fair fight or a clean kill.

she used to say she wished that you were dead.

tell me all your secrets.

they tried to warn you about me.

you're in terrible danger.

i'm the life you chose.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

no one asks any questions here.

tell me i'm despicable. say it's unforgivable.

i'm running back home to you.

you should see your faces.

you knew the price going in.

was any of it true?

who the fuck was that guy?

i don't ever want you back.

did you sleep with a gun underneath out bed?

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

am i allowed to cry?

there's no such thing as bad thoughts. only your actions talk.

they're going to crucify me anyway.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

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gay-jesus-probably · 11 months

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Let me just preface this by saying everyone is allowed to have their own opinions, TOTK is a really fun game, and I'm glad that other people have been able to enjoy the story as well.

...But I'm being dead serious with my complaints about the narrative being 100% imperialist propaganda. And I'm getting really tired of people replying to those posts by saying it can't be imperialist propaganda, because imperialism is bad and the game says that Hyrule is the good guys.

Like, guys. That's not the argument you think it is. Yes, I am aware that the game tells us Ganondorf is a flat, one dimensional character with no ambitions, interests or motivations beyond destroying the entire world for the hell of it, and also it's totally not racist because he's green, not brown like literally every other member of his race. Unfortunately literally all of these things are kind of the entire goddamn problem.

See, the thing is, everyone trying to make these arguments is accepting the game at face value. Hyrule is the perfect and almighty nation chosen by the demigod Zonai, and whose royal family has the right to rule due to their divine heritage. The other races exist to serve the glory of Hyrule, and they're happy to do it. Ganondorf is pure evil and must be stopped at any costs.

But that's not how anything works. The story informing me that Hyrule is the ultimate good that has done nothing wrong is the whole goddamn reason why I don't trust Hyrule at all. There's always more of a reason than that. And the game fucking suggests there was more going on! Ganondorf mentions Rauru has repeatedly 'invited' the Gerudo to become Rauru's subjects, and let's be clear here, it doesn't matter how peaceful those 'invitations' were, when the guy who owns every single magical nuclear missile in the world repeatedly demands you surrender to him, there's always going to be an implied threat of 'do it or get magically nuked'. Just that power difference alone shows us exactly why Ganon would feel threatened enough to invade. It's because Rauru was holding a gun to his head, and Ganon was expected to just trust that he'd never pull the trigger.

And yes, even if it wasn't intentional Hyrule was always threatening to wipe out the other nations, considering the entire royal family walked around openly wearing their magical nukes as cute accessories. If they couldn't be safely hidden away, there wouldn't be four other secret stones sitting untouched in a vault until the last second.

But that's never acknowledged. Of course Hyrule is the only nation with the right to the secret stones; even if other races get to touch them, they can only have them if they swear eternal blind loyalty and servitude to the glory of King Rauru and Princess Zelda. Ganon wanting to have one magical nuclear bomb out of a stockpile of eight of them is proof that he's dangerous and evil. I mean my god, what if he just walked around all day wearing a magical nuke and using its power for his own benefit, that would be terrifying. It's only okay when Hylian royalty does it.

And you can't argue that Ganon betrayed his own people, considering we don't get to know fucking anything about his relationship with his people. He's shows as the leader of the Gerudo, we're told he's a hero to his people, he has soldiers that loyally follow him into battle... and then oh nevermind, they all hate him and will spend eternity trying to atone for sharing a race with him. How did the entire race do a complete 180 in the span of at most a few months? Who cares, what's important is that now they accept they exist to serve Hyrule so they get to be the good guys now and we don't need to know why they were following Ganondorf, or why they stopped following him.

Basically my point is that yeah, I fucking know how the game insists everything went down. That's the entire reason I think it's imperialist propaganda, because the entire story feels like Hylian propaganda to conceal and justify some horrific atrocities that caused all of this. I literally do not believe that I'm getting the story through reliable narrators, especially considering that the only people allowed to actually tell me the story are all the characters that have the most reasons to be heavily biased in favour of Hyrule.

When the game shows me protagonists that have a massive amount of power and control over the entire world, then says the bad guy doesn't like that system just because he's evil, and literally nothing and nobody in the game says anything to oppose that take, I have some questions about what the fuck the story isn't telling me. And I'd really appreciate it if people would stop trying to argue with me just by telling me to stop asking those questions.

#tears of the kingdom spoilers #tears of the kingdom #ganondorf #can you tell that i'm annoyed by these people bcause i'm annoyed #...nothing personal if you are taking the story at face value btw #its just that i'm trying to dig into the story to talk about it #and it's frustrating to have people telling me i'm wrong because i'm analyzing the game #like guys... if someone doing a little bit of analysis is all it takes to dismantle the entire story #then it's not a well written story

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pupcuck · 5 months

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ROTTEN LUCK !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. smut, kidnapping, leon is like mentally gone icl, references to past assault and trauma, non-con, manipulation, suicidal thoughts/reference to an attempt, general leon self destructive behaviour, physical abuse, power dynamics, throatfucking, choking, breath play, somno, 1 instance of drugging, unmentioned age gap, anal, he puts duct tape on your pussy ok just once promise it’s not bad, religious references, 1 mention of vomit and piss not in a sexual way, slight misogyny, panic attack

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

anyway, please ignore typos :3 rbs and feedback is very appreciated :3 my medical knowledge sucks, so keep in mind that all of this is off LMFAO crossposted to ao3 (user clitkiss)

two

Lucky. Leon hates that word. He wasn’t lucky to get out of Raccoon City, he was just barely capable, you have to be unlucky to get into that situation in the first place. You’re a lucky guy, Redfield had told him once, Chris not Claire. Claire isn’t daft. And Leon wonders what is so lucky about him. He’s forty-six and all he’s got is his trusty Matilda, his mother’s old Bible, and a failing liver. His luck is preordained by God and it’s a total sham.

Leon Kennedy’s the one who showed up to drill sessions smelling like sweat and cock. Kennedy’s the one that rolls over onto his front and takes it like a good doggy. Kennedy’s green behind the ears, pretty in the face, and that don’t fare well in a boot camp full of men twice his size. Kennedy’s the one brushing shoulders with the President, got the USA’s most prized dick in his mouth and everyone knows that he wouldn’t dare bite down. Golden boy Leon fucking Scott Kennedy would just go ahead and use his tongue to clean up Graham’s ballsack. And you’re calling that lucky? Bullshit.

The DSO’s modus operandi is strikingly similar to that of the BSAA. He is but a cog in a well oiled machine. There’s one difference, not a dog tag to his name. If he dies, then he’ll die nameless, and he’ll be cremated by something nuclear, and it’ll all be for nothing. Ain’t that just the luckiest thing you’ve ever heard?

He has tried to kill himself once or twice or thrice. He lost count after the fifth. The gun jammed once, a bad joke. Left Matilda rendered useless. Was meant to be him, not her. And if Leon’s being honest, every day is an avid attempt, as in the drinking and praying his liver gives out. Once he managed to get halfway there. Doesn’t remember a lot. Just blood. Lots of blood. Why couldn’t you be quiet about your grief, Leon? Claire’s expression had asked, how I am, how Chris is, how Jill is.

‘Cause he couldn’t. He had to go ahead and splatter his grief all over the linoleum floor. Maybe then someone would find him, and they’d mourn him, and they’d feel sorry for him ‘cause he’d pitied himself enough. Leon told her a joke, yapping away like one of those butterscotch lapdogs. Claire said that in South Korea you’re allowed to snip a dog's vocal cords to stop them from barking. Lucky I’m not in South Korea then. She handed him an orange prescription bottle with his name scrawled on it, and that was that. They didn’t speak for a few months.

Once upon a time Sherry needed him, now he needs her more. Needs her to laugh at his jokes, she’s the only one that does. And he needs her to tell him, I love you, Leon. She’s the only one that says that. No one puts up with him like Sherry does. She puts up with him in the way most women do their fathers. Love their dads unconditionally and nothing can ever fix that. Terrible illness that is. So, yeah, Leon Scott Kennedy is far from lucky. Lonely? Oh, for sure. God. He’s so lonely he feels sorry for himself. That’s one thing Leon has always been good at though. Lending himself a shoulder ‘cause no one else will.

His fingers brush yours in the record store. The hairs on the back of his neck stand. Jesus. Is it getting that bad? Leon’s been without a fuck for a few months and he’s already itching. That’s a new low. When Leon looks up to catch sight of who made his dick swell with their fingertips, he catches your eye briefly. A mousy little thing. Easily spooked it seems by the nervous smile you give him.

You’re on the phone, I don’t know what he likes anymore, dad, yeah—I’m trying to find it—Yes, I know who sang Sex and Candy, dad, Kurt Cobain right? Is that the one he likes? Dumbass. No, I’m not wrong, could you put mom on the phone—Hi mom, yes, I know he’s my brother, mom—Ever since he turned fifteen he stopped talking to me properly—I don’t know what she thinks, mom—

A mommy, daddy, a brother, a sister too he assumes. You’re what they call lucky. Nasty undertone you’re using with your parents. If Leon’s mom was still around he’d talk to her so sweet. She’d tell him to pray and Leon wouldn’t resist. Alright, Ma, Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus Tecum— then his voice would trail off, and he’d pretend to mouth the rest of the hymn ‘cause he remembers fuck all.

He wants to knock you around. Shake you till your brains scramble. Wants you to flinch even when he’s being nice. Leon’s nostrils flare when you raise your voice in the slightest, even if it’s playful, it’s plain rude. How dare you? He can’t even begin to fathom how incredibly lucky you are. The thought crosses Leon’s mind once, twice, thrice. Just how suicide did that day back in September. If you can kidnap the President’s daughter from her bustling college campus, throw her over your shoulder like salt, why can’t you kidnap Miss Nobody from a street corner in D.C?

Your figure is distinguished by a single, flickering street lamp. He sees your shadow. Recognises the silhouette by the shapely legs and how your belted coat flares out to create a dramatic hourglass, Leon’s got a good eye for detail. Oh, it’s kinda sexy watching you in the spotlight, like a makeshift cabaret show, go on babe, bust out the flapper dress, he knows his stuff, he read Gatsby back in high school. He listens out for the tap of your heeled boots, click-clack, click-clack, there you are, you don’t even know what’s about to happen, do you? And it really is that easy. Just like throwin’ salt over your shoulder.

Temazepam, loprazolam, lormetazepam, diazepam, nitrazepam. Some melatonin too. Magnesium’s supposed to help with insomnia. How’s he supposed to know what your body reacts to best? Leon’s not your fuckin’ GP. Chloroform does the trick for everyone. Should’ve invited you out for drinks and roofied you instead.

Leon had gone for an old-fashioned method, listen, he was desperate. He doesn’t usually resort to such bruteish tactics unlike the older Redfield, not that Chris would use a morsel of his strength to harm a lady, but it had to be done. Yes, he choked you out. No, he’s not proud of it. He’s actually pretty disappointed in his lack of preparation. Oh, cut yourself some slack, Kennedy, it’s your first time kidnapping someone, and it was a heat of the moment type thing. To Leon’s dismay, that doesn’t last long, duh, he should know better.

While you regain sluggish consciousness on his couch, Leon’s tearing through his kitchen cabinets for anything to settle you down. Ah. That’s right. Ketamine. Ain’t it horse tranquilliser? What’s that doing here? Honestly, he’s got to stop raiding the infirmary for all they’ve got. A high enough dosage will knock you out for sure. If it kills you, then so be it. Beer for guys, wine for the ladies, and Ketamine for random sluts he picks up on street corners.

You’re blinking to clear your hazy vision, feeling around your crushed windpipe to assess the damage, he leans over you like a nurse from hell. The needle breaks your skin easily, so tender, before you have the chance to kick up a fuss, your eyelids turn to lead and close like a toy babydoll’s do when you lean them back.

Fifteen to twenty minutes, google says. Leon gets down to business, strips you of your clothing, takes you to his room, throws you on the king-sized bed that’s warmed only by him. He kept your panties on. They’re light blue and sensible briefs. A buzzer rings out in his head, bzzzt, boring. A million bitches in D.C. and he picked out the most vanilla one. Just his Kennedy luck ain’t it.

One minute. Leon presses his nose to the fabric of your panties, sniffs like a pig does in its trough, isn’t that just the sweetest smell? Fresh cunt. He licks up the print of your pussy, tongue landing on the hardness of your clit.

Five minutes. With your panties soaked with Leon’s spit, he decides to move ‘em to the side, and he groans in delight when he parts your cushioned lips to find that you’re stickier than toffee pudding, drooly cunt reactive to the pads of his fingers, to the tip of his tongue. He pushes back the hood of your bud, gives it a kiss, then another.

Ten minutes. He’s opened you up, gaped you around three thick fingers, Jesus, you’re so tight. It’s like your cunt’s vacuum sealed. Leon’s fingers prod at the squishy opening of your cervix, his thumb circles your clit, presses down like a button and he’s rewarded with another gush of slick. Beer on tap.

You rouse from your forced slumber at fourteen minutes. Huh. He’ll have to up the dosage next time. “Hi there, sleepin’ beauty.” Leon says in a rather cloying voice, amping up the sweetness when in reality he is less than fond of you. The lucky girl. He strokes your head soothingly, hovers over you to keep you in place. The panic sets in almost immediately, flailing limbs, asinine attempts at sentences that crawl up your throat and spill over. Who are you, get off me, get off me, please. What did I do? I’m sorry, please, let me go, let me go, please, I’ll do anything. Albeit your words are slurred, Leon chooses not to hear you.

“Aintcha just the sweetest thing?” He cups your cheeks, gaze so gentle it’s disarming. “I opened you up, didn’t wanna break ya, just wanted you to wake up before we got it on, I’m a real gentleman, you see.” Before he rapes you, he makes sure to ask: you got a rubber by any chance, sweetheart? Oh, and you don’t like that, you really don’t. ‘Cause your face falls fast like a drop tower ride.

The chance to scream is lost on you when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushes them down your burning throat till you choke and drool in an unflattering manner. Your jaw is too lax to clamp down on him. Leon takes this opportunity to smear his leaky, fat tip over your folds, pushes past the barriers of resistance and slides into your pre-gaped cunt. Lucky bitch. Lucky fucking bitch. Getting yourself a piece of Leon S. Kennedy’s dick. He reserves that for only the finest ladies, aka any girl that has a nice set of tits and dark hair, greying roots are a new preference.

He’s fully sheathed inside of you, head rubbing painfully against your cervix. Bruising it from the look of discomfort on your face as you make stupid-sounding noises around his fingers. “Fuck, yeah, that hits the spot.” When’s the last time Leon had his way with a girl, wanton fucking, pulling hair, slapping— they all want it soft and sappy these days. And so did he up until a certain point. Up until he tried to kill himself maybe. Something must’ve flipped in his brain, now he’s overcome with the need to mess your pretty face up.

Leon’s forehead presses to your clammy one, your sweat is salty on his tongue when he kisses your cheek. Slightly sour scent, ugh, what’s he saying? Acting like he’s a fear-smelling B.O.W or some shit. Fuck off, Kennedy. His hips aim upwards when your body shifts due to the thrashing you’re doing, with each thrust he bottoms out with a wet squelch, rolls his hips into you at a force that knocks any chance of breath out of you.

“If you were a good girl,” Leon smiles, all teeth. They glint in the muddy darkness of his room, black-out curtains drawn so not even the moon gets to see what he’s doing to you, “then I’d be fuckin’ you real slow, real nice, rub that little clit till you came.” Your wrists are both cuffed within his grip, pinned over your head as he drives into you, as if his intention is to tear straight through you.

The heat in his gut uncoils, but he’s timed himself well enough, pulls out ‘cause god forbid he knocked you up. Knowing Leon’s luck he’d manage it. Then he puts his cock in your mouth, “I got some pliers out back.” He says in warning as he jerks the shaft and your lips hesitantly close around the tip when he gives you a mean look. Total lie by the way, no matter how abnormal Leon is he does not own a pair of tooth-pulling pliers. Shoots his load down your throat, you splutter and push at his abdomen to get him off.

He pulls out in his own time, lays beside you. All of his chakras are aligned. Apparently there’s seven, but Leon’s only got two. And they’re entirely dependent on whether he’s sucked and fucked till he’s thoroughly satisfied. By god he is. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, Et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. That’s the rest of it right. He remembers now. You might just be his saving grace, Lucky Girl. His very own Sancta Maria, Mater dei. Damn, you hear that, ma? Leon’s got it down to a T. Maybe some more pussy will get him singing out the rest of the prayer. He can get rid of that statuette on the mantle, swap it out with you.

He doesn't get a word out by the time you’re vomiting a vile mixture of acidic yellow and his seed down the front of your chest. Retching as you choke on the gift he’d given you.

Leon takes you to the bathroom, forces you into the shower cubicle as he sprays you down, not even waiting for the water to go warm. “Dry yourself off,” he gestures mildly to where there’s a few towels stored.

You don’t come back out of the bathroom for five minutes, then ten, then twenty. Don’t even answer when he knocks. Goddammit, Leon. Leave your kidnap victim alone in the room with all the razors, why don’t you? Fucking idiot. When he opens the door, you’re huddled in the corner by the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl and sitting in a puddle of your own piss. Stupid fucking baby. Is this what kids are like these days? When he was your age he made it out of Raccoon City alive, and no one made it out of there. No one lived to tell that story. And you’re here pissing your pants ‘cause he’s given you a nice, hard fucking? He pimp slaps you so hard your teeth clatter.

It takes two weeks for his Lucky Girl to be broken in. Not as long as he expected, so he’s pleased. And when Leon’s pleased, he’s nice. So today you get some screen time. You’re curled into his side, the way a baby bird does under its mother’s wing, squinting at his sixty-five inch TV, egregious really, who needs a screen that big? He’s flipping periodically through the channels whenever an ad break comes on. The 7.45PM news is on. He settles on that and you watch mindlessly, no objections.

The speech blurs like white noise to him, Leon’s not focused until your picture pops up on screen, and he just turns to you with this shit-eating grin. Graduation cap and robe on, all dolled up as you make eyes at him through the screen.

“Baby,” he grins wolfishly, ruffles your hair in a teasing manner, “you look so damn cute there!” Leon watches bright-eyed, suddenly enthralled, they list your name, your height, your weight, all stuff he actually didn’t know ‘bout you. Never bothered to ask. You don’t need a name, you’re just his Lucky Girl. “Don’t like the red lip on you,” he comments flippantly, “A red lip is for whores, don’t you think, baby?”

He was right. You got a daddy, a mommy, a brother and a sister. You’ve got it all. Lucky fucking Girl. A broken sob is torn from your throat, jagged and scratchy as you fling yourself halfway across the room, on your knees as you put your grubby fingers all over his shiny screen. Leon lets you. He finds it hilarious actually. Who’d you think you are? Carol Anne from Poltergeist? Like you’re gonna get sucked into the screen, crawling out the other end like Sadako, back into your daddy’s arms.

Our daughter—My girl, she had her whole life ahead of her—My sister wouldn’t do this—She was so excited to move on after graduation—She’s not the type to run away—My daughter—My sister—Our sister—

Your mother is a mess, barely able to get words out with the way she’s blubbering. “She’s layin’ it on a bit thick, don’t you think, babe?” Leon picks up his beer from the side table, slightly heated under the burn of the lamp. “You look like your daddy, cry pretty like your mama though.”

You stare at him horrified. Jaw hanging open as if it’s unhinged, not in the way a snake does when ready to swallow its prey whole. More in the way of a screaming corpse. When the rigor mortis has worn off, secondary flaccidity sets in, and the mandible drops open. Jeez, tough crowd tonight it seems. Don’t make him sew your mouth up, Lucky Girl. Leon wouldn’t dare, that mouth, that throat is precious to him.

CCTV footage plays on the screen, another sob racks your brittle frame, you didn’t know it was him that day, Leon realises. “Oh, baby, that’s where we met, ain’t that funny?” A blurry image of you on the phone, prattling away to your family like the Lucky Girl you are, he’s just out of shot.

We miss her—Please, if you know anything, if you find anything—Please—

“God, let me get my phone, darling, they look so upset I can’t stand it. I might have to call them up and turn myself in. Give ‘em an early Christmas gift, don’t you think?” If Leon went missing, who would look for him? Hunnigan with all her sharp edges, or Claire with her unwilling loyalty to him? Lucky Bitch. It’s making his temper flare, that’s enough TV time for today.

The screen fades out, goes black when he switches it off. “No, no, no,” you chant, “no, no, no, no, please, please—“

“I’m disappointed in you, baby.” Leon says honestly, sips his beer and laughs mirthlessly. “I thought you’d started to like me.”

You’re not listening, too busy fitting on the rug, grasping at the screen as if you can pluck your family out of it and reunite with them on his living room floor. Leon did think you were getting used to him though. Family’s family, blood is thicker than water. Cum is also thicker than water. And that’s what he’s pumped down your throat nightly in hopes of it clogging up your brain, so you think of nothing but him. Those dogs in South Korea, the ones Claire told him about, he’s got his own special method to take care of your vocal cords. No snipping, no surgery needed. Just the throat training method.

“C’mere, lucky girl.” He clicks his tongue as if he’s calling out for a dog. You lay unmoving, rocking back and forth, whispering to yourself like a crazy person. Bit creepy. Leon stands, he grabs you by the hair and drags you to sit at his feet near the couch. Simple and effective. Backhands you for good luck. He needs it. “Stop your cryin’ I’m getting sick of it.” Leon says, brows wrinkled as he lowers his sweats, brings your head down to rest on his thigh. Your tear-stained cheeks turn him on, the doleful eyes, runny nose. It’s hot. His sad little girl.

“Suck it.” Leon taps the tip against your pouty lips, swollen from his earlier kisses, coats them in his pearly pre, “I won’t ask twice, sweetheart.” You open your mouth, take him like clockwork. He don’t like that attitude. So he pushes your head down on his cock, watches your throat bob, uncomfortably full. Leon pinches your nose, listens to how you panic so nice around a mouthful of dick, gagging in a way you never have before. Not a gag that indicates inexperience, but one that is full of sheer terror, nails leaving red marks on his thighs as you drag them down his skin. Ouch. He’s gotta trim those down.

“You get it now, babe?” Leon hums, he lets you off this time, “Do what I say and it’ll be fine, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Leon,” you nod furiously through gulps of air, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” Fuck. Another one of your panic attacks. He’s not got the patience to deal with this. “I won’t—“ A wheeze, “ I won’t do it—“ A croak, “I won’t do it again.” You’ve learned to handle yourself. Rub your chest with your right hand, stare at the ceiling till you calm down. Leon’s dick is still rock hard. Ready to crack open a walnut.

“Good girl,” he nods, “then get on with it.”

There is nothing you’ve done in particular to set Leon off. He’s just had a bad day. Hunnigan’s senses are much too acute, she thought something was off with him. That put him on edge. So he’s like a ticking time bomb. Just waiting for you to make one wrong move. And you do. You say no to him, pleadingly so, shaking your head as you look at him with your fairytale fawn eyes. Meekly admit that you’re sore and achy and it hurts.

“That’s not your decision to make, sweetheart.” Leon informs you, he grabs a roll of duct tape from the kitchen, nicks at the edge with his teeth and tears a strip off. You bristle, completely still, a thousand thoughts running through that pea-sized brain of yours. “But I’ll be nice today, been waitin’ to fuck your ass anyway.” He puts the strip on your cunt, over your chubby lips to hold them together, it feels strange and icky. The last thing Leon wants to see is blood. He sees enough of that daily. So he’s generous when it comes to prep, busts out the cherry-flavoured lube today, squirts a decent amount on his fingers, cock, and your tighter hole.

You squirm, he watches the unreadable expression on your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest. You’re nervous, but you’re wet, and that makes his chest swell in pride. Lucky Girl finally gets it. One finger slips past the ring of tight muscle, Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, there’s one last line he’s missing. It’ll come to him. Two fingers in, he scissors you open, spits on it just ‘cause it turns him on to see it run down your crack.

That’s enough, Leon thinks when he fits the third. He wants to make it hurt a little. Wants to feel like a big, strong man. He sits back on his knees, flips you over onto your front, he likes you this way. Just takes you in, how your tits hang low, brushing against the mattress when Leon presses a hand down on your back to keep you from arching. He takes his dick in hand and in he goes, easier than he thought. He wonders if you can cum just like this, with his dick pounding your ass.

He fucks like an animal, you gasp and yelp below him, unable to handle it as his hips smack against yours. The duct tape is starting to peel ‘cause your pussy is fucking soaked. That alone makes his balls tighten as he turns you back over to do damage control, and ‘cause he wants to see your face while he fucks. You look like you’re lovin’ it. Alright. So you’re an anal slut. Got it. He pushes back into your ass, groans when you clench around him, the duct tape peeling at the corners, he can’t handle it. Et in hora mortis nostrae. Leon’s mind blanks when he cums, fills your ass and his limp cock slips out. Shit. A-fucking-men. That’s right, he remembers. That’s how you end a prayer.

You don’t cum. He tears the duct tape off clean. You let out a loud ‘Ow, Leon!’ and frown at him. Beads of arousal stick to the piece of tape, your pussy is pulsing, walls fluttering around nothing. Leon kisses your swollen clit, rubs it steadily till you cream on his tongue, sweeter than molasses his Lucky Girl is.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” You tell him shyly, gaze at him with this dumb fucking smile on your dollface that makes his heart squeeze. God, he’s gotta keep you around, his lucky charm.

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

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yandere-sins · 1 year

Note

saw your recent post. your thoughts on yandere naga! ghost and könig? 👀

I kept this ask for a bad day of mine because I knew it would make me happy to write about them ♥ Thank you for requesting!

Warning: Yandere, Implied Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Ghost

♡ I see him as this bulky, black-tailed snake with black scales creeping up his arms and hips and a massive skull pattern of white scales covering his back. He's definitely not in pristine condition, scars having slashed through some of those scales. However, all you can think about when looking at those scars is how hard it must have been to actually leave a wound on this guy. This creature must have fought battles that a human could only hope never to encounter, and wielding a knife or a gun doesn't make you feel safe from him either.

♡ One thing is sure, when Ghost emerges from the dark, it's over for you. He hunts from the shadows and throughout the night, breaking the bones of his prey before killing them. Despite being huge and probably hard to miss if you know what you're looking for, you don't see him coming when he hunts, a true killer on the prowl. You also don't hear or notice him stalking you through the forests, the thicket hiding him from the sun rays that might give away his presence on that fateful day.

♡ However, Ghost is patient and persistent once he has his eye on his prey. Small animals have long breathed a sigh of relief since they are not his preferred dinner anymore. However, if there are no deer or bigger animals to hunt, he doesn't mind grabbing a human to subdue hunger for a while. That is until he meets you. He usually goes for groups of men who he can crush with his tail and who will feed him for a few weeks, so Ghost doesn't need to leave his cave more often than necessary. But you're the best he could find all day, so it's no surprise that he stalks after you until you are far enough away from your pesky village so your screams can't be heard.

♡ Ghost loves the chase more than he likes to admit. It really gets his adrenaline pumping, his instincts warming up and tingling his desires. What little venom he possesses shoots into his fangs out of pure animalistic drive. When you finally catch a glimpse of his black scales reflecting the sunlight, all you hear is the cracking of tree trunks behind you as his body slams into them while he hunts you down. You might be smaller and more agile, but he has the advantage of reach, speed, and stamina. If he were to lunge at you, it would be over. He knows this, and yet, instead of simply grabbing you and snapping your neck, he lets you run away from him, leading you in circles by cutting off your paths until you notice something is wrong. It's adorable when you try to confront him with your puny knife in your shaking hands. One whose blade wouldn't even leave a scratch on his scales. When he rears up to his full size, he can watch the realization changing your expression into one of dread, and when Ghost licks the air, he tastes your fear, exciting him all the more.

♡ With one swift movement of his tail, he has it wrapped around you, your little knife plunging into his scales as you try to get him to let you go. It's barely leaving a chip on him while you feel your body getting slowly crushed. You are definitely not the type of food he was looking for. Your body is too soft and easy to snap compared to the usual mass he plays with. Most of the time, his prey is dead long before he can taste their despairing fear, but you are different, and Ghost can't stop licking the air for more. When he releases you for a moment, you make an adorable gasping sound as your lungs grasp for air, only to struggle again as he tightens his coil around you, squeezing down until your fear coats his tongue again.

♡ Ghost does that a few times, releasing, tightening, tasting. It's as good of an amusement as any, and for the first time in ages, Ghost thinks about the fun of playing around and not being as lonely as a ghost in his part of the forest. He has seen cruelty beyond his needs for food and safety, so it's a nice change to have someone who struggles and fights him despite being hopeless. You might trash and scream when he takes you from his tail and throws you over his shoulder, but the little gasp you make seeing the skull on his back is music in Ghost's ears. He also gets to hear all kinds of sounds as he puts his large hands all over you since you wiggle around so much, finding even softer and squishier places on you that intrigue him.

♡ Soon enough, he drags you into the darkness of his cave and puts you down in his nest. It's not very comfy since he doesn't need it to be. However, he catches himself thinking that something as soft as you will need an equally soft place to stay. For now, you'll have to do with his body. His tail takes up a lot of space, so even though you quickly try to climb and escape the way you thought was the exit, Ghost just picks you up and sets you back down on top of him over and over, yawning as if it was but a mild annoyance while you try to stay alive despite being in his clutches. Eventually, though, he'll have enough of your activities, wrapping your legs in his tail and your body in his arms which are just as crushing. His scales rake all over your skin as he moves every feeling part of his to experience you. His hands wander out of curiosity about your legs and small stature compared to him, pulling at your clothes and slipping beneath them. He rarely thinks about companionship, but he considers it as he continues to taste the air around you, changing from pure fear to fearful arousal while his fingers grab onto your body like the hungry beast he is. Clothes are discarded easily, and as he sandwiches you between his tail and upper body, Ghost decides you are more useful to him alive than you'll ever be as a food source. For once, he'll have some real entertainment in his life ever since he grew out of his rebellious age. It's a more mature type of fun he hadn't considered yet with how rarely he takes an interest in others, and he's all the more excited as he drags his tongue over your body, tasting you for the first time.

♡ After that first encounter, he quickly decides to make you his mate. As such, he knows there are more important things than sleep and hunt he has to do now. Now, he has to protect and feed you (and fill you), find a bigger nest to accommodate your mateship properly, and occasionally hunt you through the forest since you seem to like it just as much as he does. (You never win, but it sure is exciting for him, terrifying for you.) But having been without a companion for so long, the thing Ghost enjoys the most is relaxing with you. For the first time in his life, he likes being awake so he can feel you sprawled out on his chest. He even takes you outside to lay in the sun or bathe in the river with him, carrying you around when your legs are too shakey after another successful mating session. Life finally has meaning to him, so he can't let you go back even when your eyes are filled with longing as you look towards the direction of your village. Because that meaning is you.

König (Got a bit long so I put it under the cut whoopsie lol)

♡ He is a curious fella that, unfortunately, suffers from his extreme size. It has made him an outcast and dangerous creature even with his kind. Since he needs a lot of food, he has been banned to the harsh mountain terrains so other nagas can survive without him cleaning out the forests of any living being. He rarely shows himself to humans. However, when he's in a feeding frenzy, everything is fair game, no matter if he regrets it afterward or not. I see him colored more in earthy tones, and though he is as wide as two men standing next to each other, his tail isn't as long, though still long enough to crush his prey comfortably by wrapping it around once. He has his fair share of scars and lost scales, but it gets very much overshadowed by his steeled muscles. Looks can kill is very much a motto from him. Otherwise, nothing about him is very prominent, allowing him to hide despite his size, especially between rocks and cliffs. Though, to be fair, if he had to fight anyone, he would easily win.

♡ König might be shy, but he doesn't sleep as much as others of his kind, so he can actually experience things throughout the day while roaming his more earthy, rocky terrain. That also made him much more curious about the things that only happen throughout the day, like various visitors from the cities passing through the mountains he occupies. With a tail and strong arms, it's pretty easy for him to climb to any height, and he is intrigued by the humans he comes across since they are much less adapted than he is and still choose this path to travel back and forth. However, this terrain doesn't have much prey to offer. Thus he's plagued by hunger, which—mixed with his curiosity—makes him a dangerous entity to encounter, ready to snap at all times. Otherwise, he isn't openly hostile.

♡ It's very unfortunate that you had to cross the mountain while a storm brewed on the horizon, forcing you to take shelter in a cave. König didn't mean to follow you, but anyone rarely takes a detour in these parts of his territory. There's a moment of panic when he can't seem to find you as you hide from his sight, and he grows much more concerned about finding you than he should. You, however, get to see his tail slither by you a couple of times as you keep your mouth shut, hoping he won't find the entrance you ducked into. There's something blood-curdling about knowing there's a monster out there, apparently aware of your presence. You hope you can just hide until it loses interest. You're not that lucky.

♡ The rain makes it harder to taste you in the air, but König knows these mountains better than anyone. When he finally goes to the ground to spy into the cave, he couldn't see from high up his height, there is the human he was looking for. It's a relief to know you're okay, and his first instinct is to quickly shy away from your wide-open eyes staring at him. However, his tongue dips into the enclosed space, tasting the air. That, combined with those beautiful eyes he can't read, captivates him. You hold his gaze out of pure fear (which must mean he intrigues you too), your body shaking (König is sure that's because you're wet and it's cold), and when his tongue laps out again, he realizes that you must be scared and alone on this mountain while night falls. You're just a little human, after all. König feels bad for you, honestly. He should stay away, but seeing you so vulnerable tugs at his heartstrings. There's too much empathy in his big body to just leave, even though he knows he should. König can't help you, so why put you two in such a strange, precarious situation? He doesn't know how to make a fire, and you can't take the quicker way of falling and climbing down the mountain since you're so fragile. There are a hundred questions in his mind when he feels his stomach tighten with hunger. Thrashing his tail into the dirty ground, you jerk in surprise, and he slams his fist into his belly, refusing to acknowledge his beastly instincts. What would humans do in these situation? How can he help you?

♡ They huddle together. It's his instincts talking. The very same ones he's trying to ignore, but they are right. He might want to refuse the hunger that is making him salivate, but there are more instincts he usually keeps hidden. Ever since he left his birth family behind, he ignored the loneliness building inside of him, especially when the rest of his kind refused him as well. But not having used this ancient knowledge of his kind for so long, König doesn't know where this desire to protect and care for you comes from. All he knows is that you're cold, you keep looking at him "unafraid", and he doesn't really need food at the moment despite you looking very much like a snack. The sounds you make as he squeezes into the cave don't bother his hearing much, but he can't understand what you're saying, which is upsetting. Regardless, he keeps reassuring you that you'll be warm in no time as he pulls you against his chest and settles into his coils. At least he's feeling warm with your body snuggly against his.

♡ It's nice, he has to admit. Listening to your breathing, feeling your heartbeat. He didn't have much contact with anyone for a long time, so even though König has to hold you so he can make sure not to crush you under his body in this small space despite your wiggling, it's the closest to an embrace he has ever gotten. Strangely enough, this situation reminds him of his family and how infatuated his father was with his mate. How he, despite raising his children, was the only one allowed to huddle with König's "mother" and how his mate was his father's most precious possession. Having this kind of life companionship with another creature must be pretty nice. Someone who's warm and soft and who makes the air taste funny and tickles the rough patches on his skin. It would be nice to be less lonely on this mountain of his. To have someone he can explore with and build a nest for—just like his father did for his mate.

♡ König was planning on helping you get back on track once the storm and the night had passed, but he finds himself more and more attached to everything about you. Your tiny legs and the alluring scents coming from between them. Your little gasps and how nicely he can hold your body in his enormous hands. How vulnerable you are. And, of course, he grows attached to the illusions of companionship and killing the dreadful loneliness he was able to ignore until now. He doesn't really want to let you go by the time he had a taste of what you have to offer him. A living, breathing companion. Someone who can't tell him to leave because you don't speak the same language. Someone who has to accept his love out of fear that he doesn't realize you harbor for him. Though he fumbles and makes mistakes, König is keen on becoming a suitable mate for you, too, even if that means taking you to his burrow deeper inside the mountains. It'll be hard for you to leave on your own, but driven by his instincts, he can make it so you'll never want to go out without him. The thought of cozying up the place, preparing it for a family of his own, and then create this family with something as lovely as you are, gets his blood pumping, heart racing. Finally, he won't just have to still his curiosity from afar or become the monster everyone tells him he is. And suddenly, there are a million thoughts in his mind about everything his body and instincts know to do to a mate, overshadowing any doubt or questions he might have on how to make this work. Suddenly, there's only you, you, you, and his loneliness is gone.

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artbyblastweave · 8 months

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I've never made any connections between Worm and the Captain America mythos before. Spill some ink?

Okay, so from a purely aesthetic perspective, the gimme is Miss Militia. She's the most obvious "Captain Patriotic" in the roster, she has the power of GUN, she's the only one who actively buys into the mythology of America specifically. She's a Kurdish woman occupying an aesthetic niche generally held by a rugged squinty white guy. She's an output of the melting pot narrative. She's sort of a rendering of what a grounded superhero who somehow became very aesthetically into America might look like. Not in the craven marketing-driven way of Homelander or Comedian, not in the jingoistic maniac way of USAgent or Peacemaker. She buys it in the broadly left-liberal (USamerican connotation of that term) safe, friendly, reclamative way. Why, what a great rehabilitation of the archetype!

She's also deeply, deeply afraid of rocking the boat. She's got a deepseated childhood trauma related to the bad things that happen when she puts herself in a leadership role. She goes along to get along. When she's proactive, it's usually to point a gun at Tattletale to stop her from upsetting the status quo. She sits through a lot of situations where Steve Rogers, as commonly modeled, would probably plant himself like a tree by the river of truth and go, "Hey, this is fucked up." She more or less capitulates to Undersider domination of the city, in a way that predisposes us to think of her as a voice of reason after all these total nuts that Skitter's been up against- but would Taylor "to relinquish control is a form of ego death" Hebert really be willing to leave someone in charge of the local Protectorate branch who she thought couldn't be corralled? She looks like a beacon, but doesn't- indeed, probably can't- ever truly behave like one. I mean, you can debate the on-the-spot morality of any given one of her judgement calls, that's actually one of the less exhausting Worm Morality Debates to have- but in aggregate, a person in American flag garb who actually meaningfully criticizes the paramilitary organization they're part of is not gonna survive long in that role!

So again, she's the gimme from an aesthetic standpoint. But what I don't really see a lot of discussion of is how Cauldron plays into the riff.

Captain America is institutional, but in a comically morally uncomplicated way. The serum was originally mana from heaven, granted to a living saint, conveniently divorced from any nitty-gritty sausage-making process and even-more conveniently divorced from the horrible consequences of giving the, uh, the U.S government a replicable super soldier process. And in fairness to Captain America, this is 100 percent something the overall mythos eventually patched to my satisfaction; the sausage-making process eventually revealed as prototypical government fuckery driven by human experimentation on black servicemen, the overall Marvel Setting littered with failed attempts by the U.S. Government to recreate that golden goose so they can have their fun new jackboots. (In Ultimate Marvel, this is how almost all contemporary superhumans were created, and this is a state of affairs with a body count in the millions or billions.)

Cauldron draws you in with the same noble rhetoric about greater goods, the same one-off proprietary irreplicable formula- but you don't get the luxury afterwards of representing nothing but the dream. You aren't partnering up with a plucky crank scientist with a heart of gold. You're selling your soul to an organization with an agenda. The narrative makes no bones about the fact that everything you do is fundamentally tainted by the fact you opted into an end product created through torture, kidnapping and human experimentation. You don't get to pull a Kamen Rider by going rogue or opting out or making good use of the fruit of the poisoned tree; you are owned, and everything you do has this Damocles sword hanging over your head- when are the people who bankrolled this going to come to collect?

So that's the question of "who would willingly dress like that" covered, and the question of who creates a serum like that. What about the question of who takes a serum like that? I'd argue that Eidolon is the examination of that. Pre-Cauldron David reads to me like pre-serum Steve Rogers viewed through a significantly bleaker lens. They're both sickly kids desperate to serve, rocketed to the pinnacle of human capability by an experimental procedure. But for Steve Rogers, the crisis was that he had a specific vision of the world and was frustrated by his inability to carry it out. Before the serum he picked fights over what was right and wrong and got his ass handed to him; afterwards he picked those same fights and just started winning instead. The serum neatly solved a problem he had, and to the extent that his mindset is influenced by his pre-serum experiences, it's generally constructive; a desire to protect the weak, help the helpless, an appreciation for people who stand up for what's right even when they're clearly gonna get pancaked for their trouble. So ultimately there's no dark side, downside, or underlying neurosis ascribed to his initial impulse to take that serum.

But with David, it's not a tragic case of the spirit being willing but the flesh being weak. He isn't a preternaturally-noble soul, out to represent the best elements of the American ideal- he kind of represents the inverse, a guy who's been failed at every level while utterly convinced that he's the problem. He's actively suicidal because he's a wheelchair-bound epileptic in an economically-depressed socially-backwards rural town in the 1980s, and he's spent his 18 years of life internalizing the idea that he's worse than useless unless he can somehow find a way provide value to something larger than himself. Doctor Mother finds him in the aftermath of a suicide attempt spurred by his rejection from the army- and he didn't even want to join the army specifically, necessarily, he just needed his situation to be literally anything else, and he took what he thought he could get. And then he finds himself in a position to become a superhero, so he does that, molds himself into that, subordinates himself to that, builds his entire sense of self and values around the value he can provide in that role. No grand design or sacred principles carried over through the metamorphosis. Just relief at finally, finally having something that looks like an answer to the question of what he's supposed to do.

And you know, you know that if Steve Rogers was facing down the barrel of being depowered, he'd smile and nod, he'd Cincinnatus that shit. It's happened before. But for David, the emotional trauma and self-worth issues that caused him to roll the dice on a Steve-Rogers treatment never really went away. When would it? He's been Providing Value as a ten-ton Hammer Against Evil for thirty years. No family, no social life. Certainly, no incentive on his handler's part to lance his Atlas complex. So he barrels towards atrocity in the name of remaining useful. Admittedly, this is where the comparison breaks down in a significant way; Captain America is much more of a symbol than he is an irreplicable powerhouse, so it's not catastrophic if he's taken off the board. Eidolon is so unbelievably powerful that his myopia and self-centeredness actually do align with a real problem everyone else is gonna have if he loses his powers. But in terms of the starting points- I think that Steve Rogers embodies the myth about why you'd want to join the army that badly. Eidolon is, I think, much more closely modelling why you'd actually want to join the army that badly.

#apologies for the delay in responding #worm #wildbow #parahumans #worm meta #eidolon #thoughts #meta #miss militia

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schrijverr · 1 month

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How to Survive Gotham as a Goon

Late one evening, a goon is there to witness his boss – Red Hood – shoot at Robin. Which means he goes through the five stages of grief as he imagines all the ways Batman will skin them, trying to get Red Hood to stop before it’s too late, which only leaves him with more questions.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: references to violence & gun shots

~~~~

Joseph does not want to die. He especially does not want to die at the hands of Batman. It might seem unlikely that that will ever happen, even if Joseph is a henchman, however watching his boss whip out a gun to shoot at Robin, he knows it might only be a matter of time.

It’s kind of the unspoken rule of the goon and henchpeople underworld to not hurt the kid in a way that’s permanent. While the big villains don’t keep to that rule, Joseph had hoped that Red Hood, with all his rules surrounding children, would be different.

However, all that hope is snuffed out when the two of them are taking a smoke break and Hood spots the kid on a warehouse across from their own.

Joseph is immediately on guard as he goes to scan around for the Batman, despite knowing it’s quite useless. But Hood stiffens in anger and screams: “You!” as points at Robin.

The giggle Robin lets out is heard easily as it echoes across the yard. It sends shivers down Joseph’s spine. He knows Robin is just a kid, but all goons and henchpeople have learned to fear the sound of that laugh and it isn’t any less intimidating when he can see the kid giving them a jaunty wave.

Hood’s street instincts must be broken, though, because he doesn’t do any of the things you’re supposed to, instead scrambling for his gun. Joseph is so in shock that he doesn’t even stop him when the first few shots ring out.

Across from them, Robin back flips away from where he was just sat, thankfully not getting hit by any of the bullets.

Robin starts to run and Hood follows him with a spray of bullets, yeering loudly: “Yeah, fucker, ya better run! Ya better fuckin’ run! If ya ever pull tha’ shit again, I’m killin’ you. Killin’ you! Ya hear me?”

Joseph gathers his senses and against the better instinct of keeping his boss on his side, jumps Hood, pushing his gun away as he exclaims: “Are you crazy!?” while Robin disappears over the rooftops.

Hood pushes him off and Joseph lets him, though he likely couldn’t have stopped Hood even if he wanted to, the man is built like a brick house. “What’re you onnabout?” Hood frowns, like he truly doesn’t realize who he just shot at.

“You shootin’ at Robin,” Joseph exclaims. “Do you have any idea the kind of carnage ya would’ve brought down on us if ya’d hit ‘im?”

“What?” Hood asks, sounding truly confused and a little taken aback.

“Do you really not know? By your accent I would’ve sworn ya were from ‘round these parts,” Joseph replies, more confused than normal by his enigma of a boss.

“Well, I’ve been outta the loop for a bit,” Hood grouches. “Explain.”

“I mean, most of the big fish don’t keep to it, but it’s common knowledge to not hurt Robin too bad unless ya want the big Bat to rock your shit,” Joseph explains. “I was already in the henchin’ business when the little guy first hit the street. Course we were all wary of ‘im but what ya gonna do? Fight a little kid?”

Hood lets out a bitter snort, commenting: “Yeah, who’d do that.”

Joseph isn’t sure where that comes from and hesitates for a second, then cautiously goes on: “But the kid was good, better than any of us thought. Fuckin’ embarrassing tha’ was. So we started fighin’ back a little, ya know. Actually punching the kid here and there. It was Jimmy who first truly hurt the kid.”

“Wait, Vegetable Jim?” Hood asks.

“Yeah, isn’t a vegetable anymore. Sonnabitch’s damn lucky that Wayne Enterprises offers compensation for those hurt while working, including hench work,” Joseph laughs a little bashful and awkward. “He clipped the kid with a baseball bat, broke his arm. God, I never heard a kid wail like that,” Joseph grimaces at the memory. “What’s worse is that the kid called for his dad. His dad.”

“Wait, tell me more,” Hood asks, sounding gleeful now, which weirds Joseph out a little. “Like was it super pathetic? Did he really just break his arm, nothing more?”

“No, nothin’ more, just the arm,” Joseph answers carefully. “And ya know how kids can get, it was piercin’ and whinin’. Why’d ya wanna know? Poor fella did nothin’ to ya. You’re to young for that.”

“Nah, I know that, just gonna bully the shit outta him when I see him,” Hood grins and now Joseph is fully confused, because from what he’s heard their first baby Robin is now Nightwing in Blüdhaven and they’re not planning to expand that way. However, before he can ask, Hood says: “Sorry, continue.”

“Well, uhm, Batman came immediately. It was carnage, like I said,” Joseph replied. “Jimmy became a vegetable for a year and a half. Bats usually tries to give us injuries that’ll only last a few weeks max, so we all knew we’d fucked up with that.”

Hood is quiet at that and Joseph explains: “Jimmy was the first and one of the worst, but all the goons tha’ ended up in the hospital for longer than three months hurt a Robin. I think the worst might be those tha’ helped, uhm, that villain kill the second Robin. His organization’s still recoverin’ from tha’ one. Think it’s the closest the Bat ever got to killin’ a man.”

Joseph knows that Hood has some deep seated grudge and hatred for Joker, despite taking his old moniker. So, he isn’t sure how well it will land.

He holds his breath as he watches how his boss will react, hoping he isn’t about to get a bullet in the leg. With Hood you’re less likely to get one in the head, but he’s absolutely not above taking out your femur or kneecap and that also sucks.

However, Hood surprises him. Joseph has always guessed that Hood is younger than he pretends to be, but he now sounds like a lost kid as he asks: “Really?”

“Yeah, boss, the Bat don’t play around when it comes to his Robin,” Joseph answers, suddenly feeling like he’s talking to his own son, instead of his crime lord boss. “New kid’s lucky. I mean, he made Batman nicer, god was he fucked when the second one died. But Stan over at Mr. Freeze’s operation cracked a few of his ribs by accident a coupla weeks after the Bat took ‘im in, I hear he still eatin’ out of a tube now. Bat’s gotten more vicious.”

Hood doesn’t say anything and to avoid feeling awkward Joseph just keeps talking: “Heard through the grapevine tha’ the kid got attacked pretty bad at that fancy Tower they’ve got out there, if the guy who did tha’s capable of thought, it’ll surprise me.”

At that Hood shifts slightly and Joseph is surprised to see a bit of guilt in his stance. It’s not something they see often from their boss. Like everything this smoke break, Joseph has no clue how to react to it.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to, because Hood speaks first. Softly he says: “Guess the kid’s lucky. Just hope the Bat’s nearby when he needs ‘im.”

“Yeah, suppose,” Joseph agrees. “Though he usually is. Never seem ‘im leave the kid alone, especially this one.”

“Good, I’d kill ‘im otherwise,” Hood grunts.

While it fits with Hood’s penchant for protecting kids, Joseph is still thrown off by it, since Hood was shooting at Robin earlier. So he gives him a look, before saying: “I mean, ‘s good tha’ he worries. Kid’s a sprout. Must be older than my boy with the way he talks, but by god is he skinny.” Joseph laughs. “It’s almost funny tha’ I worry for the kid.”

“Nah, worry’s good,” Hood surprisingly assures him. “Wouldn’t be the same if he weren’t jumpin’ ‘round, even if he’s a nuisance.”

“That why ya were shootin’ at ‘im?” Joseph can’t help but ask, even though he knows it’s stupid. It is just- he can’t help it. Not after this strange conversation.

“Kinda,” Hood shrugs. “Little shit needs to learn not to touch my shit. Fucker moved my furniture, I like where my furniture is.”

“He was in your home?” Joseph exclaims, because what the fuck? Why didn’t they hear about it. If the Bats are investigating them close enough to break into their boss’s home, they have a big problem. Very big.

“Yeah, fucked up my alarms too, even though he got a perfectly good key,” Hood mopes and Joseph’s brain screeches to a halt.

Almost as if he’s misheard he asks: “He got a key? Robin got a key? A key to your home?”

“Not voluntarily,” Hood sulks, seemingly not aware of how fucked up that is. “He’s a little stalker. Still. Stole it and copied it.”

“We need to change the locks,” Joseph says, getting up immediately to get going. “Who knows what they’re after. You- you need a protective detail. We need to up security.”

Next to him Hood startles, looking surprised. Then he laughs and waves him away: “Nah, nah, no worries, Joseph. No worries. The Bats ain’t after us.”

“They broke into your home,” Joseph feels the need to point out, because that’s a very important and very worrying detail.

“Just Robin. And just to move my shit and eat my leftovers, which is fuckin’ rude, he has his own chef at home, I have to cook all by myself and it isn’t like he chips in for the groceries,” Hood complains, while Joseph just stares at him, bug eyed.

After a beat, Joseph says: “Uhm, boss, I- uh, I hafta ask. How- how close are ya to the Bats, because that ain’t normal. No- uh no ‘fence.”

“Batman can go suck a dick and Robin needs to go back to school,” Hood scowls. “Kid shouldn’t be out here and I’m not talkin’ to the old man. But he’s a persistent little shit, I haven’t shaken him yet. Doesn’t look like I will.”

That answers absolutely nothing, but does tell Joseph that he doesn’t really want to know, because his brain is putting things together, but not things he wants to think about, because if he thinks about it, he might realize that his boss is a teen and he doesn’t think he can handle the mental weight of knowingly working for a teen.

So, Joseph follows another unspoken rule of the goon and henchpeople underworld and keeps his mouth shut when the boss is spewing nonsense.

He already has a kid to raise, he doesn’t want to think about raising his boss and by the sounds of it, the boss already got people looking after him. Even if they annoy him. Joseph is just going to be grateful about that and ignore the rest.

And pray each Sunday in the Church he doesn’t go to anymore that Hood is gonna keep missing the kid when he shoots. He hasn’t faced that sort of wrath from the Bat yet and he doesn’t plan on ever doing so.

Best to keep his head down and follow all the unspoken rules. Next time he’s smoking alone or with more people than just the boss. He has his blood pressure to think about.

#rr writing #dc #dc comics #detective comics #jason todd #tim drake #robin dc #robin #tim drake as robin #red hood #OCs #red hood goon #tw: violence #tw: gun use #batman #batfamily #batfam

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pastorpresent · 1 year

Text

I love weirdcest bro. I love it even more when Sam and Dean are just oblivious to it. Bobby catches them just holding hands while they watch TV and just sort of stares. They notice him there, but their fingers don't separate. It doesn't feel weird or wrong or bad because Sam got hurt, and holding hands is just convenient because it means Dean can keep checking his pulse, because he needs to. It's the only thing that settles him down.

Or when Mary returns, and is living with them in the bunker. She watches Dean cook dinner. Sam's sat at the breakfast bar watching with what she could only describe as adoration in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. It feels off, but she scolds herself. Tells herself it's a good thing that her boys care for each other so much. But then Dean leans over with a spoon, guiding it to Sam's mouth with that same sort of fondness, and her uneasiness grows until she leaves the room and waits to be called in for dinner.

Or when John walks into the motel room late one evening. One of the three beds in empty, and his eyes land on his boys sharing a bed. Dean's got his arms curled around Sam in an almost protective manner, and Sam is curled up against his chest. Sam's seventeen, Dean is twenty two. John figures the embarrassing position was unintentional. Convinces himself of the fact so clearly that he snaps a photo on his phone to use as blackmail, before 'accidently' kicking the bed and jolting the pair awake. Dean's arm remains around Sam while the brunette blinks blearily, and his oldest starts reaching for his gun.

"Just me, sorry guys. Knocked into the bed. Probably a good thing," he joked, gesturing to them.

Sam looked confused and tired, remaining slumped against his brother. Dean looked pissed. He hadn't moved the arm situated around Sam's waist, and John can't stop fixating on it.

"Just go to bed, dad," Dean sighed, lying down as the adrenaline left him. He brought Sam down with him, who went easily, returning his head the Dean's chest.

"...right," John muttered, heading to the bathroom.

He deleted the photo, and resisted the urge to burn the phone completely.

#weirdcest #wincest #gencest #etc #just samdean being fucking disturbing to everyone in their lives except each other #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam and dean #supernatural #samdean #john winchester #sam/dean #mary winchester #bobby singer

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nattyswann · 3 months

Text

I’m not that bad. Am I?

Parings: sub!reader x dom!ace

Warnings: not really any warnings because most of this is just bickering between Ace and y/n but there is a bit of smut at the end!

Summary: if there was one thing you absolutely despised, it was pirates. You’ve encountered a few of them and they all were horrible people. Well…except the most recent one you’ve met..

• You can still remember the first time you met him. You hated his guts. Couldn’t stand the way he carried himself and how sweet he was to everyone around him. Well..the truth is you only really hated him cause you knew he was a pirate.

• “Can you guys believe it?! Firefist Ace is in the center of town, fighting a group of bandits!” Now, this you had to see. You followed the group of people. When you finally pushed your way through the large crowd, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Ace was putting those bandits on their asses. He used his crazy devil fruit power to handle them like they were ants. “Are you ready to admit it?”

• The leader of the bandit crew got up but he seemed like he was in rough shape after going a few rounds with Ace. “Screw you!” The bandit yelled out before charging at Ace. “Come on. Have you learned nothing!” Ace yelled back as he sent a Firefist straight at the wicked man. “All I needed you to do was admit that you tried to steal this young lady’s coin bag. This all could have been avoided.” Ace blew the tiny flame from his pointer finger as if it were a gun he just fired.

• The residents of your town cheered for Ace while he tried to make his exit less heroic as possible. “Please.” He held a hand up as he scratched the back of his head. “No need to thank me.” The townspeople continued their joyous cheers and applause. Ace hated this part of saving people. The part where they all surround him to offer him gifts to show their thanks. Ace just wanted to be a good guy and then go on his way.

• Ace got through the people and tried to waved them off but as soon as he turned around, there was a second large group of people. Now this was the part that he LOVED. The part where all the young ladies of the town came to thank him. “That was so heroic! Thank you for saving me.” The woman he defended rubbed his arm as she thanked him. “You are so strong. Where are you from?” Another woman asked while she stroked his long hair. You watched as the women fell head over heals for him. You weren’t like them though. Cause you knew his secret.

• When Ace finally got away from the village and out of sight from everyone he pulled out his log post. “Dammit. How much longer is this gonna take. I can’t stay on this island anymore. I need to set sail.” Just then another young woman approached him. That young woman being you. “Set sail?”

• Ace jumped up when he heard the voice of a woman behind him. He quickly shoved the log post back in his bag and looked over his shoulder to face you. “Oh, hey there.” He flashed you a smile. “What are you doing so far away from your town? Won’t they be upset if your wandering alone?” You didn’t respond as you just glared at him. You didn’t like him and wasn’t gonna fall for his charms like all the other townspeople and helpless damsels. “I know what you are.” You crossed your arms. “You’re a pirate. No better than the dirt on the bottom of my shoe.”

• “Oh? That’s really what you think?” “Yep. Im not sure why you’re even here.” Ace scoffed and his smile quickly went away. “Someone’s daddy raised them with a complex.” You furrowed your eyebrows at his statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” “It means that you think you’re better than me just because I’m a pirate.” Ace put his backpack on and strutted past you to start walking back towards the village. “Where do you think you’re going?”

• “Dont worry about me so much. Im just a lowly pirate after all.”

• Ohhh this guy was grinding your gears. You didn’t wanna allow him to just walk back into town but who were you to try to stop a crazy pirate. He could snap and attack a girl like you. If only you really knew what ace was thinking. He was never gonna hurt you. He would never hurt a women. He actually liked you. Thought you were really pretty.

• A few hours later and nightfall had come. Ace needed a place to settle for the night before he can take off tomorrow morning. He keeps walking throughout the town, in hopes of finding a sign that is welcoming a overnight stay. When he finally arrived at a building that had a sign that said one night there was only 40 berries, he couldn’t pass up that deal. Upon walking in, he got greeted by two women and he gave them a smile before bowing. When he lifted his head, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the face he was seeing. It was you! It was the pretty chick who was all mad at him earlier. Who woulda guessed that her parents owned this inn? Small village, huh?

• Once Ace got his room he began to settle in before hearing a light knock on his door. When he opened it, another smile creeped on his face. “We have got to stop meeting like this.” He said as he leaned on the doorway. “I don’t wanna meet you at all. In any circumstance.” He gave you a confused look while he tilted his head. “Yet…you came to my door..”

• “I work here. I still have a job to do.” You then forced a smile back at him. “Could I get you anything else before you turn in for the night? A glass of water or a snack before bed, perhaps?” You said through your gritted teeth. You couldn’t believe that you had to do this. If anything, you wanted to punch him in his face and curse him out for tricking your parents like their fools. “Mhhh.” He put his finger on his chin as if he were actually thinking. “I could use some company tonight. It gets lonely on the seas. So I haven’t spend the night with a women in a long time.”

• That was it. The last straw that made you snap. You took your hand and slapped it across his face. Ace was clearly caught off guard for a moment but he remained nice and let his smile return to his face. “You’re strong..” The man put a hand over the spot you slapped before continuing. “but I think you misunderstood me. I only want someone to talk too. Nothing more, I promise.”

• You scoffed but then thought about it. This was actually perfect. All you had to do was give him a few minutes of your time and then you ask him for a favor. That favor being to stay away and never return back here. “If I talk with you then you have to promise me that you will pack up and leave by the morning.” You said as you stomped your foot. “So if I promise to leave by the morning, you will stay here and keep me company?” You nodded your head and awaited his answer.

• “Deal.” He opened the door more for you to come inside. “Come in. Let’s talk.”

• You both sat and talked for about ten minutes until ace managed to slip in a compliment that caught you way off guard. You tried to hide the sudden blush that appeared on your face but Ace caught a peak of it.

• “I see ya’ blushing over there.” You hid your face and turned away from the man. “Barely! You must think I’m easy.” “Not at all, hun. I just think you’re really beautiful when you get all shy like that.” He put his elbow on the armrest of the car he sat in and leaned on his the palm of his hand while staring at you. “I also think you’re beautiful when you get all mad at me.”

• You guys sat for longer and just talked and talked about various different things. “This was nice. I surprisingly enjoyed this talk.” You quietly said. “I have been quite lonely and don’t really find much people to talk to besides my parents and the occasional fling. So thank you.” The tension in the room had started heating up way faster than you had expected. For some reason you had started to feel attraction for this pirate. When talking wasn’t enough to smooth the loneliness in each other’s hearts, Ace took it a step further and put a hand on your thigh. “Just know that you don’t have to be lonely all the time.”

• When you felt him reach your skin, you jumped a bit but let him rest his hand there. He was sort of right. You hated sleeping in an empty bed at night. So maybe tonight you didn’t HAVE to be alone. Needless to say, one thing led to another and now he has you right where he wanted you. In his bed with his hands roaming your body. “I can’t believe I’m letting this happen.” You grunted. Ace immediately paused and leaned up. “If you don’t want too then that’s fine. You can leave and I wont follow.” He put his hands up and gave you an opportunity to dip if you changed your mind. When you remained in the bed, Ace smirked and kissed you on the lips. “I knew you wanted me.”

• “Shh. Don’t be too loud, baby.” Fast forward a few minutes later, here Ace was - whispering in your ear while he rocked his hips into yours. “Your mother and father are just on the other side of this wall, aren’t they? What would happen if they found out their innocent daughter were gettting fucked by a pirate?” You wanted to hate him so badly but the way he was abusing your hole felt too euphoric. How could you betray yourself and let a pirate like him smooth talk his way between your legs.

• “Aghh!” You groaned out before ace could quickly put a hand over your mouth. “This isn’t working. I need you to be more silent for me or else we’ll get caught.” You reached up to remove ace’s hand from your face. “I can’t, Ace..it’s too much.” Your sentences came out all moany and broken but the way you said his name got Ace all riled up.

• “Really?” You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “I could have swore I was no more than a dirty pirate to you. Now, you wanna moan my name?”

• You shook your head and tried to suck up your tears, not wanting Ace to see you crying from pleasure. “Stop it. It’s not like I like you or anything! I just..” you tried to think of how to word it to where he won’t get his ego fed. “I just wanted someone to make me feel good. I haven’t felt this good in a long time, Ace.”

• Ugh. Why would you tell him that. Out of all the other ways you could have worded that. Ace giggled and kissed you sloppily on the neck. “I bet you haven’t. You’ve never been fucked by a pirate before. I’m glad I’m your first one.”

• “Don’t get cocky. It’s not like you have my virginity.” “Don’t need it.” Ace took his hands and started fondling your tits while ever so often, suckling on your sensitive nipples. “I’m just glad I got to have you in general. You’re such a prize, babe.” The pirate didn’t let up on his fast strokes into your womb. He was minutes away from bursting inside but he needed to wait until you came for him. Ace had to make sure he exceeded your standards and make sure you change your mind about pirates.

• “Mmhh! Ace I’m c-cumming!” You wrapped your arms around his back to hold him closer. “Feels so good!” When Ace felt your pussy squeeze him and squirt on his cock, he had to pull out before he accidentally let himself go inside you. “Come on. Finish cumming on my cock so I can cum too. I’m almost there!”

• “Not inside!” Ace shushed you. “I know babygirl. Just let me take care of you.” He said as he swiftly pulled out and started stroking himself to finish on your body, painting your stomach in his white liquid. “See? Your pirate boy knows exactly what you want.”

• When you felt the bed shift and caught Ace standing up, you whined. “What are you doing?” He turned to you and giggled at your cute voice and expression. “Well we had a deal. Didn’t we?” He started putting his clothes on. “You told me to hit the road right after.” He looked back over at you and hated seeing the upset look you had. “Unless…you would rather I stay..?” “I mean..you did pay for a full night..it would be a waste of berries.”

• He threw his clothes back on the ground and hopped back in the bed with you. “Ah. So you actually like this little pirate?” You chuckled and covered your blush. “N-No! I just…think I judged you a bit too harshly..” you felt embarrassed to say it but you were wrong. Maybe not ALL pirates are bad..

#one piece smut #portgas d ace smut #ace x reader #ace smut #smut

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b33zlebubz · 3 months

Text

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER FIVE - adding fuel to the fire

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

There's a new guy whenever you walk up to the plane. You're never one for people, especially this early in the morning—and you dread conversation as you rub your sore eye and begrudgingly approach.

There wasn’t anything about him that immediately screamed good or bad. He was taller than Price and the aviator sunglasses he's wearing glint against the sun, his arms elbow deep in the engine of the small airplane you are likely about to board. He's in a thick coat despite the warm weather and his laugh was far too loud for your very sleep-deprived brain.

Nikolai. The pilot. Price had mentioned him off-handedly days ago.

You're not sure what to make of him, at first. He's talking with Price whenever you approach, a hand over your brow as you squint against the pink glow of the rising sun that beams over the busy runway. It's warmer out now, and you regret your choice of a hoodie as the sun reaches the dark fabric. Considering where you're going, though, you're pretty sure that won't be a problem for very long.

Price raises an eyebrow at the backpack of stuff and the new clothes on your back, and you pretend not to notice how you can see the gears turning in his head as you turn to the new person in the group. If he’s mad at the obvious evidence that you snuck out, he’s good at hiding it.

Nikolai beams as he sees you walk up and laughs as he ruffles the hair on your head and exclaims in a thick Russian accent: "Look at you, all grown up now! Haven't seen you since you were just a wee thing in Sparky's arms!"

That name again.

"Sparky?" you question, looking at Price as you bat away the hand on your head.

"Your dad," the captain clarifies, patting your arm. "Liked his fire, from what I hear."

"That's one way to put it," Nikolai adds, chuckling. "Your old man lit a whole cartel base aflame, once upon a time. Burned the whole thing to the ground. Was only a bit older than you when he did it, too."

The lighter from the shoebox in your room suddenly feels a bit heavier in your pocket, and you fidget with it as you're soon ushered onto the small plane. You shove your backpack up top and take a random seat on the end. Soap and Ghost follow after you, and the shorter sergeant visibly hesitates when Price holds a hand up, stopping him from sitting down in the seat directly behind the cockpit.

"Kid," he says, cocking his head at the seat. "You sit here."

Soap speaks up, "Aye—"

"Save it, Soap."

You can almost feel Soap's stare burning into the back of your neck as you hesitantly take what must be his usual seat. Ghost chuckles somewhere behind you as Soap strides further back into the plane instead to share a seat with him instead. After that, you watch Price duck out of the plane again for a few minutes, have a very animated talk with Gaz outside, before both him and the sergeant filter in as well.

Gaz sits down in the seat across the aisle from you, letting out a breath that sounds relieved as he lets his head fall back against the seat.

"Captain chew you out for helping me?"

His lips curl into something that is half-grimace, half-smile, "A little."

That piques your interest. "Then what'd he say?"

"'Just asked if anyone saw us."

"Did anyone see us?"

"No."

"Good," you turn your gaze to the window, shifting in your seat to accommodate for the sore bruises on your upper back. "Nobody knows I ate shit on the fire escape, then."

He snorts, shaking his head.

Soon after, you're up in the air.

With nothing to do but stare out the window and clench the armrests whenever the plane vibrates and shifts, you take to people-watching.

You feel almost comically out of place, watching everyone else go about everything like this was all just another day. They're all in fatigues aside from Nikolai, camo pants and T-shirts with respect for Ghost—who seems to throw the idea of uniform out the window. Nikolai and Price talk in front of you, though you can't hear what they say through the wall and the rumbling of the engine. You hear the Lieutenant and Soap behind you accompanied with the sound of scribbling. Ghost speaks in a low voice every so often to tell Soap the nose is crooked or you drew one of the eyes lower than the other, followed by a quiet curse from Soap and a few seconds of loud erasing. Occasionally, his boot brushes against the back of your heel, and every time it does you swear you could kill him.

Gaz offers you a few snacks, muttering something along the lines of Russian base food is somehow worse than the shit they give you at American D-Facs, before he is sound asleep twenty minutes into the plane ride. His lean arms are folded over his chest and his cap is tucked over his eyes, casting shadows over his dark face. You're not sure why he sat with you—but you figure maybe it's the same reason he took you to your house last night. Pity.

Before any of this, you would have resented him for it, but instead you find yourself wondering what you might be able to do to return the favor. You’ll have to corner Price and ask him for advice or his favorite color the next time you get the chance. He might get a kick out of a friendship bracelet…or something. You’re not entirely sure what your thought process was behind grabbing colored yarn out of your drawers whenever you were packing, but you figure you mine-as-well put it to use.

Not like you had anything else to do.

Not wanting to dwell in your thoughts too much, you take to inspecting the lighter in your pocket. It's old and rusted; you doubt you've touched it since tossing it in the box with the rest of your dad's things years ago. The hinges of the cap take some effort to pry open through the dirt crusted onto it, but it still works, and you take the time to thumb off all the gunk. Rubbing the crust off the bottom, you come to realize there's something scratched into the metal. Your brow furrows in confusion whenever a name stares back at you.

RILEY

"The kid's a fucking liability is what they are." Soap's hushed voice catches your attention, and you shove the lighter back in your pocket, listening in a little closer, "Just another loose end to carry around."

You take a breath, shifting your gaze to watch the ocean out the window. Suddenly, you really miss your phone. Some loud, angry music would really be great right now.

"Price has his reasons, and you have your orders. Best not question them."

"'Bet they're lying about not knowing the codes…" Soap huffs, ignoring Ghost's comment. "Just so that we'll protect their sorry ass."

For the first time in your presence, Ghost actually sounds like he might be irritated, "Wouldn't blame 'em if they were, mate."

"They're gonna flip the whole mission tits-up," Soap replies, shifting in his seat behind you to whisper quieter to his Lieutenant. "We're harboring some dead guy's kid—who has zero training and zero experience, might I add—around a fuckin' warzone for no reason. What if Graves, or someone worse, gets 'em and spills our guts? What if they die?"

"Sounds like you need a little more faith in your Captain."

Soap scoffs, "Didn't take you as a dickrider, LT."

"Shut up, Soap, fucking hell…"

After that, they fall silent. You bite back the frustration that bubbles in your chest, filing it back in your brain with everything else from this week to think about later, when you were alone with a pillow to punch.

The plane ride is nearly a full day, and by the end of it you feel like you left half your brain in Texas and the other half in the Atlantic. Waking up way earlier than necessary to break into your foster home definitely didn't help, either. Sleep is fleeting, but when you do happen to catch a few naps, Ghost’s blood-stained mask still fills your brain. This time, Soap's voice echoes around it.

Gaz is the one to stir you awake whenever you all land. It's dark when you open your eyes save for the dim plane lights, and quiet other than the tired shuffling and grumbling of the others gathering their things. Outside, it's freezing, dark, and snowing—and for a moment it feels like you might still be dreaming.

You pause in the parking lot you find yourself in to look up at the heavy snowflakes that flutter around the otherwise silent landscape. Your breath fogs up into the air above you and the cold makes your ears and nose sting. Spending the last few years on the lower regions of the west coast, snow was a concept that had slipped your mind until now. You remember, vaguely, a time where your father would chase you around a yard—throwing snowballs at you as you laughed and attacked him—and you swallow thickly. You're not sure if the sudden thought is a dream you had once, or perhaps a really distant memory, but it's comforting just the same.

Price lags behind the others, noticing how your footsteps pause behind him. He eyes you, for a while; and watches your bruised eye close against the gentle snow and your fists clench and unclench repeatedly.

“Kid.”

You turn to face him, looking dazed. “Hm?”

“You alright?”

He holds your gaze, his eyes heavy with concern. The question isn’t fleeting. He expects an honest answer this time.

Your mouth opens to say the same response you’ve been saying for days to ward off curious people. You hesitate, however, when scenes from the past week flash through your mind and your mouth snaps shut again. Skull mask. Rifles. Pity. Fluorescent lights. Tactical gear and a scar across the cheek.

You let out a breath that shudders slightly and you shake your head.

“Just…” Your voice sounds hoarse. You look away, gesturing vaguely to the plane as if that answered Price’s question at all. “Tired, I guess. Couldn't sleep. Soap was talking shit.”

Price’s brow pinches. “Soap was what?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and pad through the snow to catch up with him. “Gaz isn’t in trouble, is he?”

Price sighs and it fogs out into the cold. He shakes his head and fishes around his pockets before pulling out a cigar and a lighter. You watch as he presses it to his lips and lights it, the glow lighting up his face in the dark. The bags under his eyes are deeper than they usually are.

"No," he exhales. "Far from it."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Price chuckles.

"He only would've gotten in trouble if he did something stupid," he says. "What he did wasn't stupid, it was insubordinate. He had a plan and he executed it well…despite how he did it without permission."

"Does he usually do that?"

"Do what?"

"Things without permission."

"No," Price says again and exhales more smoke. "None of them do. Not unless the situation is dire."

A beat passes as you both walk and he smokes. It's silent aside from the rest of 141 talking and walking a little ways in front of you, haloed against the yellow streetlights of the base before you. Funny, it looks almost identical to the one in Texas—but bigger. Liminal. Colder, in more ways than one.

"I feel useless," you say, suddenly, and it's like now that you’ve started your mouth won’t stop running. "I don't have the codes and I can barely break into my own house never mind keep up with any of you guys. I can't do anything, and I hate it. If I'm going to stick around here…I want to be useful, somehow."

Price’s eyebrows raise slightly. In the five days you've spent living on base, Price thinks that might be the first time he's heard you complain—never mind say more than a few clipped sentences to him.

"You weren't supposed to get tangled up in this," Price insists. "So, it's our job to fix it. Not yours."

"I want to, though." You insist, “If I can’t help, I’m a liability.”

"No," Price shakes his head with finality. "No. You’re not, and you won't. Because then you'll end up like him, and that's the last thing any of us want."

You shoot Price a look; one that's somewhere between helpless, shocked, and frustrated. A million things to say cycle through your mind but you can't find the energy to pinpoint which you want to articulate first. So, you bite your tongue as he finishes his cigar and flicks it off in the snow somewhere. The ember dies immediately, and he sets a hand on your shoulder.

"C'mon," he says, softer now, as he picks up the pace. "Let's catch up with the others. Get you some sleep."

You're being brushed off. It stings, but it's a familiar kind of hurt this time. One you've grown up with and one you can manage. One that, pared with the soothing hand on your back and Price's confession that some people here do care what happens to you—is a nearly fatal blow that finally leaves you, for once, without a final word to put in.

A sigh leaves you as you find that you’re too tired to remain angry. Subconsciously, you lean into the hand on your back as you drag your feet towards the base. The rest of the walk is comfortingly silent, and snow falls silently around you as you watch the ice at your feet.

If you listened close enough, you could hear each individual snowflake hit the white ground, and for the first time in years you feel like you might've found something that feels slightly like home.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @karurururu @nostalgialeech

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

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flowersforjude · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | It’s just a job, nothing more. Until it isn’t.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3,008

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Canon typical violence, Injuries, Mutual pining, Joel is like the reader’s personal bodyguard.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Reluctantly protective Joel sure is something. Something I need in my be-

masterlist | read on ao3

This was supposed to be an easy one. Get you from place to place, unharmed and alive; get paid; and then that was that. Easy.

Except it was anything but.

Joel’s first impression of you was that you were meek and quiet. He was honestly pleased, thinking this made his job a lot easier. He thought you would follow his orders and just let him take the lead. Cut and dry, right?

How wrong he was.

He certainly wasn’t expecting your hidden fiery spirit. It only took a few days for your soft-spoken nature to disappear. He got used to your sharp tongue real quick, and while you knew when to really listen to him, he got used to your defiance as well.

Things started to go wrong as soon as you left the Q.Z. His original plan went to hell, and you were forced to take the long way around. Infected swarmed the short path, and the thought of making this trip even longer set Joel on edge. Bad luck already setting the precedent for the whole trip made him regret taking the damn job in the first place.

Before the trek even began, he put his walls up with you. He makes it clear he doesn’t do small talk, but that didn’t stop you from asking him a million questions. He answers some of them that he deems logical, but he shuts you down when you ask anything too personal. He doesn’t want you to know him. Doesn’t want to know you.

But then the inevitable happens.

You take a hammer to his walls and make the first crack. He’s unable to put his finger on the exact moment you began chipping away at his resolve.

Maybe it was the night under the stars when he actually allowed himself to hold a conversation with you. The first real one you guys had, nothing like your endless questions and his short, clipped answers. He learned that night that you had a real good sense of humor.

But then again, it just as well may have been the day you came upon a deer in the woods. He wanted to keep moving, but you were adamant about staying and watching the animal. Joel supposed he understood. He didn’t know how long it’d been since you’d left the Q.Z., so it’d been an eternity since you laid eyes upon anything other than a rat. The longing in your expression hit something in him. He didn’t know why. The world was the way it was. And it wasn’t changing, so why waste your time missing something you could never have again?

Though Joel ate his own words when he realized he wanted to give you what you yearned for. A scene of normalcy, something to ease the sting of your lost life. He couldn’t give you the life you had before the outbreak, but some part of him wanted to try his hardest to give you something close to it.

That’s why, even when you both had a close call with a few Clickers, he fought his hardest to get you out of there and to the place you were headed. His only hope was to deliver you to something close to normal.

The Clicker comes out of nowhere; it tackles Joel and slams him to the ground. He goes down with a crack and knows his back will be screaming later. The thing claws at him, ripping the shoulder of his shirt. He’s holding it back as best he can while trying to reach for his knife. Before he can grip the handle, though, a shot rings out.

Birds fly from the trees, the sound of their wings meeting his ears over the rushing of blood. He shoves the creature off him and pulls himself to his feet. The first thing he sees is you. You stand a few yards away with your gun still held up. Your arms seem to be trembling, and Joel is momentarily stunned. He knew you carried a gun, obviously, but he didn’t know you were such a good shot. He’d never seen you use it, always letting him take care of any threat.

He’s about to call to you, to say something like, ‘good shooting.” But before he can even open his mouth, another Clicker springs from the treeline. You go down with a shriek, but you're fighting to get free. Joel doesn’t think as he pulls out his gun and starts running. As soon as he’s close enough to guarantee a kill shot, he fires. A second shot rings out, and this time the only sound to be heard are your terrified gasps.

He’s next to you quicker than he realizes and pulls you up. Your eyes are frantic, zooming around until they land on his face. Relief floods them, and all of a sudden your hands are gripping at him. You take his jaw and turn his head back and forth, your eyes searching him for injuries.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice holds a slight panic. Your hands leave his jaw and trail down his neck, checking there for any bites too. “Did it get you? Are you hurt?” Your worry and the feeling of your hands still on him send tingles through his skin.

“I’m fine.” He assures you, trying to keep his voice from sounding too gruff. He peels your hands from him but doesn’t let go of them. He conducts his own search of you, checking for any bites or injuries from your fall. “Are you alright?”

“I think so.” You answer breathlessly.

He goes to retrieve his pack, which had fallen off in his struggle with the Clicker. You're hot on his heels, putting barely any space between your bodies. When he bends down to pick up the bag, his back screams at him. He winces as he straightens up, a hand going to his lower back.

You're worrying over him again in an instant. “What’s wrong?” You fret, putting your hand over his. He brushes you off and assures you once again that he’s fine. Your quick-witted attitude comes out in full force as you put on a stern expression. “Well, we should find a place to hunker down for the night. Something’s clearly wrong with your back.”

He can’t argue with that. It’s easy enough to find a suitable place, barricading yourselves in an old garage of some house. It’s a cold night, though, and even the closed-off garage doesn’t provide enough warmth to keep you from shivering. Joel contemplates moving outside just so he can build a fire, but the threat of more Clickers being in the area stops him. Being cold is better than being dead.

You're sitting on your bed roll, wrapped up in your blanket, blowing on your hands and rubbing them together. The slight tremble of your form doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Here,” he offers, motioning for you to slide over a little. He lays his own bed roll right next to yours and sits down. He brings his blanket up over him. “Come under here.” He held the edge of it up. You don’t have to be told twice as you press yourself to his side. With both blankets covering you, and your shared body heat, that should do for the night.

You fall asleep with your back facing him, your hands tucked under your chin. Joel finds himself staying awake, rationalizing it as keeping watch. He watches you as you breathe in and out. You hum every now and then, like you're talking in your dreams. Soon those peaceful hums turn into frightened gasps. He leans over you, watching your face. You don’t wake up, though your brows are furrowed and your lashes flutter, but your eyes don’t open.

After a moment, you roll over, facing him. Your hand shoots out, gripping the fabric of his shirt in your fist tightly. Joel doesn’t dare move as you shuffle closer to him, like you’re seeking him out in your dreams. Your face presses itself to his chest, your hand losing some of its tension but still keeping a hold on his shirt.

That’s when he hears it.

“Joel.”

Everything he thought he knew came crashing down with the barely there mumble of his name from your unconscious lips. It’s just his name, it shouldn’t startle him so much. But it came from you, whispered from the deepest recesses of your sleeping mind.

“Joel.”

There it is again. A murmured confession that you're looking for him. Searching for him in your rest for a reason Joel can’t decipher. It’s laced with yearning, so much so that he can’t stop himself from winding his arms around you.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He quietly answers when you call his name once more. His voice must have reached some deep part of your mind because you finally settled down fully. Sighing a little as you burrow yourself further into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything the next morning. Even though you woke with your head resting in the crook of his neck and his arm still caging you to him. He doesn’t say anything about your nighttime hunt for him. He can’t even imagine how that conversation would go. He pictures your flushed cheeks as you stammer your way around an explanation, and he almost changes his mind. But he decides it’s better this way.

This is just a job.

He doesn’t even believe himself at this point.

For the rest of the journey, it’s clear something has shifted. Some unknown knowledge hangs between you, but neither of you brings it up. Content with just letting it simmer until it eventually bubbles over and you're forced to deal with it.

You still glue yourself to him, never leaving more than a few inches between you both. If it had been anyone else, Joel would’ve already barked at them to back up. But it was you, and he found himself relishing in your closeness. He knew soon enough you would reach your destination and be forced to part ways. So, he was going to soak up as much of this as he could. He lets himself indulge in you and your endless sunlight.

On the last night of the trip, you and he sit across from each other with a fire between you. It was silent as you busied yourselves with eating decades-old canned fruit. The sound of the spoons clinking against the cans drove him crazy. He tried to think of something to say, something meaningful. After all, it is your last night together. But he can’t come up with a damn thing. He’s seriously about to comment on the weather just to fill the silence when you save him.

“What do you remember the most from before?”

This is breaking his rule of no small talk. He already knows that if he answers this, things are going to get personal. He answers anyway. “Football games on Sunday. Summer barbecues. My brother and I swimming in our grandfather’s lake.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” You're surprised, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t be. Joel hasn’t exactly been open with you about anything regarding himself.

He nods. “Yeah, a younger one. Tommy.”

You seem to peer closer at him over the fire. The orange glow of the flames enveloping your features. “Is he back in Boston?”

Another question that he wouldn't have answered before. “No, we haven’t talked in a while actually. I don’t know where he is.” He can see the sympathy taking over your face, so he directs the attention away from him. Not ready to open that door with you yet. “What about you? What do you remember the most?”

This brings a smile out of you. “My family going to this cabin by the lake every Fourth of July. Me and my grandma going apple picking.”

“I was never a big apple fan,” he remarks.

Your smile grows, and he thinks he’d keep talking all night if you smiled like that again. “Oh, I was. Especially apple pie, my grandma and I would make one every time we went picking.” The light in your face fades a little. You take on this faraway look as you gaze into the flames. Joel gives you time to speak again because he can tell something is on your mind. “Do you think the world will ever be somewhat the same again?”

That’s one question he absolutely knows the answer to. No. The world is the way it is now, and there’s no going back to what was before. Your only choice was to adapt. But the sorrowful expression on your face made him answer something completely different.

“I sure hope so.”

When you finally reach your destination the next day, you find out the person you were meeting was a no-show. You were still welcomed with open arms, though. The people even gave Joel somewhere to stay for the night. Offering him a room to rest his head and supplies for his trip back. He plans on leaving at first light, not wanting to chance seeing you in the morning. If he saw you, it would make things harder than they needed to be. He let himself enjoy your warmth for a while, but the job was done. It was time to get back on track, he told himself.

He’s stocking his bag when there’s a knock at the door. He’s not expecting to see you standing on the other side, but he’s not surprised. He steps back to allow you to come in, closing the door once you pass him.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He questions, kicking himself for the nickname. He hadn’t meant for it to slip out. Then again, he hadn't meant for this whole trip to go the way it did.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say quietly.

“What?” Joel demands.

“I don’t want you to go.” You repeat, your face is alight with that fire that surprised him so much.

He can’t help but laugh. He falls short when your face drops. “You know that’s not possible,” he sighed.

“Why not?” Your voice cracks. He wants to bring you to his chest and make your sadness go away. But he was the cause of your despair, so the sooner he was gone, the better. “Why can’t you stay and just be with me?” You look down at your hands, now knotted together in a nervous tangle.

“You don’t want me, sweetheart.” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not good for you.”

“Don’t you think I should be able to decide what’s good for me?” You roll your eyes, your face challenging him. His fierce, spirited girl. His girl. He shoves the thought away. You weren’t his, and you never would be.

“I’ve got too much—I’m too screwed up.” He crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know whether or not he does it to protect himself, but it’s something he does when in a confrontation.

You laugh outright at this. “We’ve all got baggage, Joel.”

Hearing you voice his name again takes him back to the night you called for him in your sleep. This was harder than he expected, harder than he wanted it to be. He didn’t want to cause you pain.

He’s about to disagree when you reach for him. Your fingers curl into the flannel he’s wearing, just like when you clutched his shirt that fateful night. He lets you bring him closer to you, letting your eyes bore into his without looking away. His hands take on a mind of their own and plant themselves on your waist.

“Stay, Joel.” You're so close he can feel your breath hit his lips. It makes his head spin. “Please.”

He can’t find his words; he can’t find it in himself to argue with you. He knows he’s no good for you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but everything screams at him to agree. To stay and keep you close to him for the rest of your lives.

“Y/N.” He whispers as a final stance against your magnetism.

“We don’t have to stay here. We can go wherever we want.” You offer, your nose brushing across his. Everything feels warm, and it's almost intoxicating in its intensity.

“Went through hell just to get here.” He points outs, trying to give you a small grin.

“I don’t care.” Your hands move up his face to hold his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. As if he wants to look anywhere else. “I’ll follow you anywhere, as long as we’re together.”

“Sweetheart-”

His protest is lost to your mouth. You kiss him with the same fire that burns inside you. Joel lets the flames consume him, and he thinks as long as you keep kissing him, he’d happily let himself burn in you forever. His hands tighten on your waist as he returns your kiss with equal fervor. He feels himself falling deeper and deeper, like he’s spiraling down the depths of something he’s blocked off for so long. When your arms throw themselves around his shoulders to pull him closer to you, clinging to him like he’s your lifeline, he’s positive that he’d follow you to the ends of the earth. He pulls his mouth from yours to trail his lips over your neck.

“Please don’t go,” you breathe as he presses a kiss to your pulse point. “Please, Joel.”

He nods against the column of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he sighs out. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

This was just meant to be a simple job, but it turned out to be something so much more than that. It was like an expedition to discover something you both had lost a long time ago. Peace. Companionship. Call it what you will, but he felt damn lucky to have found it again.

First Joel imagine! I honestly didn't mean for it to be over 3k, but here we are.

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #joel the last of us #the last of us imagine #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo

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